Jiarine Montevero bent towards Annoura's ear and whispered in a scornful sneer, "Do you think they even realize this is Prince Dorian's prenuptial ball and not the Tairen Soul's? Look at them lining up to play toady to a peasant.”

The fan in Annoura's hand snapped. "Lady Jiarine," she said in a toneless voice. "My fan seems to have broken. Please, fetch me another.”

"Of course, Your Majesty.” Jiarine took the destroyed fan and headed for the queen's apartments, a satisfied smile curling her lips.

Midway through the evening, the silver-coated servant at the top of the stairs announced a late-arriving couple. "Lord and Lady Collum diSebourne.”

A broad smile warmed Lord Barrial's face. "Please excuse me, My Lord Feyreisen, Lady Ellysetta, my lords and ladies." Barrial executed a swift bow. "My daughter and her new husband have finally arrived.”

Ellysetta watched him stride towards the grand stairs where a young woman was descending on the arm of a handsome, haughty-looking Celierian lordling. Lord Barrial's daughter had her father's chestnut hair, caught up in a profusion of thick, lustrous ringlets that spilled down the back of her deep rose gown. Her heart-shaped face seemed made for the dazzling smile that broke across it when she caught sight of her father. She rushed down the last few stairs and fell into Lord Barrial's arms for a laughing embrace, and Ellysetta felt her own heart swell with empathetic joy.

Beside her, Rain stiffened. "What is he doing?”

She followed his gaze and found Adrial standing near the edge of the ballroom. Adrial's brother Rowan came bursting through the terrace doors and started shoving his way through the crowd towards him.

«Bel,» Rain snapped, his Spirit voice harsh as a whip.

Before Bel could move, Adrial gave a raw, choked cry, and Ellysetta's feelings became a tumult of emotions so intense that tears flooded her eyes. "Adrial?" she took half a step towards him, just as Rain jerked to attention and Rowan cried out, "Nei, Adrial!”

Before anyone could stop him, Adrial crossed the room in a blur of speed to stand before Lord Barrial's daughter. When his shadow fell over her, the young woman went totally still. The smile faded from her face and she slipped free of her father's embrace.

"Talisa?" Lord Barrial frowned at his daughter in open confusion, but she was not looking at him. Her gaze was locked on the Fey-pale, Fey-beautiful face of Adrial vel Arquinas.

She stared at Adrial, her eyes wide and dazed. "I know you," she said. "I've dreamed of you since before I can remember. I dreamed of you only days ago.”

"Talisa?" The young lord who was her husband moved closer. "Who is this man? How do you know him?" His voice was heavy with suspicion.

His wife didn't appear to hear him. "I waited for you," she told Adrial softly, "but you never came.”

"I am here now, beloved.” In a voice husky with emotion, Adrial declared, "Ver reisa ku'chae. Kem sera, shei’tani." He held out his hands, palms up.

Slowly, Talisa Barrial diSebourne reached out.

"By the gods, you will not!" Lord diSebourne snarled and grasped his wife's arm to yank her away from Adrial.

In a flash, Adrial lunged for him, lethal red Fey'cha clutched in each hand, murder on his face.

"Rain!" Ellie cried. "Stop him!”

Before the first syllable left her lips, bright shields sprang up around Adrial and around Lord Barrial, his daughter, and her husband. Ellie found her vision tinted as shields formed around her, too. With a push of Air, Rain thrust her protectively behind him even as the remaining warriors of her quintet closed tight around her.

In the same instant, dozens of Fey warriors appeared as if by magic, black-leather-clad shapes leaping from the balconies above, from the corners of the room, from the very woodwork itself, it seemed to Ellie. One moment the room was a sea of glittering pastel courtiers, the next, it was a dark abyss of black leather, grim faces, and naked steel.

CHAPTER TWELVE

King Dorian jumped to his feet as his personal guard swarmed around him and Queen Annoura, weapons at the ready. Beside them, Prince Dorian clutched his affianced bride.

Adrial lunged against the shield surrounding him, sparks of white and red flashing around him. "Release me! You have no right to keep a Fey from his shei’tani!”

Talisa was weeping, her hands reaching out to Adrial even as her father tried to pull her away. Her husband, enclosed in his own protective bubble, had drawn his sidearm, and violence glittered in his eyes. "And you have no right to touch another man's wife!”

"Peace.” Marissya's voice was pitched low and tranquil.

"Don't you dare try your witch's tricks on me, Fey petchka," Lord diSebourne hissed. He called across the tomb-silent ballroom, "Is this what Celierian have become, sire? The lackeys of Fey magicians? My father told me what's been going on here in the city with these Fey. They murder our villagers-even our children!-and you do nothing. They steal a man's betrothed and you allow it. Will you also stand by while they steal a man's wife?”

King Dorian's face turned pale, then grew dark with wrath.

"You are overset, Lord diSebourne," he replied tightly. "Though your anger is understandable, you will marshal your tongue when speaking to your king.”

"Sire, my family has lived and died protecting the borders for the last few hundred years. I am your loyal subject, but you either uphold a man's right to his wife or you do not. I will have your answer.”