A few of the other Fey women, drawn by the admiring stories of Ellysetta-makai's courage and strength, began to pay afternoon visits to the training grounds too, but none of them could stay more than a few bells before the constant thud of flesh on flesh and the occasional sprays of scarlet blood sent them fleeing for more peaceful venues.

"I don't know how you can stand it," Tealah told Ellysetta after her fifth valiant attempt to sit with Ellysetta at the training grounds. Venarra's assistant had turned out to be a friendly woman, curious, bright, and much more willing than the hall's keeper to accept Ellysetta as a sister instead of a potentially dangerous interloper in need of constant watching. "If I don't keep my barriers at full strength, I feel each blow as if it were striking my own flesh. Don't you?"

Ellysetta shook her head. "I feel the serious injuries—the worst of them I sense like a stabbing pain in my chest or my belly—but the rest"—she shrugged—"nei. I'm aware of the pain, but I don't…feel it. Does that make sense?"

"Aiyah, of course. That's what my barriers do for me, though mine are clearly nowhere near as strong as yours, and apparently you don't need to constantly reinforce them like the rest of us do." Tealah uncorked the flask of faerilas she'd brought with her and took a sip. After her third visit to the Academy, she'd begun bringing a bottle of water from the Source, using it to restore the magical energies she expended maintaining her shields so she could stay more than a bell or two at a time.

Ellysetta crossed her arms over her knees. "If being here on the training ground is so difficult for Fey women, how do you manage to serve in the healing tents during war?"

"Only the shei'dalins serve in war—well, except the Mage Wars. But those were such desperate days. Any Fey beyond the first blush of childhood served in some capacity."

"But I thought all Fey women were shei'dalins."

Tealah laughed. "No doubt that's because the only Fey woman Celierians have known in a thousand years is Marissya. Nei, many of us—most of us, these days, in fact— aren't shei'dalins. Or at least not shei'dalin enough to matter. We're all empaths, of course, and all healers—some stronger than others—but only the strongest of us can Truthspeak. That's what shei'dalin means: speaker of truth. With that gift comes the ability to withstand considerably more pain than other empaths can bear."

"But you're a shei'dalin?" She'd seen Tealah a number of times in the Hall of Truth and Healing.

Tealah nodded. "A minor one, though. Not nearly as strong as Venarra or Marissya."

"That explains why you can stay here, near the training ground, longer than the others who came."

"That," she agreed, then shook her faerilas flask, "and this. Nalia, Venarra, and Marissya could stay much longer than I—and without rejuvenation—but I doubt any of them could come and sit all day, day after day, as you do." She cocked her head to one side, her teal blue eyes considering. "There's even a sense of energy about you when you're here that you don't have when you're in the Hall of Scrolls or even in the Hall of Truth and Healing."

"Is there?"

"Mmm. You shine brighter here, and not because your shields are stronger. It's almost as if some part of you thrives on the violence."

Ellysetta drew back in horror. "You think I enjoy seeing them hurt one another?"

Tealah clapped a hand over her cheeks. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. Of course, I don't mean you take pleasure in their pain. No shei'dalin, no matter how strong, would ever do so. I only meant…" Her voice trailed off. She shook her head and bit her lip. "Do not listen to my babblings. I am a fool. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course you shine brighter here. Your truemate is here. It must be his presence that affects you."

Despite Tealah's belated reassurances, her comment about Ellysetta seeming to thrive on the violence of the warriors echoed in Ellysetta's mind throughout the rest of the day. Later that night, after she and Rain had retired to their rooms, she posed the question to him.

"What does it mean, Rain, that I can watch you and all the warriors batter yourselves senseless and not feel horrified?"

They had bathed in the Feyreisen's enormous silverstone tub—which involved more laughter, splashing, and love play than cleaning—and were now lying naked amid the softly billowing silken sheers hanging about their bed, nibbling on a bowl of succulent redberries and enjoying the cool jasmine- and honeyblossom-scented breeze blowing in through the balcony arches. The remains of their private repast lay discarded on a nearby table, beside an uncorked bottle of blue Celierian pinalle on ice and a steaming pot of keflee, which Rain had once again been trying unsuccessfully to convince Ellysetta to share with him—for the benefit of all those Fey couples hoping for the blessings of fertility, of course.

Freshly washed and freshly healed by Ellysetta's warm hands, Rain drizzled a trail of sticky redberry juice up the soft, flat plane of her belly from her navel to the tip of one small, round breast, then followed the trail with lips and tongue until she shuddered with a mix of pleasure and irritation.

"Parei. I mean it." She grabbed his hands. "I'm worried, Rain. You've all said I'm a shei'dalin. Shouldn't I be … oh, I don't know…weeping and wailing over the warriors' pain when they injure themselves?"