We thought it would be nice to hear from a fan of C.L. Wilson’s and her works. C.L. has a Yahoogroup fan club that grows larger each day as more and more fans discovers her books and join.

Those die-hard fans have anxiously and sometimes impatiently waited for this last book in their favorite series and they’ve kept themselves occupied by rereading the previous books, playing “what if” on the Yahoo loop, along with Tairen Soul trivia and quote games. They are a dedicated bunch.

So fan Heidi Skinner stepped up the plate to give us a last few words about her excitement over Ms. Wilson’s series and what it’s meant to her.

I’d like to thank Heidi for her contribution today, as well as C.L. Wilson for her awesome series and taking the time to be with us on this very busy day for her. It’s been a fun day and we appreciate all of you stopping by to join in.

Here’s Heidi.

Wow! I can’t believe the time is finally here! There are no words for how excited I am that Crown of Crystal Flame is about to be released! This month of October has flown by, spending most of the time on C.L. Wilson’s website and blog, reading about and joining in on the release countdown of CoCF, answering questions each day to test one’s knowledge of her past books so you’re ready to read what happens to Rain and Ellie in their final book.

C.L. Wilson has really taken a lot of time this last month on her website and in her Yahoogroup to respond to posts from fans who ask questions about events in this last book in the Tairen Soul series or even try to finagle information out of her because they’re too eager to wait. It’s nice to read books from an author who takes the time to chat with you individually and makes you feel like you are a part of this awesome series she’s written.

To me this series has meant quite a bit. Since I picked up the first book, Lord of the Fading Lands, and read the part where, despite all the chaos that has happened, and as Rain and Ellie are standing in the palace with King Dorian, Ellie is ready to blame herself for all of that chaos, Rain grabs her chin, looks into her eyes and tells her that she has done nothing wrong, that she is bright and shining, I have been hooked. That might be one of the smaller parts of the books, but to me that statement to Ellie from Rain kind of sums up the series, no darkness holds dominion over the light.

It’s such a privilege to read all of these books, to see Rain and Ellie’s story further develop, to see her learn how to accept her magic……and kick some Mage butt along the way! I can’t wait to read how and if Rain and Ellie’s bond will be completed. Will her parents and sisters be saved? Will good conquer all once again?

I don’t know about you, but by the time this post appears on Tuesday evening, I will probably already have my copy of Crown of Crystal Flame read!

Heidi

Action begins the war in this edition of the series in Queen of Song and Souls. I remember my heart thudding with each throw of a fey’cha or thrust of a sword or toss of a magical ball of fire. Ms. Wilson pulls no punches in the beginning of this war with the Eld mages.

The emotion is  high when Ellie is unable to complete her truemate bond with Rain, not knowing why, which pushes him closer and closer to the dying madness that will take him from her permanently if she never succeeds.

This book was to have been the last of the series, but Ms. Wilson’s brain and talent work on overdrive. Thank goodness, her fans say!

My review of QoSaS is below, along with an excerpt from the book. Enjoy!

Sandy M’s review of Queen of Song and Souls (Tairen Soul, Book 4) by C.L. Wilson
Fantasy Romance published by Leisure Books 27 Oct 09

This is one of those books you can’t wait to get your hands on. Anticipation courses through you as you open it up and finally get a taste of the wonderful writing, get reacquainted with old friends, and get caught up in the new joys and tragedies they face. But then when you reach the halfway mark in the story, it becomes one of those books that you don’t want to ever end. You want to slow down in your reading and make it last so much longer than the day you’ve already spent with it, but you simply can’t. Everything about this book hooks your emotions and puts you through the wringer over and over again, leaving you both overjoyed and saddened at the same time and also leaving you wanting more.

Right off the bat in this latest installment in her Tairen Soul series, C.L. Wilson not only puts her fans through the emotional wringer, but she also squeezes their heart until it either has to burst with happiness or break with heartache. And all of that is done with that richness of writing that Ms. Wilson is now known for. That alone is worth picking up the books in this series.

Rain and Ellie are still on their course toward their bond of truemates. Ellie has still yet to complete her bond, thus the madness that is inflicted on the mate who has bonded has begun for Rain, the knowledge of which he’s trying to keep from her as they make their way across the land to gather allies in the Mage war that has already taken too many lives. The scenes in which Rain loses control, full of bloodlust, are terrific but heart-rending scenes.

See the remainder of the Queen of Song and Souls review here.

Prologue

Celieria ~ the Garreval

She was only nine years old, and she was going to die.

Lillis Baristani clung to her beloved friend, Earth master Kieran vel Solande, and showered his throat with frightened tears.

Around them the world had gone mad. Magic, blades, and barbed sel’dor arrows filled the air. Blood ran red on the ground. Below, at the base of the Rhakis mountains, dozens of vile, snarling, monstrous wolf-beasts called darrokken were charging up the slope towards the small, fleeing party while the creatures’ evil masters flung globe after globe of blue-white Mage Fire to cut off all chance of escape.

Whatever the Mage Fire touched disintegrated on contact…not dissolved …simply disappeared. Entire chunks of the mountain evaporated in an instant, and the ground was shifting and shaking beneath Kieran’s feet.

“Kieran!” his friend Kiel shouted, pointing uphill. “The mountain!” Another frightful barrage of Mage Fire had dissolved half the peak above their heads. The remaining rock and stone gave a rumbling shriek and collapsed, sending a wall of dirt, stone, and wood rushing towards them.

“Hold tight, little one,” Kieran whispered. Lillis tightened her arms around his neck, pressing so close that her kitten, Snowfoot, mewed a protest and squirmed in the sling tied round her neck. Kieran turned to raise both hands and she felt the electric tingle of his gathering magic. It danced across her skin like crackling sparks of green light. Inside her, Lillis’s own magic rose in response.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face to his throat. Bright Lord, please help Kieran, she prayed. I don’t want to him to die. Or Papa, Lorelle, Kiel, or me either.

She felt the vibrations of Kieran’s throat against her lips as he shouted defiantly and flung out his weaves. The magic left him—and her too—in a great rush. Please, gods, please gods, please, gods.

Incredibly—or, perhaps, miraculously—the crumbling mountainside froze. Lillis risked a glance up to confirm that they were not about to be crushed flat as a griddle cake, then squeezed her eyes shut again.

“Five-fold weaves, my brothers!” Kieran shouted. “Keep that scorching Mage Fire off us!” Suddenly, he gave a grunt of pain, and Lillis felt him falter. Her head lifted, and though the battle raging all around terrified her, she forced her eyes open.

Kieran was arrow-shot. The sight of the ugly black, barbed metal arrow puncturing his thigh made her belly lurch.

**Get down, Lillis,** his voice murmured in her mind. **Run to your father. Kiel and I will hold them off.**

**But what about you?** It was the first time she’d ever spoken to him mind-to-mind. **You’re coming too, aren’t you?**

**In a chime …once Kiel and I deal with these Eld rultsharts.** From a face too handsome to be mortal, his normally laughing blue eyes regarded her with unsettling solemnity, and then she knew what he would not say. He turned his head to press a kiss to her face, then another to the thin arms wrapped so tight around his neck, and though he did not release his hands from his weave, she felt the tug of Spirit fingers prying her grip loose. She fought to cling, but her childish muscles were no match for his magic. Her hold on him lost, she slid to the ground. **Go, kitling. Quickly.** Another nudge from invisible hands shoved her towards Papa.

“Master Baristani,” Kieran cried aloud to her father, “take the girls. Go with the shei’dalins into the Mists! Run!”

Clutching Snowfoot to her chest, Lillis stumbled across the uneven ground towards Papa’s outstretched arms and the small knot of scarlet-gowned healers. Before she reached them, a darting flash of darkness caught her eye and a foul odor filled the air. She turned to find a darrokken rushing towards her, its red eyes glowing like the Dark Lord’s flames, venomous saliva dripping from its yellowed fangs. All over the foul wolflike creature’s scaly back, sores oozed green, odorous slime. She turned to run, but her foot caught between two rocks and she went down. Snowfoot still clutched to her chest, she hit the ground hard. Knees and elbows took a nasty crack, and she bit her lip so hard her mouth filled with the salty, metallic tang of blood. She jumped to her feet, but pain shot out from her ankle, radiating halfway up her shin. With a cry, she fell down again just as the darrokken lunged.

One of the Fey warriors made a sprinting leap towards her, and scarlet-hilted Fey’cha daggers flew from his hands. The razor-sharp blades cut through the monster’s tough, leathery hide, and the darrokken dropped dead in its tracks.

