A sharp knife ripped into Shan's side, and he convulsed in sudden, breathless pain. Vadim had tired of toying with him and had begun the torture in earnest. Elfeya's silent scream made Shan's soul howl.

He felt a distant, troubled stirring. An awareness forged between himself and the child by Vadim Maur's darkest evil. Shan could usually block the link but he'd never been able to sever it, even when he knew firsthand the horrors it inflicted. He pulled back, holding the pain to himself and Elfeya alone, but the torture had only just begun. The pain would get far worse, and then he would not be able to keep his agony and rage from spilling over.

Oh, child, I am sorry.

The king's carriage bounced over the cobbled streets. Inside the royal conveyance, Ellie sat alone, huddled in one velvet-cushioned corner, furious at the Fey for their ways, furious at Rain for not telling her. Furious at herself for not thinking enough to ask.

Every Fey tale she'd ever read was a story of balances. For every light, there was a shadow. For every smile, there was a tear. For every gift, a sacrifice.

If she did not complete the truemate bond, Rain would die. And Bel, with his too-ancient eyes and carefully hidden hope, would strike the killing blow, destroying both his best friend and his own salvation. Rain and Bel both accepted the possibility without question and without complaint.

Perhaps life was more precious to mortals because they had less of it to enjoy, but she didn't want even one more person dying on her behalf. Certainly not Rain or Bel.

The carriage slowed as it pulled up before the Baristani home. A moment later, the door opened, and Bel helped her descend the narrow steps. She paused in the street to look up at the welcoming lights shining from the windows of her family home. Her parents were still awake, and the Fey hadn't yet woven their twenty-five-fold weaves around the house.

As she approached the front door, the familiar reek of onions and bacon made Ellie's back stiffen. She knew that odor.

"You look a fine slut, Ellysetta Baristani, all dressed in your fancy silks and satins." Den Brodson stepped from the shadows.

Fey blades hissed out of their sheaths.

"No ... it's all right." Ellysetta waved her guards back. They didn't cover their steel, but neither did they dismember Den on the spot. What a shame the Fey hadn't included an anti-Den thread in the Spirit weaves that kept the rabble-rousers out of the neighborhood. Since his parents lived nearby, he must be able to pass through the weave at will. She lifted her chin and met her former suitor's sullen glare. "What do you want, Den?”

"The bride your dishonorable, betrothal-breaking rultshart of a father promised me would do, for starters.”

Ellysetta bit back a searing retort. With her strangely heightened senses, she could feel his anger, his hatred. His dark, acid emotions set her on edge. She struggled to remain calm. The evening had already been difficult enough without her adding to the disturbance. Still, she'd had more than enough of Den Brodson and his groundless claims. "My father is a fine and decent man. The betrothal was broken legally, in a court of law, and your parents are wealthy beyond their dreams because of it. “

"My father was bribed, his mind twisted by that Fey sorcerer's tricks. There was nothing lawful about it.”

"Your father saw more gold than he would earn in a thousand lifetimes, and he grabbed it," she corrected sharply. "There was no sorcery involved.”

"You bear my mark!”

"No longer." She turned her head to show him her unblemished throat. "And I only bore it because of your deceit, so don't bray on about Fey sorcerer's tricks.”

Den growled a nasty oath and spat on the ground. "Their magic may have removed the mark, but we both know who claimed you first, Ellie.”

"Why did you want me as your wife in the first place? It's not as though you ever harbored any feelings for me, except the thrill you got in bullying me when I was a child.”

"What do you know of my feelings?”

"Enough to know that you had no tender ones for me."

"I would have treated you kindly.”

"Meaning you'd only have beaten me twice a week instead of daily." Her unsettled emotions coalesced into anger, and she glared at him. "You're a greedy little bully of a man, Den Brodson, with precious few kindnesses in you--if there are any at all. You've never loved anyone in your life, least of all me. ”

"Love?" He barked an ugly, mocking laugh. "Is that what this is all about? You think the Tairen Soul loves you?”

If he'd meant to hurt her with that, he'd failed. "No, I know he doesn't love me. But he needs me, Den, and that's enough for now.”

"He doesn't need you. He needs your magic and he needs your womb. Ellie, to breed more Tairen Souls for the Fey. The fact that you come with them is just a little inconvenience he'll have to deal with to get what he wants. Keep that in mind on your wedding night.”

She laughed with genuine amusement. "Was that supposed to hurt my feelings, you pompous little bloat toad? Half the women in this city-including most noblewomen in court-would kill to have Rain show them a fraction of the devotion he showers on me. Do you honestly believe any woman would choose you when she could have the king of the Fey?”

His face darkened, and he took a threatening step towards her. "Petchka. No woman talks to me that way.”

He was on his back in the street before he moved another inch. Kieran knelt over him, a razor-sharp red-handled blade held at Den's throat, icy menace gleaming from blue eyes that normally shone with laughter. "Little sausage, I've lost all patience with you. If you live past the next minute, you will never come near the Feyreisa or her family again. Do you understand?" When Den nodded very carefully, Kieran gave him a slight smile that was even more frightening than the deadly look in his eyes. "Kabei, a wise decision. A first for you, perhaps?" Without taking his eyes off his captive, Kieran asked, "What would the Feyreisa like me to do with this annoyance?”