"What happened last night could have changed everything," Dax added. "Obviously, Marissya and I haven't yet had a chance to gauge the aftereffects of Ellysetta's weave”

Marissya blushed again and sipped her keflee, lifting her eyes to inspect the elegant gilded plaster moldings on the ceiling.

Rain looked at Dax and raised an admiring brow, but took mercy on Marissya and let her blush pass without comment. "So, basically, there are thirty lords who hold Celieria's fate in their hands," he summated.

"Assuming more do not change their votes this morning," Dax agreed. "Of those still undecided, Great Lords Orly and Verakis are the most powerful. If we can gain their support, we may have a chance. Each of them will likely pull another dozen votes from the lesser lords.”

"I'm still surprised Dorian won Morvel to our side. He bears no love for our kind. He made that abundantly clear last night.”

"He's got five unwed daughters and no takers for them," Dax said. "If you saw them, you'd understand why. His income has suffered thanks to poor harvests these last few years, and he can't offer large enough dowries to sweeten the pot. I know he told you he wants to provide for his bastard son, but in truth, he's seeking gold enough to get those daughters off his hands.”

"Dorian also promised him two prestigious estates in the south," Marissya said. "He'd be the second-largest landholder in Celieria. That's quite an incentive for a man like Lord Morvel.”

"Well, I hope greed still holds the power to lure him after last night." Rain grimaced as he considered the possible fallout from Ellysetta's weave. "The last I saw him, he was hustling his wife away from the table, and she was shedding clothes as she went. Ah, gods." He rubbed his face. "I pray they made it to their rooms before ...”

Marissya nodded. "He would not be one to forgive a public humiliation.”

Grimly the three of them looked at one another in silence. It wouldn't take the nobles long to realize that magic, not simply an overindulgence in pinalle and keflee, had compelled their actions. While the Fey might shrug off a night of uninhibited, weave-driven mating with laughs, groans, and a few blushes, most Celierian were much more tightly laced about such matters. Worse, unintentionally woven though it had been, Ellysetta's magic had overridden the wills and inhibitions of Celieria's most powerful nobles, individuals who reigned as kings on their own estates. Last night, those kings had danced like puppets on strings beneath the unyielding dictates of her weave.

"We must assess the damage and mend what bridges we can," Rain said. "I don't want blame to fall on Ellysetta. If you are questioned, imply the weave was mine. Who's to say it wasn't my own need that drove her in any case?”

"I'll speak to Dorian," Marissya promised. "If he didn't realize the weave was Ellysetta's, there's a good chance none of the other lords will have either.”

Rain's jaw tightened at the mention of King Dorian's name, and he gave a curt nod. He knew he should approach Dorian personally, king to king, but Marissya was far more levelheaded when dealing with her nephew than Rain could ever be.

The man could have ended this entire political struggle by invoking primus-King's First Right-to keep the borders closed to the Eld. It was what a strong king would have done. But Dorian had surrendered too much of his power to Celieria's noble Houses. He sought consensus when he should have provided leadership; and despite Rain's warning about the growing darkness in the north, without hard proof of a reconstituted Mage presence, Dorian refused to override the will of the Council of Lords.

"Teleos pledged his support," Rain said, "though I doubt any lords who distrust us will change their votes because of him." Teleos had too much Fey blood in his ancestry for the comfort of most pure mortals, and it showed in his Fey eyes and faintly luminescent skin. "Lord Barrial is-at least, was-in our corner, and he seems to be well liked by most of the other lords. If last night's weave didn't turn him against us, he may be a very useful ally. Did you see the sorreisu kiyr he was wearing last night?”

"Aiyah," Dax said. "We were wondering about that ourselves. He's not a regular at court, and that's the first time Marissya or I have seen him with the crystal.”

"I'll ask for a meeting with him and see what I can learn." Rain leaned back in his seat and sipped the warm keflee. "For now, let's focus on finding a way to convince these other lords that the Eld still pose a threat-or at the very least make an alliance with the Fey seem more lucrative than one with the Eld."

Sunlight filtering through her closed eyelids filled Queen Annoura's gaze with a wash of red, like a sea of watery blood. She peeled one eye open, then groaned against the stabbing light and dragged a pillow over her face. Gods' mercy, she ached all over. From the tip of her toes to the crown of her head, every muscle, every sinew, every inch of skin felt sore and raw.

A rumbling snore sounded in her ear, and she turned her head just enough to find her husband Dorian sprawled out beside her, naked, one arm and leg flung possessively across her.

She glanced down and found her own body spread-eagled with vulgar abandon atop the tangled bedsheets. Had the servants come in and seen her like this? Celieria's queen, naked and flung open like a starfish, bared to any gawking fool? Grabbing one edge of the silk sheet, she pulled it over herself and hissed as even that slight pressure irritated raw, whisker-burned skin.