“I’ve got you.” The warrior who’d killed the darrokken reached for her arm, but before he could grab hold, another of the monstrous beasts was upon him. Its fangs sank into his leg, and the Fey toppled, rolling over as he fell and landing with unsheathed blades in his hands. “Run, child,” he cried.

Those were the warrior’s last words. He bared his teeth in a snarl and plunged his red Fey’cha into the vulnerable belly of the beast just as the monster snapped its sharp yellow fangs around the warrior’s throat and ripped. Blood sprayed across Lillis’s face in a hot, red rain. Fey and beast died together, fighting, tearing, and slashing until the last breath of life left their bodies.

“Lillis! Get up! Run!” Kiel cried. His blue eyes were filled with fear, his blond hair spattered with dirt and blood. Two black arrows stuck out of his shoulder like grotesque spines. “Run for the Mists. Lorelle, Master Baristani—go!”

One of the shei’dalins in their party rushed forward to grab Lillis. A rapid healing weave spun out in golden-tinted waves of color, and the pain in her ankle subsided. The woman helped Lillis to her feet while another took Lorelle’s hand and began to run towards the shifting, sparkling clouds that guarded the Fading Lands. More darrokken rushed up the mountainside and dove into the middle of the small group. Lillis shrieked as the monstrous wolf-beasts slaughtered half a dozen more Fey and drove three of the shei’dalins back down the mountain towards the waiting Eld.

When she reached the edge of the Mists, Lillis turned back to watch the battle below. The remaining warriors guarding their escape were falling fast to the ferocious maws of the darrokken, while the Mages continued bombarding the mountainside with their devastating magic. A tide of Fey warriors burst from the Mists-filled pass of the Garreval and raced across the ground at lightning speed, swords flashing silvery bright in the sunlight.

Black Eld arrows turned day to night, and hundreds of Fey went down. Kieran fell with them.

“Kieran!” Lillis shrieked as she watched him fall. “Kieran!” She started to rush towards him, but the shei’dalin grabbed her and held her fast.

“Nei,” the veiled woman whispered. “You cannot go to him. He would not want it. He dies so you may live.”

With unexpected strength, the shei’dalin shoved Lillis towards the shifting radiance of the Faering Mists. “Quickly, into the Mists. It’s our only chance.”

Lillis struggled against her hold, squirming and flailing as the tears poured down her face. She screamed Kieran’s name again and again as the shei’dalin dragged her away. Before they’d gone more than a few steps, the mountain gave a groaning rumble that escalated to a deafening roar.

Kieran’s Earth weave collapsed and the entire mountaintop caved in, sending shards of shattered rocks, splintered trees, and a wave of earth crashing towards the valley below. The ground beneath Lillis’s feet fell away, and with a wail she toppled back into the shining white abyss of the Faering Mists.

Her last sight was of Kieran, screaming defiance as the avalanche enveloped him.

Chapter One

Fading Lands, Faering Mists.
Fey warrior, champion of Light.
Fading Lands, Faering Mists.
Leading a never-ending Fight.

Tairen Soul: Singing, soaring high.
Tairen Soul: Thundering, roaring cry.

Fading Lands, Faering Mists.
Fey warrior, fiercest of Fey.
Fading Lands, Faering Mists.
Alone, leading the way.

~ Fiercest of Fey, by Corvan Lief, Celierian Poet

Celieria ~ Orest

Two weeks later

Ellysetta Baristani plunged her hands into the gaping cavity of the dying boy’s chest. Her fingers closed around his heart, pumping the still chambers with desperate force as a blaze of powerful, golden-white magic poured from her soul into his.

The fading brightness of his life force tasted warm and tart on her tongue, like a sun-ripened peach plucked too soon from the tree. So young. So innocent. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Too young for this. Too young for war. Too young to die.

Just like her sisters, Lillis and Lorelle, who’d been lost in the Faering Mists during the battle of Teleon.

“Please, my lady. Save him. Please, save my Aartys. He’s all I’ve got left.” The mother of the dying child stood sobbing beside the table, her eyes swollen and red rimmed, chapped hands twisting the hem of the blood-soaked apron tied around her waist. Her desperation and grief-induced terror pounded at Ellysetta’s empathic senses like hammer blows.

Not that a few more hammer blows made much difference in the emotional din swirling around the scarlet healing tents that had been erected on the mist- and rainbow-filled plazas of Upper Orest. As always when a battle raged nearby, the sheer numbers of wounded and dying warriors made it impossible for the dozen scarlet-veiled shei’dalin healers to weave peace upon them all. Not even the roar of the great Kiyera’s Veil waterfalls could drown out the screams of pain and pleas for mercy.

“I’ll do my best, Jonna,” Ellysetta vowed. She wanted to promise to save Aartys, but the last weeks here on Celieria’s war-torn northern border had taught her too well. Death, once a stranger, had become an all-too-familiar acquaintance.

Ellysetta looked up and met Jonna’s eyes over the boy’s limp body. The weeping mortal woman was one of the hearth witches who tended the wounded and dying. She knew death as intimately as Ellysetta now did, but that didn’t stop her from fighting against it with every ounce of strength she possessed—or from begging for a salvation she knew was beyond the capabilities of all mortal healers …and all but one of the Fey shei’dalins.

Ellysetta bit her lip. Aartys shouldn’t be here on her table—and she couldn’t help feeling partly to blame. After all, if not for her, the Fey might never have engaged their ancient enemy in this new Mage War. If not for Ellysetta, her truemate, Rainier vel’En Daris, would never have blown his golden horn this morning to call his Fey warriors and the mortal men of Orest to battle. And if he’d never blown that blast, the sound would never have spurred Jonna’s young son to snatch up his dead father’s sword and rush to fight alongside the men of Orest and his heroes, the immortal Shining Folk of the Fading Lands.

Yet those things had happened. And now, here they were, a child maimed and dying, his mother weeping and pleading for his life, both utterly dependent on Ellysetta and her magic to snatch his life from the jaws of death.

“Hold his hand, Jonna,” Ellysetta commanded. “Feed him your strength. Call to him. Don’t stop until I tell you.” And then, though she shouldn’t have vowed it, she did: “If there’s any way to save Aartys, I will.”

“Oh, my lady.” Jonna’s lips trembled and tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, thank you, my lady. Thank you.”

She started to come around the table, but Ellysetta stopped her. “Hold his hand, Jonna.” The command came out more curtly than usual. She didn’t want this woman kneeling at her feet, kissing her hem as other Celierians had done when pleading for her to save a loved one. She wasn’t a goddess to be worshiped.

“Teska, Jonna. Please,” she urged more gently. “Hold your son’s hand. There isn’t much time.” And because there truly wasn’t, she infused the words with a spider-silk-thin filament of compulsion, woven from shining lavender Spirit magic.

Jonna instantly snatched up her son’s hand.

“And pray, my friend,” Ellysetta said, adding silently, For all our sakes.

The words to the Bright Lord’s devotion tumbled from the mortal healer’s lips.

Ellysetta flicked a glance at the tall, grim Fey warrior standing near the corner of her healing table.

Without a word, Gaelen vel Serranis stepped forward to lay a hand upon her shoulder. Crackling energy flooded her veins as the most infamous of the five bloodsworn warriors of her quintet surrendered his immense power for her use. The sort of healing she was about to do would take more than her own vast stores of power, and though usually a shei’dalin would rely on her truemate to supplement her strength, Rain was on the battlefield, where the king of the Fey belonged, rather than at her side.

Ellysetta closed her eyes, shut out the world, and gathered her magic. Power came to her call, a dazzling golden-white brightness the Fey called shei’dalin’s love, a healing gift Ellysetta Baristani wielded with a strength the world had not seen since the dawn of the First Age.

Against her closed lids, the pulsating vibrancy of Fey vision replaced physical sight, darkness teeming with the glowing threads of energy that made up all life and substance. Her consciousness traveled down the blinding-bright conduits of her arms, into Aartys’s dying body, then sank deeper. Moving with swift purpose, she followed the threads of her healing weave and descended into the Well of Souls, the blackness that lay beyond and beneath the physical world, the home of demons and the unborn and the dead waiting for passage into their next life.

There, she could see the fading light of Aartys’s soul as he sank into the long, silent dark of the Well. When his light disappeared, he would be lost. Determined not to let that happen, she plunged after him, her presence a dazzling incandescence that lit the shadowy world of the Well like a golden-white sun.

