He drew Ellysetta more closely against his chest. His flat gaze met the others, warning them off as the boat pushed away from the shore and turned, heading for the other side.

“You are the Brotherhood of Shadows,” Rain said. “Did Gaelen vel Serranis send you to rescue us?” Of course, it had to be Gaelen. The reckless, rock-headed lu’tan would have done anything to save Ellysetta, even send dahl’reisen for whom coming within a mile of a Fey woman was an act punishable by death.

Farel’s eyes flickered. “What do you know of Gaelen vel Serranis?”

“I know he leads a band of dahl’reisen he calls the Brotherhood of Shadows. He came to Celieria several months ago with reports of Mages returning to power and the Eld gathering an army.”

“You cannot have captured him. You would have ordered his death for approaching his sister.”

“Aiyah, I would have.”

“Yet he still lives.”

“He does.” Rain was not about to tell the dahl’reisen that Ellysetta had restored Gaelen’s soul. They might be Gaelen’s comrades, they might have rescued Rain and Ellysetta from certain doom, but they were still dahl’reisen, Fey outcasts who had chosen life on the Shadowed Path over sheisan’dahlein, the honor death. They were what Gaelen had been before Ellysetta restored his soul, honor-lost warriors capable of committing the most heinous of all Fey crimes—even murdering a Fey woman. Rain had not forgotten that Gaelen had originally come to Celieria City to kill Ellysetta because he believed she was Vadim Maur’s daughter. Instead, Ellysetta had restored Gaelen’s soul, and he’d bloodsworn himself to her protection.

“You confuse me, Tairen Soul.”

Not half so much as I confuse myself. Rain sighed and pressed his lips to Ellysetta’s brow. She had entered his life and tilted all his certainties into questions.

“We would have saved her regardless of Gaelen’s commands,” Farel announced abruptly. “She is Fey. We may have lost our path, but we still own enough of our souls that we would not have allowed a fellana to fall into Eld hands.”

Rain looked up. Farel was watching Ellysetta. There was no mistaking the helpless adoration, the naked longing. No Fey woman had ever claimed Farel’s soul, yet still he could not help but love them. It was plain on his face that even now, even dahl’reisen, he remembered the dreams of every Fey boy and man for a truemate, he remembered the untarnished beauty and limitless love of Fey women. He might want to blame them for his banishment, but he could not.

“Beloved of us all,” Rain said quietly.

“The gods have mercy upon us.”

With another man, Rain would have laughed at the familiar rejoinder. But he could not laugh with a dahl’reisen whose only hope of mercy had perished long ago.

The boats reached Celierian shores under the protective blanket of mist, and the dahl’reisen disembarked as quickly as they had boarded. As the last man leapt to dry land, the boats dissolved and shrank, becoming the fallen trunks of trees littering Celierian shores.

“The Mages will likely follow us,” Farel said. “And not necessarily by the river. We slay them where we can, but the Eld have thoroughly infiltrated the borders. The north belongs to Eld, and only now does Celieria begin to know it.”

“So Gaelen warned us months ago, but few believed him.”

Farel nodded, but this time silenced any bitter reply he might have made. “Gaelen told us to keep you safe until he arrived, so you’ll be coming with us.”

To one side, a dahl’reisen emerged from the mists leading a black ba’houda horse. “Can you ride, Tairen Soul? It’s either this or we carry you and your mate on a pair of litters. We cannot afford to let you slow us down.”

“I can ride,” Rain said. Flamed if he would let some dahl’reisen cart him about like a decrepit mortal. It wounded his pride to allow Farel’s men to lift him into the saddle, but better that than allow the dahl’reisen to touch Ellysetta. When the ba’houda actually moved, more than his pride hurt but he gritted his teeth and bore it, clasping Ellysetta tightly against him as they galloped through the Celierian hills.

Every so often, a small squad of dahl’reisen would peel off from the main group and lope away in some different direction. Decoys, Rain presumed, sent to befuddle any followers and to erase the signs of passage of the main party. The dahl’reisen operated with impressive precision. Which wasn’t all that surprising since all dahl’reisen were seasoned Fey veterans with many centuries of training and warfare beneath their belts. Once, they had been among the best warriors of the Fading Lands.

Rain was grateful for the dahl’reisen weave that kept Ellysetta unconscious. Between the sel’dor in her body, his own burning pain, and the presence of the dahl’reisen, she would have been screaming in torment. And with his arms around her—his body pressed against hers, their shared pain would have formed an agonizing harmonic.

Rolling farmland ended at the edge of a deep wood, and the dahl’reisen came to a halt. Rain’s innate tairen sense of direction and long-forgotten memories pinpointed their location. This was Verlaine Forest, the deep, vast woods in northwest Celieria. Legally, the forest was part of King Dorian’s family holdings, but in reality Verlaine Forest belonged to no one. During the Mage Wars, Fey, Celierians, and Elves alike had found refuge here amongst the trees, using the forest as a base from which to launch attacks against Eld. Dark, bitter battles had been fought all around the forest’s edges, terrible magic released in and around its ancient borders, but the Eld had never conquered the dark Verlaine, nor penetrated its deepest interior.