There had been something in the Eye's radiant depths—an image of what looked like a woman's face—but all he could make out were fading sparkles of lush green surrounded by orange flame. A fine mist formed in the center of the Eye, then slowly cleared as another vision formed. This image he saw clearly as it came into focus, and he recognized it instantly. It was a city he knew well, a city he despised. The second image faded and the Eye dimmed, but it was enough. Rain Tairen Soul had his answer. He knew his path.

With a groan, he rose slowly to his feet. His knees trembled, and he staggered back against the throne to collapse on the cushioned seat.

Rain gazed at the Eye of Truth with newfound respect. He was the Tairen Soul, the most powerful Fey alive, and yet the Eye had reduced him to a weeping infant in mere moments. If it had not decided to release him, it could have used him to destroy the world. Instead, after beating the arrogance out of him, it had given up at least one of the secrets it was hiding.

He reached out to the Eye with a lightly woven stream of Air, Fire, and Water and whisked away the faint smudges left behind by the fingers he had dared to place upon it.

«Sieks'ta. Thank you.» He filled his mental tone with genuine respect and was rewarded by the instant muting of his body's pain. With a bow to the Eye of Truth, he strode towards the massive carved wooden doors at the end of the Hall of Tairen and tore down his weaves.

«Marissya.» He sent the mental call to the Fey's strongest living shei'dalin even as he reached out with Air to swing open the Hall's heavy doors before him. The Fey warriors guarding the door to the Hall of Tairen nodded in response to the orders he issued with swift, flashing motions of his hands as he strode by, and the flurry of movement behind him assured him his orders were being carried out.

«Rain?» Marissya's mental voice was as soothing as her physical one, her curiosity mild and patient.

«A change of plans. I'm for Celieria in the morning and I'm doubling your guard. Let your kindred know the Feyreisen is coming with you.»

Even across the city, he could feel her shocked surprise, and it almost made him smile.

Half a continent away, in the mortal city of Celieria, Ellysetta Baristani huddled in the corner of her tiny bedroom, tears running freely down her face, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The nightmare' had been so real, the agony so intense. Dozens of angry, stinging welts scored her skin … self- inflicted claw marks that might have been worse had her fingernails been longer. But worse than the pain of the nightmare had been the helpless rage and the soul-shredding sense of loss, the raw animal fury of a mortally wounded heart. Her own soul had cried out in empathetic sorrow, feeling the tortured emotions as if they had been her own.

And then she'd sensed something else. Something dark and eager and evil. A crouching malevolent presence that had ripped her out of sleep, bringing her bolt upright in her bed, a smothered cry of familiar terror on her lips.

She covered her eyes with shaking hands. Please, gods, not again.

CHAPTER ONE

"Ellie, don't be such a soggy dorn" Nine-year-old Lorelle Baristani pouted at her older sister.

It was, in Ellysetta's opinion, an adorable pout. Lorelle's out-thrust lower lip was plump and pink, her round cheeks soft as satin, and her big brown eyes heart-tuggingly soulful. The whole enchanting picture was complemented by masses of mink-brown ringlets, and more than one seasoned adult had been known to abandon common sense in the face of such considerable infant artillery. Unfortunately for Lorelle, Ellie was made of sterner stuff.

Ellie smiled and bent to kiss her sister's cheek. "A soggy don't, am I? Just because I don't want to spend the whole day caught up in what's sure to be the worst crush in the past year? And for what? To catch a brief glimpse of a Fey warrior as he walks past?" Ellie shook her head and punched down the bread dough she was making for tonight's dinner rolls.

Tomorrow was the much-anticipated annual visit of the shei'dalin Marissya v'En Solande. Her arrival was always a spectacle as she and her guard of one hundred fierce leather-and-steel-bedecked Fey warriors entered the city and marched down the main thoroughfare to the palace.

A week ago, Ellysetta would have gone, no matter how long the wait, just for the chance of glimpsing the glint off a Fey blade. But that was before that disturbing nightmare and before the dark dreams that had continued to haunt her ever since. When she woke each morning, her skin felt tight, her muscles inexplicably sore and weary, as if each night she fought a battle in her sleep. As if she were fighting to keep something out … or worse, to keep something in.

Memories flashed—of horrifying convulsions racking her body, Mama's fear, the Church of Light exorcists with their fervent, shining eyes and merciless determination to drive the demons from her soul.

She shuddered from the awful memories and quickly sketched the sign of the Lord of Light. No, all things considered, now was a bad time for her to go anywhere near the Fey and their powerful magic.

"Besides, I'm busy tomorrow," she told Lorelle, grateful for the genuine excuse. "Lady Zillina ordered an entire new suite for her receiving room, and Mama wants me to get started on the embroidery for the pillows.”

"But, Ellie, the Feyreisen is coming!”

Ellie's breath caught in her throat. The Feyreisen? Despite her well-founded fear of magic, she'd dreamed all her life of seeing Rain Tairen Soul in the flesh.

Then common sense returned, and Ellie cast a stern sidelong glance at her sister. "Who told you that bit of silliness? Everyone knows the Feyreisen hasn't set foot outside the Fading Lands in a thousand years." Not since the end of the horrendous magical holocaust known as the Mage Wars.