King of Sword and Sky
Page 37

 C.L. Wilson

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Eld ~ Bourn Fell
«Shan!» Elfeya gasped her truemate's name.
He was slow to answer, his mental voice thready and weak. The High Mage had not let her go to him yet. «I feel it, beloved.»
The High Mage's darkest magic had forged a connection between Shan and Ellysetta, and through her shei'tanitsa bond with Shan, Elfeya shared the connection too. They had used it over the years, doing what they could to help reinforce the barriers they'd placed around their daughter's magic, sending subtle thoughts and weaves that urged her to keep hidden from the High Mage.
Now that power flared anew, and both of them felt a draining tug, as if some portion of their own magic, so long locked away from useful summoning, were being siphoned off.
Just as suddenly the draw stopped and their power surged back to them in a wave. With it, like a subtle fragrance wafting through an open window, came the scent of a dear and familiar magic. One Elfeya recognized and had never thought to sense again.
A name breathed from her lungs on a sigh, sorrowful and wondrous all at once. "Tajik."
The Fading Lands ~ Chakai
"Tairen's scorching fire," Tajik breathed. When Ellysetta released him, he was trembling from head to toe. "Blessed gods. I knew it must be true—the dahl'reisen is proof—but still I did not truly believe." He lifted shaking hands, staring at the palms as if searching for some now-absent mark of shame. "The shadows on my soul are gone. My heart weeps again." Tears shimmered in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He did not even bother to brush them aside. "How is this possible?"
"I told you," Bel said, "there is no other like her in all the world."
Rain gave a warning growl. Bel and Gaelen both snatched their hands away from Ellysetta, and he drew her firmly back against him. «You need a good shaking,» he snapped on their private thread.
«Because I can't sit here like the rest of you and do nothing while these brave Fey suffer?» She twisted around to glare up at him, her jaw set and thrust out in the mulish lines he'd come to know and dread. «I tried to stay away, as you asked me to, but I couldn't. I'm just not made that way, Rain. Their pain beat at me until I couldn't stand it any longer.» Her expression softened and her hands rose to cradle his face. She stood up on her toes to press her lips to his. «Forgive me?»
He should have stepped away, lest she think him so easy to control, but he could not deny himself the pleasure of her kiss. When their lips met, his arms locked tight around her, dragging her close against him. He filled his lungs with the sweet intoxication of her fragrance, and his mouth with the equal enchantment of her kiss.
Who was he deluding? She could control him. One crook of a slender finger or a flutter of those dark red lashes, and he became clay in her hands. He could attempt to stand firm, to protect her even from her own self, but in the end there was nothing he would deny her if she wanted it badly enough. And both of them knew it.
When she released him, his eyes were glowing again, but this time not with anger. «Bas'ka. You've done your good deed, Feyreisa; now come back to bed with your mate, where you belong.» He purred the words, accompanying them with the vibrant sparks of near-visible sound that were tairen song, and watched with satisfaction as her eyelids fluttered closed. He might not be able to control her, but she was no more immune to him than he to her, thank the gods. «Come with me,» he urged again, filling his tones with seduction and sweet promise.
She began to sway towards him until Tajik coughed and broke the spell. Rain could have leapt upon the Fey and rent him in two for the interruption.
Ellysetta's eyes opened. The haze of desire clouding her gaze changed swiftly to a blush of self-consciousness when she realized Bel, Gaelen, and Tajik were still there, watching. The self-consciousness became a narrow-eyed look of suspicion that settled on Rain, who had never been any good at looking innocent. Too much tairen in him for that.
"Come," he said again. "It's late and we have a long way to travel tomorrow. You should get what sleep you can."
"But, Rain, I'm not done yet. I still need to do what I can for the other rasa."
His spine went stiff. "Nei. Absolutely not."
"But—"
"Nei!" He clutched her shoulders in a tight grip and gave her a little shake. "Do you think I did not feel what just happened to you? Do you think I will let you go through that again?"
«It hurts me more to do nothing.»
«And when I kill a Fey because his hand upon you drives me mad, what will you feel then?»
«I have more faith in you than that.»
«Perhaps you should not.»
"Rain, please. If I can help even a little, I must at least try." «And you must allow it.»
He glared at her. "Do you think you are the only woman of the Fey ever to feel this need? A warrior's lot is to suffer. A shei'dalin's is to bear it. And as your shei'tan, my duty is to help you bear it and to stop you from doing anything foolish"—he turned his glare upon Gaelen and Bel—"which should also be your lu'tans duty, though plainly they have both forgotten it."
The pair had the grace to look shamefaced.
"Rain, no other shei'dalin can take away the pain like I do." She turned to Tajik. "Tajik—do you still suffer?"
"Nei." His voice was hoarse, his eyes filled with wonder. "My soul is bright as a child's."