**Aartys.** She wove Spirit, the mystic magic of thought and illusion, hoping to make him feel his mother’s grief and fill him with an urgent need to return to her. **Fight, Aartys. Fight to live.** Death, ultimately, was like drowning. Once the initial terror passed, the dying embraced the numbness and simply let themselves fall, like wrecked ships sinking to the bottom of the sea. **Do not surrender. Reach for my Light. Let me bring you back to your mother. She needs you. She will be lost without you.**

Her weave was strong, her command of Spirit as exceptional as her command of the potent healing magic of the Fey. Yet still he fell.

So tired, his fading spirit whispered. Tell Mam I …His voice trailed off and the pale light of his soul began to sputter.

**Aartys!** Ellysetta dove after him. The threads of her weave stretched to the breaking point as she followed him deep into the Well, deeper than any other healer dared to go, deeper than she should have gone without Rain to anchor her.

**Take my magic, kem’falla,** Gaelen said. **Use what you need, and quickly. You have been gone from yourself too long.**

**Aiyah.** She seized the magic Gaelen had offered for her use—the dark black threads of magic that throbbed with red sparks. Azrahn, the forbidden soul magic.

Ellysetta worked quickly, reluctant to put Gaelen at risk by making him hold his weave for more than a chime or two. Though Gaelen considered the chance to save Fey lives well worth the risk of wielding Azrahn, they both knew how dangerous the magic was. She plaited the cool, dark threads of his Azrahn into her flows of shei’dalin’s love, weaving the strands of icy shadow and warm, healing light together.

The new weave—amplified by her powers as well as Gaelen’s own—let her descend much farther into the Well. But as deep as she went, Aartys remained out of reach.

**Enough, kem’falla,** Gaelen said. **We’re out of time.**

**Just a little farther.**

**Nei. You’ve been gone from yourself too long. If you cannot save the boy now, you must let him go. Your life is too important to risk so needlessly.**

Anger bubbled up inside her. **Needlessly?**

**You know what I mean.**

**Every life is precious, Gaelen.** She’d held too many dying men in her arms, comforted too many stricken loved ones, seen her own mother beheaded by the Eld. She could not bear the thought of one more lost, wasted life—especially not this beautiful boy, whose bright eyes and sunny smile had reminded her of her own young sisters.

Nei, she could not—would not—lose another soul today. Not to magic, not to war, and not to the thrice-flamed Well of Souls!

Cold whispered through her veins. Azrahn surged up from the great, deep source inside her, summoned by her anger. An almost sentient eagerness pressed against her will, as if the Azrahn inside her wanted her to weave it, wanted her to embrace its dark, forbidden power.

For her, giving in to that temptation would come with a terrible price. She bore four Mage Marks, placed upon her by the High Mage of Eld, and each time she spun Azrahn, she risked receiving another one. Two more and her soul, her consciousness, her entire being, would be his to command.

Still, the lure was tremendous. Gaelen’s threads didn’t contain a fraction of the power her own did. She could weave just a little …just enough to save the boy. Perhaps she could even spin it quickly enough that the High Mage wouldn’t have time to sense it and Mark her again.

Yes …yes, just a little, and quickly. Such a small thing. Surely he would miss it.

The siren’s call whispered in her ear. Dimly, she heard someone say her name, as if calling from far away, but the voice was soon was silenced. Forbidden power throbbed in her veins, and all around her, the darkness of the Well of Souls pulsed to the same beat. Her ears filled with muted susurrations, a rhythmic ebbing and flowing, as if she were a child in the womb, listening to the blood rushing through her mother’s veins. The sound was hypnotic …entrancing….

She reached for her Azrahn, let its cold sweetness fill her.

**Ellysetta!** A furious and all-too-familiar voice roared her name. Power rushed into her body, and deep within the Well, her Light flared like an exploding sun.

The jolt sent her weave spearing wildly into the Well, so deep it passed the fading light that was Aartys’s soul. Stunned, she had just enough time and presence of mind to close her weave around Aartys and cling tight before her soul was yanked from the Well and slammed back into her own body.

The shining brilliance of Fey vision faded to darkness. The tranquillity of the Well gave way to a murmur of voices, muted screams of men in pain, the smells of blood and sweat and suffering. Her eyes fluttered as her senses gradually returned to her body.

She was clutched in a hot, hard, golden embrace, but neither that nor the blazing heat of two burning purple suns glaring down upon her could stop the icy shivers racking her frame. She blinked up into the achingly beautiful, utterly furious face of her truemate.

“Rain, I—”

His eyes flared tairen-bright. Pupils and whites disappeared, leaving only spark-filled whirls of lavender that glowed so bright they could have lit a dark room. “Do. Not. Speak.” His nostrils flared, and even the long, inky black strands of his hair crackled with scarcely contained energy. “Just …be silent.” He was so angry, his temper bordered on Rage, the wild, ferociously lethal fury of the Fey.

A choked sound snagged her attention. “Aartys!” she cried.

Powerful arms encased in heavy, golden, tairen-forged steel tightened their grip around her and held her fast. “Is alive and does not need your help.”

She turned her head, but she couldn’t see the boy. Scarlet-veiled shei’dalins surrounded the table where he lay, and the glow of concentrated healing magic shone so bright even mortal eyes could see it.

“Beylah sallan,” she breathed. Thank the gods.

That remark was the feather that broke the tairen’s back. Rain plunked her on her feet, gripped her arms, and gave her a shake strong enough to rattle her teeth. “Thank the gods? Thank the gods?” His Rage blazed so hot, flames nearly shot from his head. “Thank Gaelen for having the belated sense to call me when he realized what was happening.” He shook her again. “Idiot! Ninnywit! Reckless, rock-headed dim-skull! How many times are you going to put yourself in such danger?”

Her brows snapped together. “Me?” she shot back. “That’s a bit of the sword calling the dagger sharp, don’t you think?” She yanked herself out of his grasp and returned his glare with her own. “Do I berate you for all the risks you take in battle?”

He drew himself up to his full height, and with his golden war steel adding significant breadth to his already broad shoulders, he loomed over her. “Don’t try to turn this on me. I am the Defender of the Fey, and we are at war. It is my duty to lead our warriors in battle.”

“And I am a shei’dalin,” she retorted. “The most powerful healer we have. It is my duty to save every life I can!”

“Not at the risk of your own! You were about to weave Azrahn, Ellysetta! Despite the danger—despite your sworn oath never to weave it again unless we both agreed.”

The pain in his voice—even more than the frightening truth of his words—deflated her defensive ire. She had made a vow and nearly betrayed it—nearly betrayed him. Her shoulders slumped and she lifted a shaking hand to her face.

He was right, but before she could admit it and apologize, Jonna gave a short cry. Rain and Ellysetta both turned to the table where Aartys lay. The shei’dalins had extinguished their weaves and were already departing. The boy was sitting up, the gaping wound in his chest gone without a trace, even the dried blood and grime of war washed away by shei’dalin magic. His mother had her arms wrapped tight around him, and her shoulders heaved with sobs of relief and joy.

“Thank you.” Jonna wept, tears raining from her eyes. “Thank you for my son. Light’s blessings upon you!”

Ellysetta found Rain’s hand. He’d removed his gauntlets, and her fingers curled into the broad, warm strength of his.

His eyes flashed a warning at her, but to Jonna he offered only gentle understanding. “Sha vel’mei, Jonna,” he said, his voice a deep, rough velvet purr. “You are both welcome. And you, Aartys . . .” He leveled a stern look on the boy. “I do not want to see you on the battlefield again. Your sword is sharp and your soul is brave, but I need you most here, guarding your mother and the Feyreisa.” He clapped a hand on the child’s shoulder. “There is no more honorable duty for a warrior of the Fey than to protect our women. Do you accept this great honor?”

“You want me to help guard the Feyreisa?” The boy’s eyes went big as coins. He cast a dazed glance at Ellysetta before turning back to Rain. “Aye, my lord Feyreisen,” he agreed. “I do accept.”

“Kabei.” Good. “Then it is decided. Sers vel Jelani and vel Tibboreh”—he tilted his head towards two of the grim-eyed Fey posted at the corners of Ellysetta’s healing tent—“will explain your duties to you. For now, go with your mother and get some rest and a change of clothes.”

“But the Feyreisa—” Aartys began.

“—will not need your protection at the moment, as she will be coming with me.”

* * *

Eld ~ Boura Fell

Vadim Maur, the High Mage of Eld, shook off the flicker of awareness that had brushed across his senses and withdrew the part of his consciousness he’d sent into the Well. If the brief touch had been the girl, she was gone now, and the protections that barred him from her mind were firmly back in place. He could still sense her existence, but that was all.

