"Do you think you would truly have done that?"

"Aiyah. Gods help me, but I would have."

Ellysetta clasped both of Rain's hands in hers, feeling his self-loathing for the horrors he had wreaked upon the world. Countless innocents had died here that day, as well as the hated enemy.

"I know their names," he said. "Each and every one of them slain by my Rage—and there are so many. For centuries, I lived with the sound of them shrieking in my mind. Over time, I learned how to quiet them, but they're still there, still screaming. Anytime I let my barriers fall, I see their faces and relive their memories of the lives and dreams I shattered."

"Rain, you spent a thousand years in torment for one terrible act of madness. Haven't you suffered enough? Let them go."

He met her gaze, his Fey skin shining with a faint, silver luminescence, his eyes with their slightly elongated pupils glowing. "Ellysetta, I cannot. The torment of their lost lives is mine to bear. Only death or the completion of our bond can release me."

A misty breeze blew across the lake, cool from the night air sweeping down off the Rhakis mountains and rich with the scent of magic from the Mists. Rain looked up at the bright glow of rainbow lights that danced in undulating flows along the mountaintops. "So many lives lost on my account. Here at Eadmond's Field and there as well." He gestured to the Faering Mists. "Twelve thousand of the oldest, strongest Fey and all the tairen prides but one gave their lives to build the Mists."

"You cannot blame yourself for their deaths too."

A look came over his face that made her heart ache. "Can I not?" he said softly. "All the Tairen Souls but me were dead. I was the last, and I was wild with madness. But as the last, I was also the Tairen Soul, Defender of the Fey. Had I perceived a threat to the Fey, I would have flown again. So they built the Mists. I'm sure, in part, they meant to save the world from me, but mostly, they died to save me from the world. To give me peace for as long as they could in the hope that I would live and regain my sanity."

She felt his guilt, his silent horror. "Oh, Rain."

"How does a Fey repay such sacrifice? How can he ever be worthy? How does he atone for all the lives lost because of him?"

She captured his face between her hands. "By doing exactly what you're doing now," she assured him. "By living the best you can. By trying to save the people and the land those Fey loved. By honoring them, as you've done every day since I first met you."

"I think you look upon this Fey more favorably than he deserves, kem'san."

"Nei, I see him plainly enough." She laid her palm against his chest. "And I love the Fey I see."

When she gazed at Rain with such unwavering surety, he always saw a different reflection of himself shining from her eyes. A stronger Rain Tairen Soul, so much better and brighter than he truly was. As if, when she looked at him, she saw only the Rain he might have been if he'd never scorched the world, a good and worthy king. He longed to be that noble Fey, if only because he could not bear to diminish himself in her eyes.

"I cannot restore the lives I took or repair the dreams I shattered, but I can at least ensure that the brave friends and allies who fell here will never be forgotten. Will you walk with me while I do that, shei'tani?"

"Of course I will."

He led her to the shore of the lake and lit a globe of bright Fire over their heads to light the way, but when he stepped onto the dark glass, she hesitated to follow. In the Fire-light, the glass was smooth and glossy, untouched by dirt, animal tracks, or even a speck of dust. It was as if nothing of the living dared invade this sacred site of the dead.

"Perhaps we shouldn't walk on it," she suggested. "It seems a little like walking across a grave."

"Nothing of those who died here yet remains," Rain assured her. "My tairen flame saw to that. But I will spin a weave of Air beneath our feet as we walk so that we do not touch the glass."

Silvery white tendrils spun out from his fingertips, and when Ellysetta stepped out onto the glass, she slid several handspans, as if the lake were a frozen pond and her shoes were ice skimmers instead of embroidered silk ankle boots.

Barely half a manlength from the shore, Rain stopped. "An Elvish bowmaster fell beneath my flame on this spot. His name was Pallas Sparhawk, of the Deep Woods clan. He had a mate named Celia and a son who'd seen only three winters." His head bowed. "I did not meet him in life, but I will never forget his death."

Lavender Spirit gathered in Rain's hand, spinning into a three-dimensional image of a handsome, stern-eyed Elf with nut brown hair hanging in plaits around his pointed ears. Red-orange Fire spun out in a searing weave, etching the Elf's name into the glass on the spot where he died, and below that the fallen man's clan name and country. He held his hand over the etching of the name and said, "Las, Pallas Sparhawk. May the world be a kinder place when next you return." The Elf's name flashed, and the Spirit weave of the Elf's image sank into the glass lake.

"I have tied the weave to the etching of Sparhawk's name," he said. "Those who draw near will see his name and his face and share a few of his memories. Perhaps they will find it in their hearts to mourn him a little."

"It is a fine tribute to him, Rain," Ellysetta said.

"Is it? There is another reason I brought you here. When you complete our bond, my memories of these folk will become yours as well. You should know, before that happens, some small portion of what that entails. You should know—" He broke off. His jaw worked for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was gravelly with tightly checked emotion. "You should know what really happened here that day. It wasn't the romantic Fey tale Celierians have made of it. These were good people, with lives and loves of their own. If I could spin time, I would take this day back."