"That boy meant to kill me." Even though Rain had warned her of such a possibility, it hadn't seemed real until now.

Rain's lips thinned. "It appears so, shei'tani.”

A warrior approached. He gave a short, brisk bow and whispered something into Rain's ears. Rain's brows drew together in a sudden scowl. Whatever the news, it wasn't good.

"What is it?" Ellie asked.

"Something has happened, shei'tani, and I must go. Ravel and his cha'kor will see you safely home. Do not leave your home again today no matter what the reason.”

Irritation flashed. He was shunting her aside as if she were a child to be sent to her room while the grown-ups tended to important matters. "Tell me what's going on, Rain.”

For a moment, she thought he might not answer. And when he did, she almost wished he hadn't. "Bel has been taken into custody by the King's men. The boy who attacked you is dead. A dozen witnesses claim to have seen Bel murder him.”

Ellysetta swung her legs over the edge of the chaise and stood. "I'm coming with you"

"Nei, shei'tani. Your family is worried, and they need to see for themselves that you are unhurt. Ravel will take you to them while Marissya, Dax, and I deal with this." He raised her face to his and held her gaze steadily. "Go to your family, ajiana.”

"But Bel—”

"Trust me. I will not allow him to come to harm." Ellysetta searched his gaze and found resolve and reassurance. "I do trust you," she said.

His eyes glowed with sudden emotion. The hand beneath her chin slid round to cup her head and draw her closer. He bent his head and took her lips in a kiss that left her breathless.

"Beylah vo, shei'tani. Your words bring joy to this Fey's heart" He straightened and met Ravel's gaze, then the gaze of each member of her secondary quintet. "Guard her well, my brothers.”

"With our lives, Rain," Ravel replied.

Rain tracked Dorian down to his council chamber, where he was meeting in private session with the twenty Great Lords who between them governed more than half of Celieria.

News of the would-be assassin's death had traveled through the city faster than magic-fed flames, rousing an astonishing furor. Outside the palace, the Fey reported seeing flurries of inflammatory pamphlets and small mobs of citizens gathering to march on the palace and demand justice for the dead boy, and when one of Dorian's advisors broke the privacy seal on the council chamber as he stepped briefly outside to request a book of legal precedents, Rain overheard at least half a dozen voices within calling for an inquiry and trial—of Bel.

"My Lord Feyreisen!" the council attendant yelped as Rain brushed past. "You cannot go in there! The Council is in session!”

Rain didn't spare the man a glance. He threw open the doors to the council chamber and swept inside. Dax and Marissya followed close behind him. The great round marble chamber, its raised tiers filled with enough velvet-upholstered chairs to seat the two hundred lords of Celieria's noble houses, was mostly empty. Only the gold and silver thrones of the king and queen and the semicircle of twenty lesser thrones belonging to the heads of the Great Houses were currently occupied.

Dorian and his Great Lords regarded Rain with a mix of shock and affront as he strode towards them across the chamber's gleaming marble floor. Annoura narrowed her eyes.

"My Lord Feyreisen"—the king's chief advisor jumped to his feet from his chair behind the king's throne and rushed forward to block Rain's advance—"this is highly irregular. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave. This Council is in private session.”

Rain waved an arm, silencing the man and nudging him aside with a single, swift weave. "King Dorian, you are holding the chatokkai—the First General—of the Fading Lands. I have come to demand his release.”

"How dare you burst into this chamber and issue demands!" One of the lords in the blue-velvet-upholstered lesser thrones surged to his feet.

Rain did not recognize the man, but the coldness in his brown eyes and the arrogance etched into every line of his face were not strangers to him. The man's heavy, well- defined musculature, emphasized rather than hidden by the tailored cut of his expensive garments, bespoke a long familiarity with the arts of mortal warfare.

«Lord Sebourne,» Dax informed Rain. «A lord of the northern march. His family took over Wellsley's land three centuries ago after the Great Plague.»

"You do not rule here, Tairen Soul!" Lord Sebourne continued. "And this is not one of the remote villages in the northern provinces where Fey crimes go unwitnessed and unpunished!" He jabbed a finger in Rain's direction. "Your general murdered an unarmed Celierian citizen—a child, no less! He will be held accountable for his actions!”

Several of the Twenty nodded in agreement. "Fey crimes?" Rain drew himself up to his full height. "My truemate—my queen—" he emphasized, casting a hard glance Annoura's way, "was stabbed by that Celierian citizen you call an `unarmed child.' Be grateful I haven't burned this city to ash around your ears!”

Annoura sat up straight in her throne. "Are you threatening us, Feyreisen?”

"Annoura!" Dorian snapped. His queen glared but fell silent, and he turned back to Rain and Sebourne to say in a more conciliatory tone, "Gentlemen, please, hot tempers and threats are no way to solve anything." He rose from his throne and gestured for the Fey to approach. "My Lord Feyreisen, Lord Dax, Lady Marissya, a private word please?”