“Master?” The timid, subservient voice near his left shoulder broke the silence. “What should I do with him?”

Vadim tightened his lips in irritation, then just as quickly relaxed the pressure when he felt the flesh split and warm liquid ooze down his shrouded chin. Wordless, he dabbed the edge of his deep purple hood against his mouth. His body had grown fragile these past weeks. The Rot had him firmly in its grip, and not even the ministrations of his powerful shei’dalin captives could hold it back any longer. Soon, the truth already suspected by most of his council would be impossible to hide.

His time was running out.

He gazed through the observation portal into the sel’dor cage with its wild-eyed inhabitant: a young man, the last of the four magically gifted infants to whom he’d tied the souls of unborn tairen seventeen years ago. The boy had shown full mastery in four of the five Fey magics, but only a middling level three in Spirit, so there’d never been any possibility of his becoming a Tairen Soul capable of summoning the Change. But his bloodlines were strong, and he’d proven quite adept at wielding Azrahn even in early childhood.

Vadim had been using him as a breeder, but recently, with the Rot advancing through Vadim’s flesh and Ellysetta Baristani still so stubbornly elusive, he had seriously considered using the boy as the vessel to house the next incarnation of his soul. At least as a stopgap until the much more powerful Ellysetta finally found her way back into his keeping.

That plan was scuttled now. The boy had gone mad, just like the thousands of others to whom Vadim had grafted tairens’ souls over the centuries. The madness usually began after adolescence, starting with voices only the afflicted could hear, then progressing to bouts of Rage, and finally complete savagery and destructive madness and death.

Of all the children to whom he’d bound the soul of a tairen, only Ellysetta had survived twenty-four years without a hint of insanity. That made her an invaluable prize, not only as a powerful vessel to hold Vadim’s incarnated soul, but as the key to his long centuries of experimentation. .

In the cell, the boy put his hands to his head. Shrieking unintelligible gibberish, he pulled great tufts of hair out by the roots and spun around the room, slamming his body against the wall and ripping at his own flesh.

Vadim’s fingers curled in a fist. “Restrain him before he damages himself more. Continue to breed him as long as you can.” Too many centuries had gone into the crossbreeding of magical bloodlines to throw the boy away without squeezing as much benefit from his existence as possible. “If he endangers the females, send him to Fezai Madia.” The leader of the Feraz witches had been complaining lately over the quality of the slaves he’d been sending for her sacrifices to the demon-god Gamorraz. Insane this boy might be, but there was no denying the strong magic in his blood.

Leaving the observation room, he passed through the nursery and paused to glance into the two cradles resting against the wall. Two infants with bright, shining eyes stared up at him. Both boys, both already showing promise of mastering all Fey magics. Each had the soul of an unborn tairen grafted to his own. Would they go mad, too? Or had Vadim finally discovered the secret to successfully breeding Tairen Souls of his own?

Only time would tell. For now, they represented another generation of possibility, another opportunity to succeed in case Ellysetta Baristani continued to elude him …

…or in case she fell prey to the same lethal insanity as her predecessors.

* * *

Celieria ~ Orest

“Where are we going?” Ellysetta asked as Rain dragged her away from the healing tents. Her quintet had started to follow, but one hot look from Rain had stopped them in their tracks.

“Someplace I can keep you out of trouble.”

There was still a snap in his voice, so she offered a small peace offering. “You were good with Aartys.”

He gave her a withering look, and her olive branch went quietly up in flames. “Do not attempt to soothe this tairen, shei’tani. You nearly died—or worse—and I will not overlook that.”

She bit her lip. He was right. She’d gone too far into the Well, and something had been quite successfully pushing her to use her most dangerous magic. Still …this double standard her truemate imposed on her had gone on long enough.

“Why do you get to be angry, and I do not?”

He glared. “What do you have to be angry about?”

She stopped stock-still and yanked her hand from his grip. “Are you serious? I’m your shei’tani—your truemate—and you can actually ask me that?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “How many times have you barely made it back to Orest alive? How many times have you crashed into Veil Lake, bloody and half-dead, limbs broken, flesh shredded, enough sel’dor arrows in you to supply an entire company of archers? Yet you expect me to patch you up and send you back to battle time and time again. You and every other warrior who ends up on my table.”

“You are a shei’dalin. That is what shei’dalins do.”

“Precisely! You fight out there.” She jabbed a finger towards the scorched and still-smoking southwest corner of Eld. “Well, that is my battlefield.” She turned and jabbed her finger back at the healing tents. “And I’m every bit as determined to win my war as you. If that means I occasionally have to take risks—just like you do—then, by the gods, that’s exactly what I’ll do!”

“Over. My. Rotting. Corpse.” His teeth snapped together with an audible click. He grabbed her wrist again and put on a burst of speed that forced her to jog to keep up with him.

The collection of bloodsworn black Fey’cha daggers strapped across her chest and around her hips slapped against her steel-embroidered scarlet robes as she ran, and the feeling of being a chastised child dragged along beind an irate parent only chafed her more.

“You’re being unfair!” she exclaimed. “I may not have my wings yet, but I’m a Tairen Soul, too, Rain. I feel the same need to defend our people as you do. Just because the only enemy I can defend them against at the moment is death, that doesn’t mean my efforts are any less vital than yours!”

His eyes glowed so bright they nearly shot purple sparks. “Have I ever suggested they were? Have I not let Gaelen weave the forbidden magic for your use so you could save lives that would otherwise be lost? I do not object to your saving lives. But I will not allow you to risk your own in the process!”

“But—”

“Enough!” he thundered. “You don’t have to like it, Ellysetta, but I am the Feyreisen—both your truemate and your king—and on this matter, I will be obeyed!”

Ahead lay the open plaza near Veil Lake that Rain and the tairen used for launching and landing. Four majestic winged cats, each the size of a house, crouched on the manicured grass at the lakeshore. Their heads were extended as they lapped at the cold waters fed from Kiyera’s Veil, the gauntlet of three-hundred-foot waterfalls that tumbled down from opposing mountainsides at the lake’s western shore.

When they reached the plaza, Rain slowed his pace. Ellysetta yanked her wrist from his grip a second time, marched to the mossy edge of the bricked space, and presented him her back. She pressed her lips in a thin line, angry at his high-handedness. For a woman who’d spent the first twenty-four years of her life as the shy, obedient daughter of a poor woodcarver and his wife, Ellysetta had become mulishly resistant to Voices of Authority. Even when those voices belonged to kings, wedded husbands, and beloved truemates. If Mama were still alive, she would shake her head in despair of her adopted daughter’s willful ways.

By the lakeshore, the largest of the tairen, a great white beauty with eyes like glowing blue jewels, lifted her snowy, feline head and turned to pad towards them. Her long tail slapped against several tree trunks as she walked, bringing a shower of leaves raining down in her wake. When she reached the plaza, she spread her wide, clawed wings and reared up on her hind legs to shake the debris from her fur. A deep, throaty purr rumbled in her chest, and she tilted her head down to pin Ellysetta with a whirling, pupillesss blue gaze.

**You worried your mate, kitling,** admonished Steli, chakai of the Fey’Bahren pride. The musical tones of the tairen’s speech danced in the air like flashes of silver and gold and carried with them feelings of panicked fear and images of Rain whirling in the sky and rocketing towards Upper Orest. **You should not alarm him so. Tairen frightened for their mates are dangerous—especially to beings as breakable as mortals.**

“Not you, too, Steli!” Ellysetta crossed her arms, feeling immensely put out. “You think I’m not afraid when he’s out there getting maimed by arrows and bowcannon?”

Steli’s ears flicked and her tail lashed the earth. **Ellysetta-kitling would not scorch the world. Rainier-Eras already has. Without you to anchor him, he would again.**

That simple, inescapable truth deflated Ellysetta’s temper as nothing else could. A thousand years ago, after the death of his first mate, Sariel, Rain Tairen Soul had scorched the world in the blaze of tairen flame, killing thousands in mere instants, millions in a handful of days. He’d paid for that act of Rage with seven hundred years of madness and another three centuries spent battling his way back from the abyss.

**Rainier-Eras is proud,** Steli continued, **and he does not wish to frighten his mate. He does not tell Ellysetta-kitling that each day becomes harder. That each battle weakens what took him so long to rebuild.**

Ellysetta cast a troubled gaze over her shoulder. Rain stood a short distance away, shoulders hunched, pinching the bridge of his nose as he expended visible effort to calm himself. She’d frightened him badly, and his control hung in tatters. Untruemated Fey warriors absorbed the torment of every life they took—the pain, the darkness, the sorrow of lost dreams hanging like burning stones around their necks—and Rain bore the weight of millions on his soul. Mental and emotional discipline was the only thing standing between him and insanity, and her nearly fatal trip into the Well had stripped those protections threadbare. Shame washed over her.

