"What are you thinking?" Rain was watching her with an intent expression.

"That I'm an awful lot like Ashleanne the hearth-minder," she replied with a self-deprecating smile. "And you're the Fey giftfather and the handsome prince all rolled into one.”

"Then perhaps that is to your advantage. The weave doesn't have to unravel at midnight if you don't wish it.”

"I'm not so sure I don't want it to unravel right now. I'm feeling cowardly.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. "You are not the first to dread a royal dinner. Even without my dislike of the nobles and the memories of what happened here before, I admit I have never enjoyed these affairs. Especially in Celieria. Your people use far too many forks.”

She laughed, grateful to him for trying to put her at ease even when he himself was not.

The carriage pulled to a stop before the blue-carpeted stairs. Protective shields sprang up around them as they descended from the carriage and remained in place as they climbed the palace steps, not disappearing until they passed through the palace doors.

A servant appeared before them. His livery, the same rich Celierian blue as all the other servants wore, was much more elaborately decorated with gold braid. His hair was gold- powdered and tied at his nape with a Celierian blue bow. He bowed deeply to Rain. "Your Majesty." He hesitated briefly, then bowed again just as deeply to Ellie. "My Lady. If you will both follow me, please? I will escort you to the ballroom, where the guests are gathering before dinner.”

The corridors were brilliant with light and peopled with servants and courtiers dressed in dazzling displays of gilded cloth, sparkling jewels, and piles of glittering powdered hair. The extreme radiance of wealth was stunning to a girl so used to sensible moderation, and Ellie found herself holding her breath and trying desperately not to look like a goggle- eyed fool while still attempting to drink in every sight, every sound.

When they entered the upper level of the already crowded ballroom and stood at the top of the curving staircase awaiting their introduction, Ellie became instantly and self- consciously aware of how her deep purple and Rain's black

leathers stood out like dark beacons in a sea of gilded pastels. As they stepped onto the landing, every eye in the room below focused on them.

She shrank back against Rain.

Peace, Ellysetta. There is nothing to fear.»

She tried to stiffen her spine, tried even harder not to let her fear show on her face. Her free hand fell to the Fey'cha at her waist, fingers closing around the black handle with desperate need, but Bel's dagger did not offer her the comfort it usually did. Perhaps because she knew that if she made a fool of herself tonight, it would reflect badly on Rain and the Fey.

The servant who had led them to the ballroom whispered their names to another servant, this one dressed in pure silver. The silver-clad man announced in ringing tones, "His esteemed majesty, Rainier vel'En Daris Feyreisen, the Tairen Soul, King of the Fading Lands, Defender of the Fey, and Lady Ellysetta Baristani Feyreisa, truemate of the Tairen Soul, Queen of the Fading Lands.”

Ellie had an hysterical urge to laugh at the titles attached to her name. Oh, gods, this was all a mistake. Who did Rain think he was fooling? She was plain Ellie Baristani, woodcarver's daughter, not a queen. And judging by the haughty, sneering looks on the faces of the nobles below, every one of them was thinking the same thing. How could Rain hope to win their respect and convince them to stand firm against the Eld when he confronted them with a peasant on his arm? Even the servants of the aristocracy looked down their noses at her when they visited her father's shop at their masters' bidding.

Bel and Kieran preceded them down the stairs. Kiel, Adrial, and Rowan followed them. Ellie's knees trembled as she and Rain descended the stairs into the ballroom. She was aware of King Dorian and Queen Annoura sitting in gold and silver radiance on their thrones at the far end of the room, watching her with unblinking eyes. She looked out over the sea of faces and sensed the courtiers' swelling outrage and stiffening pride. They resented having a peasant's daughter shoved down their noble, aristocratic throats. She was beneath them. She didn't belong here. She sensed anger, rapidly escalating, and thought it came from the nobles.

When they reached the bottom stair, Bel turned his head to give her a warning look. Peace, Ellysetta. Your emotions wake the tairen.

Her gaze flew to Rain's unsmiling, stone-carved face. His eyes were on fire with power. His mouth was grim. The anger she felt was his, and he was struggling hard to contain it.

"Rain," she whispered. "I'm sorry.”

«Apologize for nothing. Not to me, and especially not to these dark-souled mortals. You are the Feyreisa.»

She winced at the harsh bite in his Spirit voice.

"My Lord Feyreisen." A glittering man in a blue-and-silver coat dripping lace and jewels stepped forth from the throng. His hair was silver-powdered, his blue eyes cool above a pleasant smile. Though Ellie had never met the man, his face was famous throughout Celieria. Lord Corrias, Celieria's prime minister, bowed very deeply to Rain.

"Mistress Baristani." Lord Corrias bowed to her as well, more deeply than a woodcarver's daughter had a right to expect, but less than a quarter the depth of the bow he had given the Tairen Soul. Not that it mattered to Ellie. She was too busy struggling with the nervous fear that clogged her throat to care about the implications of a bow.

It mattered to Rain.

"She is the Feyreisa." Rain's voice was an iced shard of sound, the barest whisper, and yet it sliced across the rising murmurs of the onlooking crowd with chilling ease. "You insult her at your gravest peril.”