«Sybharukai, did you not hear me? She is Mage-claimed.”

«Mages,» Sybharukai sniffed. «You think we fear them?» She sent an image of claws indolently shredding rock. «Did not a single tairen once drive Mage evil from the earth for a thousand years? Tairen do not abandon their mates. Tairen defend the pride. She is the one you were sent to find, Rainier-Eras. Bring her to us.»

As the Tairen Soul, Rain was king of the Fey, but he was also a tairen of the Fey'Bahren pride ... which Sybharukai ruled. Still, he resisted. She did not understand the dangers. She did not understand what she was asking him to do.

«It is to defend the pride that I must not bring her. She is the daughter of the High Mage of Eld, and she is Mage-claimed. He will use her to destroy us. Through her he can even use me. I cannot allow that to happen.»

The great cat's response carried an image of Sybharukai's ears and tail twitching with irritation. «Claiming a mate is never without challenge or risk. Only the strongest prove worthy. Such ways ensure the health of the pride. Bring her to us. »

Rain's claws extended, curving and razor sharp. Venom pooled in his fangs, and licks of fire sparked in the night sky. «I cannot. I will not.»

«Rainier-Eras! Obey me! There is a reason you were chosen. Only she can save us, but only if you can save her. Do your duty, Tairen Soul! Guard her! Protect her! Bring her-”

Her voice was cut off in mid-sentence. For the first time in his life, Rain blocked the song of his tairen kin from his mind. He didn't need Sybharukai's censure to know his duty lay behind him, there in Celieria City. Without Ellysetta, the Fey and the tairen would surely die. But he also knew, with terrifying certainty, that if he did not turn from Ellysetta now, he never would. Even if that meant surrendering his own soul to the Mages.

And if the Mages gained control over a Tairen Soul, many more people than just the tairen and the Fey would perish.

After Rain left, the Fey spent several bells bitterly debating what to do about Gaelen and his knowledge of what was happening to Celierians in the north. Marissya wanted to take him to Dorian and have him tell everything he knew. Dax and Bel vehemently disagreed.

Gaelen's presence was a double-edged blade. He could swear under shei'dalin oath that Celierians in the north were Mage-claimed, but if questioned, he'd also have to admit to leading the dahl'reisen and murdering Celierian peasants. Just having him in their company lent credence to Lord Sebourne's claims of dahl'reisen-Fey collusion.

In the end, Bel and Dax convinced Marissya it would be best to keep Gaelen's presence a secret, even from Dorian. The risk of revealing him was simply too great.

Ellysetta spent the entire night curled up in a deep wing-backed chair in Rain's palace bedroom, staring out into the night, watching the Mother and Daughter cross the sky as the small silver bells of the night rang out in slow, lonely succession. A twenty-five-fold weave hummed around the room, enveloping her in buzzing power. Gaelen had offered to add Azrahn to the weave, saying it would protect her against the powers of the Mage Mark, but the others almost pulled red on him again for the suggestion.

What little sleep she got was tormented by new nightmares of Rain turning from her in revulsion, of Fey voices crying "Mage-claimed!" in the same way the accusers of all her previous dreams had cried "Demon-possessed!”

Worst of all, she dreamed of shining, grim-faced Fey legions throwing a thousand razor-sharp knives to pierce her, and of Rain Tairen Soul swooping down to scorch her with incinerating fire as she stood before them, crackling with dark power, her eyes bottomless pits of blackness blazing with red flame.

Powered by strong, unnatural winds from the west, the sky itself turned against Rain. Sybharukai was not pleased with his defiance, nor forgiving of his stubborn refusal to hear reason. Strong headwinds surged across the skies like waves on a stormy sea, doing their best to push him back towards Celieria City and Ellysetta, forcing him to wrest each mile from the sky through fierce, hard-powered flight.

Furiously he refused to turn back. The winds became a tempest. Towering thunderclouds blossomed. Buffeted and tossed about the sky, he kept his head turned into the wind and his wings stubbornly pumping. He flew for what seemed an eternity, with no idea how much progress-if any-he was making, but refusing to stop.

As he flew, drawing further and further from Ellysetta's healing presence, he heard the rising murmurs of voices-of the millions he'd slain-hissing their accusations, as they had for centuries. Murderer. Destroyer.

Worse were the forlorn, grief-stricken voices of the friends and innocents who'd died beneath his scorching fire.

I had a family, children!

My Sahra ... we were to be wed come spring.

Rain, my friend, how could you do this to me?

They reproached him, wept for all their lost happiness, the lost days of life he'd stolen from them, reminding him that he-not Ellysetta-was the one with the true taint on his soul. If ever any creature deserved to be reviled and condemned, it was he.

He raged against the voices, wanting to protest, knowing he could not. Gouts of flame spewed from his muzzle, turning rain to steam as it showered down from the thunderclouds, but still, stubbornly, he flew.

It wasn't until much, much later, in the small bells of the night, that the clouds finally parted. And when they did, fresh fury swelled inside him. His wily tairen kin had used his stubbornness against him. He'd been so busy battering himself against their raging, tairen-spawned winds, that he hadn't noticed those winds had changed their course. Instead of blowing him back to Celieria City, they'd blown him hundreds of miles north, towards Eld.