The tairen bent her head and nudged Ellysetta. **Go to your mate, kitling. He needs you. Now more than ever.**

Ellysetta crossed the short distance to Rain’s side. Moss grew green and thick along the edges of the plaza’s mist-dampened bricks. Winter would be upon them soon, and the spray off the Veil would turn to flurries of ice crystals. The nights would grow longer, the Eld Mages more powerful. Despite the brave efforts of Lord Teleos’s soldiers, Celieria stood no chance of surviving the winter as a free land without the help of the Fey. The might of the tairen was the only power Mages truly feared.

Until Ellysetta found her wings, Rain was the only living Tairen Soul capable of Changing to his tairen form and leading the pride into battle. As such, he would have to fight—again and again and again—and the torment of his soul would grow more unbearable with each engagement. Ellysetta hadn’t been thinking about that when she’d made her decision to save Aartys. She hadn’t been thinking about Rain at all.

“I’m sorry, shei’tan,” she apologized sincerely. “I should have been more careful—for your sake if not my own.”

“That’s what you always say,” he replied in a low voice, “but it never stops you from doing what you know you should not.”

She rubbed her forehead, where a headache had begun to throb. “I never meant to go so deep into the Well, but he was a child, Rain. Not much older than Lillis and Lorelle. I couldn’t let him die. Can’t you understand that?”

He sighed. “I do understand, shei’tani. Better than you think.” He turned to face her. “But saving that boy or even a thousand more like him won’t bring Lillis and Lorelle back.” He crossed to her side and took her shoulders in a firm grip. “You’ve got to stop risking yourself this way, Ellysetta. You’re no good to your sisters, or your father, or anyone else for that matter, if you’re dead or lose your soul to the Mages.”

“I know that. I do. It’s just that—” Her voice broke off. She could feel his fear, his love, his guilt for bringing her into the dangers of a Tairen Soul’s life, his terror that he might not be strong enough to hold himself in check the next time she came so close to death.

“Oh, Rain.” She leaned against him, resting her forehead against the unforgiving golden steel of his tairen-forged war armor and laying the palm of one hand against the smooth warmth of his jaw. Though they could not read each other’s thoughts until their bond was complete, they could, when they touched skin-to-skin, feel each other’s emotions as clear as day.

Because he was the strongest of the Fey, the most powerful Tairen Soul in living memory, it was so easy to forget how fragile he truly was, how narrow the band that kept him from plunging into madness.

**Sieks’ta, shei’tan.** I’m sorry, beloved. She wove the apology into his mind on a thread of Spirit, not reading his thoughts, but offering him one of hers. With her hand against his face, her skin touching his, she knew he could sense her sincerity and the great love she bore him just as she sensed his agitation drain away, replaced by regret and weariness.

He turned his lips into her palm and pressed a kiss there. “As am I,” he said. “I know my fear for you is a burden, and it shames me that you must bear it. You are a Tairen Soul, which means you are fierce, born to fight and to defend those in your care; but you are also my shei’tani. I thought I would be strong enough to let you embrace the warrior’s side of your nature. I know now I’m not. I cannot allow you to be harmed—not even by your own actions.”

Ellysetta forced a small smile. “Perhaps when our bond is complete, things will be different.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed without conviction.

Steli’s wings flapped. The white tairen nudged them with her nose. **Time to fly, Rainier-Eras. The day grows late.**

“Aiyah.”

“Where are we going?” Ellysetta asked.

“Crystal Lake,” he admitted.

“The Source in the mountains? But that’s bells away—” She broke off and her brows drew together in concern. Every great city in the Fading Lands had a Source at its center, and the Fey drank the water of those Sources to bolster their strength and replenish flagging magical energies. The only Source that existed outside the Fading Lands was Crystal Lake, and its magic-infused waters fed one of the tributaries that flowed into Kiyera’s Veil and the Heras River.

If the diluted Source waters of the Veil were no longer powerful enough to replenish Rain’s magic or rejuvenate his strength . . .

“It’s more precaution than need,” Rain reassured her, reading her expression. Fey didn’t lie, which meant he was telling the truth—or at least a version of it. “Besides, how long has it been since we’ve managed to do more than snatch a few bells’ sleep together? I thought you might like some time away from the battlefield and the healing tents.”

“I would.” The other shei’dalins slipped back through the Mists every few days to restore themselves in the peace of the Fading Lands. Banished and Mage Marked as she was, Ellysetta didn’t have that luxury. “I suppose we could both use a visit to the Source,” she said, stepping back to give Rain room for the Change.

He waited for her to get clear before closing his eyes and summoning his magic. Flows of power gathered and swirled around him, darkening to a gray mist that sparkled with rainbow lights. The crackling energy of his magic poured over Ellysetta in hot, electric waves. She gasped and closed her eyes on a shudder of shared pleasure as Rain’s Fey body was unmade—his flesh and consciousness flung out into the mist of the Change—then re-formed in a staggering rush into the great, sleek body of his tairen self.

When the magic of the Change cleared, Rain Tairen Soul crouched where Rain the Fey had stood: a magnificent, kingly creature, like one of the sleek black jungle cats Ellysetta had seen in illustrated books of faraway lands, except that a tairen stood easily half as high as a fully grown fireoak, and great, batlike wings sprouted from his back. Even by tairen standards, Rain was an impressive male, with fur a glossy, unrelieved midnight black, a vast wingspan, and radiant, pupillesss eyes that glowed like lavender suns.

He lowered his head to pin Ellysetta with that bright, whirling gaze and rumbled a throaty purr. Her body clenched like a fist, every nerve abruptly sizzling with a rush of pure, primitive heat. She might not yet have found her wings, but the tairen in her soul recognized its mate—and yearned for him with staggering force.

She wet her lips and tried to compose herself while Rain purred deep in his throat and nosed her with unmistakable interest. “Stop that.” She laughed, giving him a shove. She summoned an Earth weave that transformed her gown into steel-studded scarlet leathers, with Fey’cha belts crossed over her chest and her quintet’s daggers sheathed in the belt slung around her hips. A subsequent weave summoned a burst of powerful silvery Air magic that lifted her body up and deposited her into the cradle of the leather saddle that Rain wove for her on his back. She anchored herself in place with the saddle’s leather straps. “I’m ready.”

**Then spin the weave, shei’tani. Around Steli as well as us.**

Ellysetta nodded and reached once more into the well of power that lay within her. Lavender Spirit, the mystic magic of consciousness, thought, and illusion, surged up in a rush and she wove the dense threads of energy in a pattern Gaelen vel Serranis had taught the Fey only a few months ago. She flung the weave out like a net, first around Steli—who promptly winked out of sight—then around herself and Rain, rendering them invisible to both mortal and magic eyes.

The other tairen had left the waters of Veil Lake and padded over to the plaza. They leapt into the air seconds before Rain crouched down on his haunches and sprang skyward, and their presence provided cover for the rush of wind that might have betrayed Rain and Steli’s otherwise invisible launch.

Ringed by the pride and sheathed by invisibility, Rain, Ellysetta, and Steli soared high over the Rhakis mountaintops into the thin, crisp chill of the autumn sky. A dusting of snow capped the high, jagged peaks to the north. Below, just across the Heras River, the southwest corner of Eld still smoldered from the fiery aftermath of the recent battle. What had two weeks ago been a fortified village was now a scorched plain, razed to the ground, every living and dead thing in a twenty-mile radius reduced to ash. Yet still, the Eld came to battle the legions of Orest with relentless determination, wearing them down bit by bit, retreating back into the dense forests of Eld, where, thanks to the batteries of bowcannon trained on the skies, not even the tairen could follow.

To the west, the billowing wall of mist that marked the borders of the Fading Lands rose up from the mountaintops. Rain flew close enough that Ellysetta could feel the tingle of magic from the Mists, and her fingers tightened on the pommel.

From the valley floor, the Mists looked like a line of thunderclouds hugging the crests of the Rhakis mountains. From the sky, however, they looked more beautiful than foreboding, like a radiant veil of shifting rainbows that stretched upward as far as the eye could see.

Ominous thunderheads or shimmering veil, Ellysetta recognized the Faering Mists for what they truly were: a deadly magical barrier meant to keep the enemies of the Fey from entering the Fading Lands.

