"It's not silliness!" Lorelle protested indignantly. "I heard it straight from Tomy Sorris." Tomy Sorris, son of the printer, was the local town crier and usually well on top of the latest news and gossip.

Ellie was unimpressed. "Then Tomy's been smelling too much printer's ink." She transferred the dough back into its rising bowl and covered it with a damp cloth.

"He has not!" A stamp of one small foot expressed the child's outrage.

"Well, perhaps he's just misinformed then," Ellie replied. If Rain Tairen Soul were coming, they'd have heard about it long before now. The Fey who'd once nearly destroyed the world in a rage of tairen flame wouldn't simply end his thousand-year exile without someone knowing about it in advance.

With a few quick swipes of a clean cloth, she swept the light dusting of flour off the tabletop into her palm and disposed of it in the waste bin beneath the kitchen sink. She cranked the sink pump twice and rinsed her floury fingers beneath the resulting cold spurt of water, then cast a glance back over her shoulder at Lorelle.

"Besides, why would the Feyreisen come here? He never had much use for mortals even before the Wars.”

She recalled a story in yesterday's paper about a small caravan of travelers attacked near the Borders by dahl'reisen, the frightening mercenaries who'd once been Fey warriors before being banished from the Fading Lands for the darkness in their souls. Would Rain Tairen Soul come to Celieria because of that?

She dismissed the idea instantly. All her life she'd heard tales of dahl'reisen raids—such tales were so common they were used to frighten small children into behaving—but none of those stories had ever lured the King of the Fey beyond the Faering Mists that circled the Fading Lands. No, Lorelle must be wrong.

Ellie untied her apron and hung it on a wooden peg in the corner of the modest, cozy Baristani family kitchen and smoothed slender hands over her serviceable tan muslin skirts. Her shirtsleeves were bunched up around her elbows, and she tugged the plain cuffs back down to her wrists, unable to stifle a wistful sigh as she imagined a fall of ivory lace draped over her hands. It was, of course, a foolish daydream. Lace would only get dirty and torn as she went about her chores.

She smiled at Lorelle, whose pout had now become an outright scowl. "Come now, kitling, don't be cross. I'll take you to the park instead. It won't take up the whole day, it's bound to be less crowded, and we can still have a fine time.”

Lorelle crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to go to the park. I want to see the Feyreisen.”

Before Ellie could reply, Lorelle's twin, Lillis, came skipping into the kitchen, all atwitter. A mirror image of her sister, Lillis would have been indistinguishable from Lorelle except for the radiant excitement stamped on her face, which contrasted vividly with Lorelle's dark scowl. "Ellie! Ellie! Guess what!”

Ellie made a show of widening her eyes with exaggerated interest. "What?”

"The Feyreisen is coming, and Mama says you can take us to see him enter the city tomorrow!”

"Ha!" Lorelle exclaimed. "I told you so!”

This time the breath that caught in Ellie's throat stayed there. Tomy Sorris might have sniffed too much printer's ink, but Mama was never wrong. Seeking confirmation, Ellie glanced towards the door.

"Mama? Is it true? Is the Feyreisen really coming to Celieria?”

Lauriana Baristani nodded, her fingers deftly untying the bow of her large-brimmed sun hat as she crossed the threshold and entered the kitchen. There was a light of excitement in her eyes that Ellie had never seen before. "It's true," she confirmed.

Ellie watched in astonishment as her mother tossed her hat and woven shawl over the back of a nearby chair rather than hanging them neatly on the wooden pegs provided for that purpose. Her mother was a firm believer in a place for everything and everything in its place. Something was going on, something that had nothing to do with the unexpected ambassadorial visit from a twelve-hundred-year-old Fey who could turn himself into a tairen.

"Mama?" She picked up the hat and shawl and hung them It in their place. "What is it?" She gave her mother a searching look. Lauriana was a handsome woman in her mid fifties, with a solid build and strong arms that could help her husband move heavy pieces of handcrafted furniture or hug her children close. She had the same rich brown hair as the twins, though her soft ringlets were threaded liberally with silver, and her eyes were a pleasant hazel. Her brown dress was neatly made of sturdy, sensible cloth, and her shoes were sturdy, sensible brown leather to match. But at the moment, she did not look sensible at all. She looked … giddy.

"Oh, Ellie, you won't believe it!" Lauriana reached out to grasp Ellie's hands. "Queen Annoura," she said, squeezing El- lie's fingers tight, "sent Lady Zillina to commission your father to produce a special carving in the Feyreisen's honor. He's to have it finished and ready to present to the Feyreisen at the Prince's betrothal ball!" When Ellie gasped again and the twins squealed, Lauriana beamed and nodded. "Commissioned by the queen. At last!”

"Oh, Mama," Ellie breathed. "Papa must be singing with pride!" After ten years as a master woodcarver, Sol Baristani had finally received a coveted royal commission. When word got out, nobles and rich merchants would be banging down his door to commission his work. Money, always rather scarce in the Baristani household, was sure to flow into the family coffers.