Lord of the Fading Lands
Page 42

"Thank you, my lord." Ellysetta touched the back of his bare hand with her fingertips.
Rain drew in his breath at the sudden rush of feelings that sprang from the simple feel of her skin meeting his. The strength of his connection to this young Celierian went so far beyond what he had felt for Sariel, he could hardly fathom it. She was so young, so incredibly new to the world and to him, and yet regardless of the cost to his soul, Rain would destroy anyone and anything that dared to stand between them. And if any dared to harm her, he would shred them without mercy and dance as he drank their blood.
Ellysetta misunderstood the fierce look on his face, because she snatched her hand back and apologized for touching him.
"Nei, do not apologize." Rain could barely restrain himself from reaching for that hand and putting it back on his skin. His fingers itched to do so, and he clenched them into fists. He craved her touch, ached for it as only a Fey warrior could. But admitting to his need was the same as admitting a weakness, something a Fey rarely did willingly. "I was merely surprised. You may touch me if you like." But she didn't lay that sweet hand upon him again. He cursed his own unguarded reaction that had cost him such a small but much-desired pleasure and wondered how he might contrive to get it back. He bent his head to her, his gaze intent as he willed her to touch him again. To his disgruntlement, she did not.
Laughter sounded in his mind. Laughter he recognized but had not heard in any form for centuries.
«Bel?» He turned to his old friend in disbelief. Though to most, the solitary Fey would still appear blank as a wall, Rain knew better. Bel's dark eyes glinted with amusement, and the grim stoicism of his face was less pronounced. There was even the faintest crinkling at the corners of his eyes—humor struggling to find expression.
«if you could see yourself, Rain. Pouting like a tzicaida whose lunch just got away.» The corner of Bel's mouth actually twitched. You could always just command her to put her hand back on you.”
Despite his amazement over Bel's incredible rediscovery of levity, Rain scowled. To issue such a command would be to admit he could not win his desire any other way. It would be the same as admitting defeat, another thing no Fey warrior would ever willingly do. Nei, he was tairen enough to be crafty, to lure his shei'tani into giving willingly that which he desired, without revealing to her how badly he desired it. You babble like a child, Fey.”
«Aiyah, but then the babblings of a child so often hold truth, My King.»
«What has happened to my fierce friend Bel?”«Your shei'tani, thank the gods. »
Rain's scowl was immediate, the hand reaching for a Fey'cha instinctive, though before Rain could pull the blade free, Bel's quick denial sounded in his mind.
«Nei, nei. Nothing like that! By the Flame, Rain, no Fey would dare.» In an odd tone, torn between shock and something that almost sounded like hurt, Bel added, «Red, Rain? You would pull red against me?”
Rain's gaze darted to the scarlet Fey'cha handle his fingers still clutched. With an oath, he snatched his hand away. «For-give me, Bel.» All Fey steel was tempered in Fire and imbued with magic as a result, but red Fey'cha daggers were doused in tairen venom as they were forged, making them deadly poison, even to Fey. Fey did not pull red against other Fey. To actually attack another Fey with red was a banishing offense. «These ... feelings ... drive me mad. I cannot think.”
«Peace, Rain. This is a difficult time for any Fey, you more so than others.”
Rain nodded curtly and lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair, only to stop when he realized what he was doing. To continue showing his distraction was yet another sign of discipline unraveling. He forced his hands down and extended an arm to his shei'tani. "Come. We are through here. I will escort you and your family home.”
When Ellysetta would have linked her arm through his in the Celierian fashion, he stopped her. "Nei. In time of need, I would lose time untangling my arm from yours." He took her hand, straightened her fingers, and laid them on his wrist, bathing in the pleasure of her touch and ignoring the sound of Bel's laughter in his mind the whole while. "This is the Fey way. My hands and arm are free should I need to call steel or magic to your defense" In a flash, he had an unsheathed black Fey'cha in his hand. "You see?”
She eyed the naked blade with obvious worry. "You think there will be trouble here? In the palace?”
His lips thinned. "Trouble has begun here before." He regretted the fear that sprang to her eyes, but he could not lie to her. Outside the Fading Lands, danger was never far from the Fey. She must learn that and be wary enough to watch for it. Still, she was his truemate, and it was his duty to keep her from harm and worry. "Will there be trouble today, shei'tani? I doubt it. But we must always be on guard." He sheathed the blade and extended his arm to her again. "Come. Let us walk. I will send the Fey to bring your sisters to us.”
Before taking his arm, she adjusted a golden chain at her waist and curled the fingers of her left hand around the black hilt of a blade sheathed at her hip. Only then did she place the fingers of her right hand on his wrist in the manner he had taught her. If there were to be danger, she and her Fey'cha would be ready for it. Even as the gesture took him aback—no Fey woman would ever lift a blade against a living creature— gentle amusement and pride mingled inside him. His Celierian shei'tani might be foreign and far too young, but her spirit was fierce. She would not cringe from the possibility of trouble; she would meet it with steel.