It was true that many an innocent shepherd had wandered by accident into the Mists, only to emerge again, decades later, unharmed, not aged a day, carrying tales of being feted by the Fair Folk in misty forest palaces. To the not-so-innocent, the Mists were far less kind. Entire armies had been swallowed up, never to be seen again.

Ellysetta’s body tensed with remembered pain. She knew, firsthand, the torments that lay within those shifting clouds. Thanks to the four Mage Marks she bore, the Mists were now more dangerous to her than the Well of Souls, and the last time she’d entered, she’d very nearly not made it back out again alive.

If it were otherwise, she would not be here in Orest, weaving her magic to save lives. She would be in the Mists, searching every gods-cursed fingerspan of the magical barrier, tearing it apart thread by scorching thread if she had to.

Because somewhere in that veil of shifting mist, the last members of her family had been trapped; and she could not reach them …or even tell if they were still alive.

* * *

The Faering Mists

“Lorelle! Papa! Can you hear me? Where are you?” Lillis Baristani’s voice was hoarse from shouting, and the ocean of tears she’d shed had left her eyes swollen and burning.

She turned in circles and squinted in a vain effort to pierce the suffocating veil of shifting whiteness around her. She’d been in the Mists a long time—bells, certainly, maybe even a day or more, though it was hard to tell time when the vapor was eternally lit by its own magical glow. In any event, she’d not seen or heard another living being since the moment the mountain had shuddered like a wild, angry beast and she’d lost her footing and fallen back into the Faering Mists.

Never in all her life had she been so alone. Always, someone had been with her: her twin, Lorelle, or Mama or Papa or Ellie.

Alone was frightening. Almost more frightening than the terrible, monstrous darrokken or the evil Eld soldiers that had attacked Teleon. Almost more frightening than even the sight of Kieran screaming as he disappeared beneath an avalanche of dirt, rock, and toppling trees.

“Kieran?” she cried. “Kiel? Anybody?”

There was still no answer.

Lillis blinked back tears and clutched her small kitten to her chest. “They’re not coming, Snowfoot. I don’t think anyone’s coming.” In the sling tied around her neck, her black-and-white kitten mewed and squirmed and sank its tiny sharp claws into the wool jacket covering Lillis’s pinafore.

Papa had always told Lillis, “If ever you get lost, kitling, stay right where you are. Your mama and I will come to find you.” But Mama was dead—killed by the same evil people who had attacked Teleon—and Lillis had waited long enough in the white blindness of the Mists to know that either no one was still alive to find her or they were looking in the wrong place.

Either way, she couldn’t stay here.

She stroked Snowfoot’s soft fur and hummed a little song Ellie had always sung to Lillis and Lorelle when they were frightened or upset. The tune didn’t soothe Lillis like it did when Ellie sang it, but Snowfoot stopped his anxious mewing.

“I’ll bet you’re getting hungry and thirsty, aren’t you?” Lillis murmured to the kitten. “I know I am.” She wrapped her thin arms around the tiny feline, cuddling it closer and pressing her face to the soft fur at the top of its head. “Come on, Snowfoot,” she said. “Let’s go find Papa and Lorelle.”

Sometimes it amazes me the villains authors are able to write. I laugh and ask where they get their inspiration, how deep they have to dig. I mean, sometimes it’s spooky how evil these characters can be.

The High Mage of Eld is one of those villains. He’s taken centuries to hatch his plans, to gather an army darker than anything that’s ever been seen, to finally put his plans into motion, when and where to strike. This guy makes the devil look like a boy scout.

One of the best things in these books is when Rain takes flight in his Tairen form. Whether it’s in anger needing to fly it off or to impress Ellie or in battle, Ms. Wilson’s descriptions of him are simply breathtaking. I want a tairen of my own!

Please read my review of King of Sword and Sky and the excerpt following.

Sandy M’s review of King of Sword and Sky (Tairen Soul Series, Book 3) by C.L. Wilson
Fantasy Paranormal Romance published by Leisure 30 Sep 08

If you have not read this series of C.W. Wilson’s, you are missing out on some so spectacularly special. Ms. Wilson weaves her brand of magic in the pages of this beautiful fantasy world of the Fading Lands where the Fey and the tairen live. Her characters of full of honor and dignity, heart and passion, and, of course, love. The villainy she etches into her evil characters only causes you to root for the good of her hero and heroine to triumph. And her imagination is simply amazing. You just have to read this series!

In this book we finally get to the Fading Lands. We’ve been reading about them and waiting for them since the first book. But even before that we have to endure the Faering Mist with Rain, King of the Fey and the Tairen Soul, and Ellysetta, his truemate, daughter of a wood carver. The Mist is a barrier around the Fading Lands to keep all within its borders safe from evil, especially the Mages of Eld, who are on the rise once again after being vanquished in the Mage Wars a thousand years ago.

Their entourage makes it through the Mist relatively unscathed — it’s Rain and Ellie who are delayed by their past that the Mist throws in their path, doubling their fears and vulnerabilities. Coming together, however, they fight their way through so that Rain can ready his men for the war that is sure to break out with Eld and Ellie can begin her search for answers to save the tairen.

See the remainder of my King of Sword and Sky review here.

Prologue

Eld ~ Boura Fell

“Two Primages and sixty of my Black Guard slaughtered, and yet somehow the pair of you survived. While my prize escaped.”

In the lowest levels of Boura Fell, the subterranean fortress buried deep beneath the dark-forested heart of Eld, High Mage Vadim Maur paced the sel’dor-veined floor of a small, sconce-lit cell. Before him, two battered and bruised men sat chained to a pair of black metal chairs. One wore the blood-and-filth grimed remnants of an exorcist’s scarlet robes. The other wore shredded and stained crimson rags that had once been the silken garb of a Sulimage, a journeyman practitioner of the vast and ancient arts of Magecraft.

Vadim Maur’s pacing came to an abrupt halt. Luxuriant purple robes swirled about his spare form. Long, bone-white hair slid across his shoulders, accentuating the pallor of a face that had not seen sunlight in a thousand years. One beringed hand shot out. Thin, cadaverous fingers closed around the swollen jaw of Kolis Manza, Eld’s most famous and esteemed Sulimage, who had until only a few days ago served his master Vadim Maur’s bidding in Celieria City.

Now, the Sulimage’s sash had been stripped of its jewels of achievement, and the shredded, honor-bare swath of cloth had been tied around the man’s throat to mock his once-proud status as the High Mage’s most accomplished and magically gifted apprentice.

“Capture her,” Vadim hissed. “Bring her to me. That was my command.” Long, ridged nails dug deep into the Sulimage’s skin. “Yet you returned empty handed.”

“She was too powerful,” Kolis protested weakly. “Not even the Primages could stand against her.”

“Powerful?” Silver eyes snapped with fury, and white frost formed on every surface as the room’s temperature plunged in sharp response. “Of course she was powerful! She is the crowning achievement of my last thousand years of work! The Tairen Soul I created! My greatest triumph—and you let her slip through your fingers!”

“What more could I have done, master? The Fey broke through our defenses.” The Sulimage coughed, then groaned as his broken ribs protested. “I tried to hold them off, to give the others time to get her into the Well, but then she… her magic…just exploded. She surprised us all.”

“Silence!” Vadim’s free hand shot out with vicious force. Despite the High Mage’s great age and increasingly frail appearance, his fist smashed hard against his apprentice’s face. The heavy rings of power decorating each of his fingers amplified the force of his blow, and the crack of bone and the crunch of breaking cartilage echoed off the stone walls of the chamber. Blood sprayed from Kolis’s mouth and nose. A groaning breath wheezed out of his lungs, and he slumped senseless in his bonds.

Vadim turned to the man in the ragged exorcist’s robes and whipped a wavy-edged Mage blade from the sheath strapped to his waist. He snatched a handful of greasy brown hair and yanked hard, pulling back the prisoner’s head and exposing his throat to the dagger’s razor-sharp edge.

Pale blue eyes, surrounded by stubby black lashes, looked up at him in mute fear. Fresh blood trickled from both nostrils and the corners of the man’s mouth, and vicious purpling bruises swelled on skin still mottled from earlier beatings. A pulse beat like a trapped sparrow in the man’s throat, and his barrel chest rose and fell with short, rapid breaths.

The prisoner swallowed convulsively, and the skin of his neck pressed against the razor-sharp edge of the Mage blade. Even that light touch tore a fresh slice in the captive’s skin. No blood trickled from the wound. The dagger’s thirsty black metal drank every drop before it spilled, and the dark cabochon stone in the blade’s pommel began to flicker with ravenous red lights. The man froze in breathless silence.

