"Just standing here is almost like flying."

He stepped close behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Aiyah. You feel it too. As if you could leap from the ledge and the wind would welcome you and send you soaring."

"Yes, that's it." She opened her eyes and looked down at her feet. The toes of her boots touched the edge of the precipice, and yet she was unafraid. No hint of vertigo touched her. No sense of even the slightest fear. Only appreciation and thrill and longing.

"I miss this place," he murmured close to her ear. "I don't come back as often as I should. Mostly only when I need the simplicity of being tairen."

"Simplicity? The tairen don't seem simple to me." She thought of the mysteries of the mountain, and Sybharukai with her green eyes so full of secrets. Ellysetta had been here less than a day, but already she knew there was so much more to the tairen than she'd ever realized.

"Do they not? They eat when they are hungry, sleep when they are tired, and kill their enemy without doubt or regret when he threatens them. Do you know how calming that is?"

"To kill your enemy?"

"To have no regrets."

She turned in his arms and lifted her face to his. The shadows were back in his eyes, the memories of all those who had died in his flames. She stood up on the tips of her toes to kiss him, then bent her head to the hollow of his throat, and they stood there together, on the edge of the precipice, alone above the world as the cool winds of the high mountain swirled around them.

"I hesitate to ask what we'll be eating. I'm not particularly fond of raw herdbeast." She tilted her head at the grazing animals so far below.

His eyes crinkled, not quite a smile but close. "Nei, I would not think so. Though I must say, to a hungry tairen, tavalree on the hoof is a choice morsel."

With a casual weave of Earth, he spun a table and two chairs out from his chambers to the cliffs edge, then wove a small basket containing food, a corked vessel, and a pair of golden goblets. At her surprised look, he confessed, "I keep a small store of food stocked in one of the caves below with a protective weave to ensure freshness. I don't always want tavalree when I come here either."

The food was simple fare: a block of cheese, round loaves of flat, golden bread, and several of the tear-shaped tamaris fruits. Rain uncorked the bottle, poured a stream of crystal-clear water into the two goblets, and offered her one. A sip confirmed it was faerilas. "From Dharsa," he said in answer to her questioning look. He pushed a plate of food towards her. "Enough talking. Eat. Your body needs nourishment to replenish its strength."

Ellysetta reached for a round of bread, then layered slices of cheese on top. The first bite was heavenly. The cheese was creamy and flavorful, the bread a melting delight. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, but once the food hit her tongue, ravenous appetite took over. She devoured the meal in a few quick, voracious bites, and moments later found herself staring in bewilderment at empty hands sticky with tamaris juice. How had that happened?

Rain laughed softly. "Hunger comes upon you quickly when you weave magic for so many bells." At her confused frown, he elucidated. "Your singing. You were weaving love and courage on the kitlings through your song. Even Sybharukai was impressed. In many ways, your weave imitated tairen song."

"I didn't realize."

"You never do, it seems, when you are weaving great power." He helped himself to the remaining portion of the food and leaned back in his chair as he took a few bites. "I've been thinking about that since we left Celieria City. The circumstances of your birth forced you to use your magic more as instinct than a controllable skill, Ellysetta. While that served you well in its time, the practice appears to have conditioned you to trust your powers only when you do not know you are weaving them."

She sat up straighter, a bit offended. "I've been weaving magic. All those bells spent with Marissya on our journey here, when she was teaching me how to heal, I wove magic—powerful magic. What would you call that?"

"Frustration." When she crossed her arms and her eyes flashed, he hurried to add, "I am not dismissing your efforts, shei'tani, but you've been trying to pour the force of an ocean through the mouth of a stream. And when you cannot forget how vast and potentially dangerous that ocean is, your powers either dam up or overwhelm you.

"So you think I can't control my magic because I fear it?"

"I think, shei'tani, you have feared what you are for so long, there's no room in your heart for trust. And until you trust yourself, you will find it difficult—if not impossible— to control your magic…and impossible for us to complete our bond."

"So what's your solution?"

"The same as it is for a chadin of the Cha Baruk. Practice. And much of it. Some things cannot be learned by any other means. As you gain confidence, your fears will diminish."

"So who will teach me this confidence?"

"I've been thinking about that, too." He sat back, plucked a Fey'cha from the straps across his chest, and began twirling the blade on his fingertips, razor-sharp steel and black hilt flipping end over end, the pinch of his fingers so perfect the knife edge never broke his skin. "Until our bond is complete, I cannot merge with your mind the way a chatok must to guide your learning. The shei'dalins will teach you to wield a shei'dalins gifts, but you are a Tairen Soul as well. There are skills you need that no shei'dalin can teach you."