"She was never in any harm," Gaelen muttered. With a grimace, he peeled himself off the tree trunk and gingerly took two experimental steps.

"You didn't know that. What would have happened if she had not caught your Fey'cha?”

"Don't take me for such a dim-skull," Gaelen snapped. "I am her lu'tan. I would die before letting her come to the slightest harm—and you need to begin believing that. I can't have you trying to stop me every time I do something without explaining it to you first."

"And yet you knew I would distrust you. That shield was up even before you threw."

Gaelen grimaced. "I know you, Tairen Soul. But put your mind at ease. Before I threw my Fey'cha I spun a weave on them that would have invoked my return word if her catch were even a fraction off."

That admission mollified Rain. His tight, protective grip on Ellysetta loosened, and she slipped free.

"Next time, give a warning."

"I wanted to see what her instincts were. A warning would have negated the test."

"What sort of test, Gaelen?" Ellysetta asked in a shaken voice. She stared at her hands as if they belonged to someone else, then lifted her gaze to his.

Tajik answered in Gaelen's stead. "You reacted to his throw like a warrior dancing the Cha Baruk. Though how vel Serranis knew you would escapes me."

Cha Baruk, the Dance of Knives, was what the Fey called warfare, but it was also the name of the warriors' dance in which deadly blades were tossed back and forth in a show of power and dexterity. Ellysetta turned to Gaelen in confusion. "How did I manage to do that, when I haven't hit a single target I've aimed at since we began?"

"I spun a weave on the blades to make you see them as if they were a bit higher and farther away from your hand than they truly were."

"Why?" Rain asked, his eyes narrowing.

"For the same reason I drew a red circle on a tree when a brown circle was the real target. I knew where her hands would be when she saw my blades coming."

"And how did you know that?" Bel asked softly, his eyes steady on his friend's face.

"Because everything she has done since she gripped her first blade has been without flaw. Every throw she made, the way she held her blades, the way she released them— everything was exactly as I would have done it. The only difference is that I stand a head taller and my reach is a hand or two longer. No one—no matter how natural a talent—just picks up a blade and executes such perfect form the first time they handle a knife."

Gaelen turned to Ellysetta, "You modified the grip Bel showed you before you threw, to put your thumb on the spine of the blade for better guidance and surer aim. Why did you do that?

"I..." She glanced at her hands in surprise. "I don't know. It just felt. . . right that way, more comfortable."

"I throw the Desriel'chata the same way. As does Gil. As did our mentor, Shannisoran v'En Celay. It was the grip he taught all his chadins."

"What are you getting at, Gaelen?" Rain demanded.

"Do you remember that time in Teleon, before we traveled through the Mists, when the seizure took her and she spoke the Warrior's Creed?"

"Of course. It's not something I would ever forget."

"Well, what if the Mages did more than just tie the soul of a tairen to hers? What if they tied the soul of a Fey warrior to hers as well? It would explain how she can kill without suffering the way our women do. And how she knows the words to the Warrior's Creed and throws Desriel'chata and dances the Cha Baruk like a Fey who long ago heard the Warriors' Gate whisper his name in greeting."

"You are suggesting that the soul of my shei'tani has been somehow ... manufactured ... by the Mages, pieced together from the souls of others. But you forget she is my truemate. That bond only the gods can forge between two souls. Nei." He shook his head. "Nei, there must be some other explanation." Rain turned to the Elf in their midst. "You Saw my shei’tani’s need to wield steel like a warrior—did you also see this?"

Fanor shook his head. "Anio, but you should ask your question of the Elf king. He who is Guardian of the Dance Sees many things lesser Seers do not." The Elf waved a hand towards the crackling fire, where the spitted rabbits had turned golden crisp. "Come and eat. The food is ready, and we must ride again soon."

The Faering Mists

The beautiful Fey lady guided Lillis through the steep cliff paths of the Rhakis. As if in deference to the lady's presence, the Mists thinned while they walked so Lillis could see the tree-filled valley below.

"What is your name?" Lillis asked.

The lady smiled down at her and answered in Celierian. Her voice sounded like music. "You may call me Eiliss, little one.”

"That's a pretty name. My name is Lillis. Where are we going!"

"Someplace where you will be safe."

Lillis scrambled over a hillock. "You're speaking Celierian now."

"Because that is the language you speak."

"Oh." Lillis accepted the answer without question. "Have you seen my Papa or my sister, Lorelle?"

Eiliss brushed the backs of her fingers across Lillis's cheek. "I have, ajiana. I'm taking you to them now."

"Really?" Tears of relief pooled in Lillis's eyes. "You mean they're safe?"

"They are, and soon you'll all be together. Will you like that?" The trail turned in a steep U and continued on downward another several tairen lengths before reaching the valley floor.