Vadim’s mouth twisted in a snarl. “And you, butcher’s boy. Did you seriously think for even the tiniest instant that your miserable, insignificant mortal life held any value to me except as a means to capture Ellysetta Baristani?” Vadim leaned forward, letting his silver eyes turn to dark, bottomless wells of blackness sparkling with red lights as Azrahn, the sweet, powerful magic of the Mages, gathered within him.

Den Brodson, son of a Celierian butcher and former betrothed of Ellysetta Baristani, stared up into those twin pits of blackness and knew he was staring death in the face. He’d seen death before, a few days ago in the Grand Cathedral of Light, when Rain Tairen Soul had pulled a Fey blade from its sheath and smiled into Den’s eyes.

Then, Den had turned and leaped into the Well of Souls to escape. Now, gods help him, he had nowhere to go.

The white-haired High Mage leaned closer still. “Your only value to me now is what small service the Guardians of the Well will offer in return for the delivery of your rotting corpse as a sacrifice.”

A mewling whimper broke from Den’s bloodied mouth. He’d seen the Guardian’s handiwork…seen what they did to the dead and dying. As long as he lived, he’d never forget the high-pitched, animal screams of Eld soldiers being eaten alive when fresh blood seeped through their bandages and drew the hunger-maddened demons like wounded creatures drew thistlewolves.

Gods, he didn’t want to die that way. “Please…”

Black eyes sparked with a sudden flare of malevolent red. The High Mage put a hand over Den’s chest, directly over his heart, the fingers curved like claws so that only the fingertips touched. All five, pointed nails gouged into the skin as if the Mage intended to bore through Den’s chest bones and rip out his heart. The black eyes whirled. The skin where the pallid hand touched grew cold.

“No, wait! Wait!” Panicked, Den shoved his feet against the cell floor and scooted his chair back, retreating from the icy hand. The leg of his chair caught on an uneven stone and with a choked wail, he toppled over backwards.

Pain exploded in his skull as his head cracked against the stones. His hands, shackled at the wrists, scraped hard against their metal bonds. The sudden jolt shook his entire body, and a long, narrow parcel of wadded cloth fell out of his robe’s deep pocket to land beside him.

The pair of pale, hulking guards standing near the door strode forward to grab Den’s chair and haul it—and him—back upright. One guard kicked the small parcel, and sent it skittering across the floor. The fabric unwrapped as it went, and a handful of long, crystal-topped needles spilled out, chiming an absurdly cheerful series of tinkling notes as they rolled across the stone floor.

The High Mage went still. His eyes narrowed and lightened from nightmarish black to a slightly less terrifying shade of cold, glittering silver. Sheathing his dagger, the Mage pointed to the scattered exorcism needles. “Bring those to me,” he commanded.

Both guards rushed to obey, gathering up the fallen needles and bringing them back to their master. The Mage examined them closely. Most of the dark crystals topping the needles were dark, but several sparkled with ruby lights.

His jaw clenched. He spun around, grabbed Den’s chin in a fierce grip and shook him, making stars whirl across Den’s vision. “These crystals have tasted blood,” the Mage hissed. “Whose flesh did the needles pierce, mortal? Yours? Or someone else’s?”

Den swallowed the acrid bile rising in his throat. “Ellie Baristani,” he groaned. “She pulled them out to stop us from taking her into the Well.”

The High Mage released Den and straightened. He lifted the needles to his nose and inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered closed. When he opened them again, the Mage smiled.

“Well, mortal, it seems you will keep your miserable life another day, after all.” He untied the sash from around his waist and wrapped the needles in it carefully, then deposited the small bundle in his own deep pocket. “I do not punish those who please me, and this gift is pleasing indeed.”

The shallow, relieved breath had barely left Den’s lungs before his chest constricted on a new surge of panic when the High Mage lunged and his bony hand closed round Den’s throat.

“Today is my gift to you,” the Mage hissed. “But for life after daybreak tomorrow, there is a price, mortal.” He lifted the Mage blade, twisting the black, razored edge so the light of the sconces made shadows dance across the dark metal. “Accept my Mark. Willingly bind your soul to my service. Or when the Great Sun rises, you will die a death more hideous than any you can imagine.”

Den whimpered.

The Mage smiled, pressed the point of his dagger to Den’s wrist and sliced. Blood welled from the cut and slid down Den’s arm like scarlet teardrops. The Mage lifted the wrist to his lips. Den flinched as a pale tongue flicked out, tasting his blood. “Answer me, boy. Surrender your soul or die. The choice is yours.”

Den’s hand shook. His entire body trembled. How had this happened? How had his plans gone so awry?

The Mage’s grip tightened, pointed nails digging into the soft skin of Den’s inner wrist. “Speak, mortal! Do you accept my Mark? Of your own free will, do you bind your soul to my service?”

Den’s dreams of living in luxury in some remote part of the world, growing fat on the profits of Ellie Baristani’s magic, shattered like broken glass. There would be no palatial estate. No soft-skinned, buxom serving wenches to tend his every need. No lords lining up to seek his favor. There would be no Ellie Baristani on her knees before him, kissing his feet and begging for his forgiveness, whoring herself to please him.

His eyes closed. His shoulders heaved with helpless, silent sobs.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Yes, master,” the Mage’s hissing voice corrected.

“Yes, master.” Tears gathered in Den’s throat and burned at the back of his eyes.

“Then say it. ‘Of my own free will, I accept your Mark and bind my soul to your eternal service.’”

Den heard himself, weeping brokenly, repeating the damning words. Hot tears ran down his frozen cheeks. The cold press of the Mage’s mouth clamped against his wrist and pulled sickeningly as the Mage sucked Den’s blood from the sliced vein. Then came the colder press of that taloned hand gripping the skin above his heart. A sickly sweet aroma filled the air, overpowering, like barrels of rotting fruit. Pure, frigid ice, sharp as a knife, plunged deep into his chest. A will, heavy as stone, pressed down upon his.

He was in a black river, gasping for breath and fighting desperately to stay afloat, while a heavy weight slowly and relentlessly dragged him down. His head bobbed under. The thick, black, oily liquid of the river—so cold, so horribly sweet—enveloped him. His lungs burned as the air in them ran out and the need to breathe became overpowering. He fought, struggled, tried to kick his way to the surface, but the weight anchored him down, dragging him deeper and deeper.

His world was total darkness. No light. No hope. No hint of warmth. His lungs were on fire. If he breathed he would drown. If he didn’t breathe, he would die.

His mouth opened on a deep, desperate, despairing gasp. Oily blackness flooded in, filling his lungs, filling him.

With one last, choking, weeping cry for his lost life, Den Brodson surrendered.

Chapter One

Celieria ~ The Garreval

Seven days after departing Celieria City, the Fey reached the end of the mortal world. As the small caravan of wagons and loping Fey crested the top of a last, rolling hill, Ellysetta’s breath caught in her throat. A great fertile plain stretched out below, miles of land sectioned into hedgerow-partitioned fields, all greening with well tended crops against a dramatic backdrop of majestic mountains thrusting up from the earth like a solid wall.

“Oh, Papa,” Ellysetta breathed.

“’Tis the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” Sol Baristani agreed in a whisper as he sat beside his daughter on the wagon seat, a lit match held, forgotten, over the tobacco-filled bowl of his favorite pipe.

Together, father and daughter stared in awestruck wonder at the majestic peaks filling the horizon.

At first glance, the mountains almost appeared to be a single range but Ellysetta knew from the countless histories she’d read that they were actually two separate mountain ranges. The fierce Rhakis arrowed down from the north, nearly colliding with the stately swells of the Silvermist range. Only a scant mile separated the two, an infamous pass known as the Garreval, gateway to the Fading Lands.

Misty clouds swirled across forested cliffs and steep highland pastures of the Silvermist mountains. The clouds hovering over the Rhakis were less gentle, dark with rain and boiling into lightning-shot thunderheads as the sharp peaks continued northward towards Eld. Those soft clouds and fierce storms merged into a dense, shimmering fog that filled the pass between the two ranges, and Ellysetta gave a small shiver at the sight.

The Faering Mists. The magical barrier that surrounded the Fading Lands, impenetrable to all but the Fey.

The match Sol held over the tobacco-filled bowl of his pipe burned down unnoticed until the heat scorched his fingers. “Sweet brightness!” he yelped. Hissing, he shook the match out, tossed the scorched remains over the edge of the wagon, and blew on his stinging fingers.

Ellie turned, trying to stifle her laughter as she reached for his hand. This wasn’t the first time her father had seared his hands on a matchstick. It wouldn’t be the last. His attention was too easily caught by some real or imagined beauty—often while he held a lit match in his hand, thanks to his fondness for his pipe.

