The dahl'reisen scar was a visible mark of the former Fey warrior's slow slide towards corruption. How were the Mage Marks she bore any less condemning, even if they were impossible to see except in the presence of Azrahn? If sheisan'dahlein was the only honorable choice for dahl'reisen, then what did that say about her?

Ellysetta looked up at the stars shining over the palace and followed Rain slowly up the hill.

Celieria City ~ Royal Palace

Half a continent away, the flames of a thousand candles gleamed like stars from the chandeliers overhead, and the sparkle of ten thousand jewels glittered from the resplendent raiment of the courtiers gathered in the gilded ballroom of Celieria's Royal Palace.

A voice called out in ringing tones, "Lord Geris Bolor," and the members of the court watched with interest as the broad-shouldered and handsome newcomer to the court made his entrance to bow before their royal majesties, King Dorian and Queen Annoura of Celieria. Despite the titillating scandal of the prior Lord diBolor's disinheritance, the royals welcomed the new Lord Bolor warmly enough. Moments later, one of Queen Annoura's own favorites, Lady Jiarine Montevero, was escorting the new lord about the ballroom and introducing him to the nobles gathered there.

Nour's gaze scanned the ballroom, then stopped abruptly. His spine stiffened and his shields instinctively locked into place. "And who, my dear, is that lovely young lady there in the rose and the gentleman in bronze beside her?"

Jiarine followed his gaze and arched a brow. "You have a good eye, my lord. That is Great Lord Barrial and his daughter Talisa diSebourne. One of the Fey who accompanied the Tairen Soul claimed she was his truemate."

"But she's married to Sebourne's heir?"

"Yes, that's why she has such a tragic, melancholy air about her. The king upheld Lord diSebourne's marriage claim, and the Fey who tried to claim her left with the rest of his countrymen two weeks ago. She's been quite distraught ever since." Jiarine heaved an exaggerated sigh, and then her red lips curled.

Nour's eyes flickered with faint irritation. "You may understand the court, my dear, but you have much to learn about the Fey." He directed his attention back to the very beautiful and indeed quite melancholy Lady diSebourne and let his gaze sweep across the section of ballroom surrounding her, counting the faint telltale glow of Fey invisibility weaves. A full quintet, to guard the precious shei'tani, plus another two off to one side. The unfortunate suitor, no doubt, with a friend to keep him from doing something rash like starting a war.

The corner of his lip curled up. The possibilities of that situation bore careful consideration. For now, however, he had other work to do.

"Where is this Great Lord Darramon you were telling me about?"

"Over there, just approaching Queen Annoura." Jiarine nodded her head in the direction of Celieria's beautiful queen. "As I told you, his wife is very ill, and from what Fanette was able to pry out of his servants, the Fey have offered to heal her. He's preparing a caravan to take her to the Garreval. Fanette tells me they're scheduled to leave tomorrow."

"Then we must move quickly."

Chapter sixteen

We are the steel no enemy can shatter.

We are the magic no Dark power can defeat.

We are the rock, upon which evil breaks like waves.

We are Fey, warriors of honor, champions of Light.

Fey Warriors' Creed

The Warriors' Academy of Dharsa was an imposing structure perched on the crest of Anas Mena, the city's northernmost hilltop. Like all other buildings in the city, the Academy was built of gleaming white stone, but the golden spires on its roof were great seyani blades stabbing up into the sky, and all along the rooftop, silverstone Fey warriors crouched in battle stance, arms extended, curved meicha gripped in silverstone fists.

At the front of the building, the Warriors' Gate leading into the compound was a broad, barrel-arched corridor with a series of four inner gates that symbolized the four-hundred-year journey undertaken by every boy who grew to become a lethal, disciplined Fey warrior within these walls.

The first gate was Shalin, the boy, carved from fresh-scented fruitwood that portrayed dozens of scenes from the first hundred years of a Fey youth's warrior's training. The second was Cha, the blade. Forged of shining steel, its gleaming surface was etched with the symbols of the advanced sword moves taught to Fey warriors during their second hundred years. The third gate, Faer, which meant "magic," was woven entirely of hundredfold weaves of power, symbolizing the mastery of magic that was the focus of the third century of a Fey's training.

And finally, Chakai, the champion, a carved silver-stone gate as thick as a Fey was tall and spiked with hundreds of sharp steel Fey'cha blades. Across its weighty, unyielding surface, impossible to move except through magic, the Warriors' Creed was written in blazing five-fold weaves.

Gaelen, Bel, Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil stood beside Rain on the stone-paved road leading up to the gate. All of them stared up at the looming entrance, flanked on each side by two massive silverstone Fey warriors who looked down as if in grim warning upon all who entered.

"You are certain you want to do this?"

Rain glanced at Gaelen. That had to be at least the fourth time the former dahl'reisen had asked the question since breakfast two bells ago. Though Gaelen looked as cocky as ever, his oft-repeated question revealed just how thin that façade of self-assurance truly was.

"I am certain," Rain answered, as he had each of the previous three times. "Are you?"