“Nei. Getting you to safety comes first. Sheyl understands that.”

“But the children! Cerlissa and Bannon!” Rain caught her when she lunged towards the dahl’reisen leader.

“And if the Eld are somehow tracking you, going back would lead them straight to the women and children. Right now, the Eld forces are split. It’s best for all of us if they stay that way.” Softening his voice, Farel added, “Besides, Sheyl has already begun the evacuation of the village, and I’ve summoned reinforcements to guard their retreat. They will be as safe as I can make them.”

“But—“

Rain squeezed her shoulders. “Farel’s right, Ellysetta.”

«Shei’tani, their women and children are the only Lights left in these warriors’ lives. If dahl’reisen still retain any part of their Fey hearts—and gods save them, I’m beginning to believe these do—staying with us, trying to get you to safety, when their women and children are in danger must be almost more torment than they can bear. Do not berate them for it.» He met the dahl’reisen’s gaze. “Can we make it out of the Verlaine before the Eld can cut us off?”

“We need to change course. Head due west… maybe southwest… force them to come around the northwest corner. That will buy us a few bells.”

“A few bells are better than none. Lead the way.”

Farel started to turn, then hesitated. “Sheyl told me you offered our women and children sanctuary in the Fading Lands. Was that at her urging?”

“Aiyah,” Rain admitted softly. “She showed us your nursery this morning… and the child Murialisa. How could I refuse her?”

“That’s why she showed you.” Farel’s shoulders sagged. “She saw this attack coming. She kept it from me because she wanted to be sure I was away.” He took a deep breath, and when he looked up again, his features had once more settled into a stony expression devoid of all emotion. “What she sees comes true—always—so I am where I’m supposed to be, as is she. Let’s get you to Gaelen—and we need to pick up the pace.”

Farel spun a command to the lines of dahl’reisen bringing up the rear. «Brothers, circle the Feyreisa! Ring of Protection!»

The dahl’reisen burst into action, parting into two columns to circle around Ellysetta, careful to keep their distance. They ran as graceful as pronghorns, leaping fallen trees and dodging low-hung branches with astonishing speed. Rain and Ellysetta were clumsy tanglefoots by comparison and had clearly been slowing them down.

Farel glanced back over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for, Tairen Soul? Let’s run.”

The last of the villagers hurried out through the thicket tunnel, beneath the watchful eyes of the remaining dahl’reisen, while Sheyl ran door to door, checking every room, nook, and stair in the dahl’reisen village to make sure no one had been forgotten.

Urgency beat at her, accompanied by the sensation of a heavy weight pressing down upon her. It was like that sometimes with her second gift. Not a clear vision, but simply a driving need that hounded her until she heeded its call. Now was such a time.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was still here. Someone had not left with the others.

«Sheyl, we must go.»

«A few more chimes. I’m almost done.» She raced across a vine bridge leading to the last cluster of tree homes in the village, the ones that hugged the farthest perimeter of the compound. These were the houses the sensitives occupied… the homes of Murialisa’s parents and other couples like them.

The pounding in her veins grew stronger, the weight pressing on her chest heavier so that her breath came in shallow gasps. She opened the door of Muri’s house and ran room to room. The bedrooms were filled with signs of frantic packing: clothes strewn in haphazard piles across the bed, drawers and wardrobes open, their contents in disarray. But there were no people, nothing that couldn’t be lost to the Eld. The true treasures of the house, Muri and her parents, were gone.

Sheyl ran out the back door and checked three more homes on the same level of the cluster before bounding down the hanging stair, making the treads rock wildly. She leapt to the platform beneath and opened the first door she came to. That house was empty, as were the second and third after that.

The fourth house, however…

She burst through the front door, shouting, “Is anyone here?” Before the echoes of her call died out, she heard the choked cry, and then she knew.

She headed straight for the bedroom and flung open the door. Carina, whose man had been among those who had not returned last night from rescuing the Feyreisa, lay in a muddled pile of sheets that were soaked with sweat, maternal waters, and blood. Her jaw was clenched, her hands gripped around the tight, rippling mound of her unborn child. The child was coming… and it was early by three months.

Sheyl drew a deep breath and let it out. The urgency and the crushing weight of fate fell away, replaced with imperturbable calm and a detached, faintly melancholy sense of acceptance.

So this was how her death was to be written.

More warriors were on the way. From every corner of the Verlaine, all blades not manning a scout post were racing to hold off the Eld invaders and buy time for the villagers to escape. But they would not come in time to save Sheyl.

She crossed the room to the bedside and took the frightened, laboring woman’s hand in hers. “Carina.” With a smile, she caressed the woman’s flushed brow. “Don’t worry, dearling. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”