“I’m all right, Ellie-girl,” Sol protested when she took his hand.

“I know, Papa, but Marissya says I should practice whenever I get the opportunity.” She held her father’s hand in hers and focused on the reddened flesh, trying to block out the flood of thoughts and emotions that poured into her mind when she touched his skin.

Love. Worry. Instinctive fear, tinged with guilt. He still wasn’t comfortable with the shining brightness and palpable magic of the beautiful stranger sitting beside him.

Ellie forced back the stab of pain his fear caused and tried to focus her thoughts the way Marissya v’En Solande, the Fey’s most powerful healer had shown her. Throughout the week-long westward journey across Celieria, Marissya had spent several bells each day with Ellysetta, teaching her how to wield her own powerful healing magic.

Though Ellysetta still had much to learn, she now understood on a conscious level the basic patterns of the healing weaves she’d been unconsciously spinning all her life. Marissya assured her she’d soon be able to summon and spin those weaves on demand, using only the amount of power needed to weave them, but restraint was something Ellie still had difficulty mastering. The powerful, hidden barriers that had kept her magic bottled up were gone now, and the weaves she’d once spun with such subtlety now surged forth at her call like a river gushing through a shattered dam.

Remembering Marissya’s admonitions, Ellysetta reached down into the well of energy at her center, carefully calling forth the glowing threads of power she would need. Red Fire to draw the heat from the wound. Green Earth to heal the damaged flesh. Lavender Spirit to steal away the pain. And something else Ellysetta had discovered while observing Marissya during their lessons. A special, golden something that Marissya called a shei’dalin’s love, the mysterious force that was unique to Fey women. It made all the threads of the shei’dalin’s weave shimmer with a warm, golden cast. No Fey warrior could spin his magic the same way.

“It springs from the compassion and empathy of a Fey woman’s heart,” Marissya had told her. “It isn’t a seventh branch of magic. We cannot separate it out and weave the shei’dalin’s love by itself. It’s just the natural way Fey women weave magic.”

“And do I weave shei’dalin’s love the same way?”

At that, Marissya had laughed. “Feyreisa, you do nothing the same as other Fey.” Then, still smiling, she’d added, “I’m sure you must, Ellysetta, but when you weave, your magic is so bright, its power blinds me.”

Now, holding Papa’s hand in hers, she attempted to summon her magic and wield it with control and restraint, as Marissya had been trying to teach her.

She found the threads, wove them in a loose healing pattern, and with a gentle “push” of power, sent the weave into her father’s hand. The push slammed out of her with the force of a hammer strike, her weave flaring with blinding brightness.

The startled jerk of Papa’s body and sudden widening of his eyes made her grimace in dismay.

“Light save me,” she muttered under her breath. Then, in a louder voice, she said, “Are you all right, Papa?”

Sol blinked several times and took cautious inventory of himself. When he didn’t find any missing—or extra—appendages, he gave a smile. “Well done, Ellie-girl. The finger’s good as new.” He held up his hand to show her.

Sure enough, the angry red burn on the tip of his finger was gone. But that wasn’t the problem. She watched her father run his newly healed hand through his hair. His hand stopped in mid-motion.

“Oh,” he said. Sol Baristani was of the age when many mortal men began “thinning the forest” as Papa put it. Or, rather, he had been. Keeping his gaze fixed on her face, he patted the newly thickened growth of hair crowning his scalp. “Well…er… that’s not so bad. Provided it’s not some frightful shade of green.” His brows drew together in mock concern, and he added in a hesitant, rather fearful tone, “Er…it’s not green, is it, Ellie?”

Ellie sighed. “No, Papa, it’s not green.”

With a twinkle in his eye, he pretended relief. “Well then, there you go.” He laughed and grinned, and reached across to pat her hand. “You did good, Ellie-girl. You may have overdone the weave a little, but the finger’s healed. Besides, what man wouldn’t like a little more hair when his own starts to go missing, eh?” Thrusting his pipe stem back between his teeth, he lit a fresh match and held it to the bowl, puffing until the shreds of tobacco began to glow orange and puffs of fragrant smoke wreathed his newly regenerated headful of hair…and a face that had lost at least ten years of age in an instant.

She forced a smile. “Beylah vo, Papa.” Weaving youth on mortals wasn’t one of the things Marissya had taught her—but apparently the patterns were very similar to regular healing.

A happy shriek sounded at Ellysetta’s right. The Fey warrior, Kiel vel Tomar, his long silvery-blond hair woven into a plait, ran past with Ellysetta’s nine-year-old sister Lorelle perched on his shoulders. Kieran vel Solande, Marissya’s son, followed a few paces behind. Lorelle’s twin, Lillis, sat on Kieran’s shoulders and kicked his chest with her heels as if he were one of the Elvish ba’houda horses pulling the wagons in their caravan. Her small fingers clutched tufts of his thick, wavy brown hair.

Lillis and Lorelle were clad in miniature versions of Marissya and Ellie’s brown traveling leathers, which they had insisted Kieran weave for them. Kieran and Kiel had done their best to keep the children’s minds off the grief of Mama’s death by making each day of the trip a new adventure. The twins had taken to the idea, enthusiastically using even the briefest stops as an excuse to explore—always under watchful Fey eyes, of course, but rarely in clean, tidy places. The keepsake boxes Papa had carved for them years ago were now overflowing with treasures from their journey: small rocks, wildflowers, snail shells, bird feathers, whatever caught their attention.

Kieran cast a grin Ellysetta’s way. His steps faltered as he caught sight of Sol Baristani; then his gaze shot to Ellysetta. She blushed furiously. A shei’dalin’s ability to restore mortal youth was a secret the Fey had guarded for millennia, and she had just revealed it for anyone to see.

Fortunately, before he could say anything, Lillis tugged on Kieran’s hair and bounced on his shoulders. “Faster, Kieran!” she cried. “They’re beating us!”

With a final look and a shake of his head, Kieran turned away and raced down the grassy hill after Kiel and Lorelle.

Ellysetta watched them and the tension that had been growing in her all week squeezed her chest tight. They were nearing the end of the journey. One more day, two at the most, then she would leave what remained of her beloved family to follow her new husband Rain through the mysterious Faering Mists, perhaps never to return.

Sol patted her hand and nodded his chin in the direction of the twins. “It is good to hear them laughing again.”

“Yes,” she agreed. The twins hadn’t had much cause for laughter of late.

“They miss their mother,” Sol said. “They try to smile and laugh for my sake, but I hear them each night, crying into their pillows and pleading for her to come back.”

Just that quick, Ellie’s own sharp grief struck hard. Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. “I miss her too, Papa.” Stern as Mama sometimes was, Ellie had never doubted her love—and never loved her back with any less than her whole heart.

“Oh, Ellie.” Sol slid an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and pulled her close. “My sweet, Ellie-girl. We all miss her.”

She turned her face into his neck as she had so many times in the past and sobbed. And her father held her, as he always had, patting her back and rocking her as if she were still the small child who’d crawled on his lap for comfort after evil visions tormented her dreams.

She cried until her tears were spent, and when they were done, wiped her eyes as best she could and begged again as she had so many times this last week, “Won’t you please come with us, Papa? Rain will grant you and the girls escort through the Mists. You could live there, with us, in safety.”

Sol sighed. “We are not Fey like you, Ellie. Our home is here, in Celieria, and the last promise I ever made your mother before…” His voice thickened. He drew a quick breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I promised her that day before she left for the cathedral that if anything ever happened to her, I’d make sure the twins were raised in Celieria, among their own kind.”

“Papa, she asked you for that promise when she still thought I was demon-possessed and the Fey were evil. She realized her mistake in the end. Don’t you think she’d realize her mistake about this too?” They’d been over this a thousand times since leaving Celieria City. “Wouldn’t she’d rather know the girls were safe regardless of where they live?”

“I gave her my word, Ellie. Shh.” He put a finger on her lips to forestall further objections. “It was my last vow to her, as sacred to me now as if I’d sworn it to her on her deathbed. So long as there is a chance of the girls living here in peace among our own kind, then here we will remain. You’re Fey, Ellysetta. You belong in the Fading Lands. We are mortal, and we belong here.” His eyes were filled with sadness but also unwavering determination.

Seeing that look, Ellysetta knew she’d lost. Her father was the most loving man she’d ever known, but when he had that hint of steel in his eye, it meant he’d made up his mind and would not be budged. She bit her lip, stared at the hands clasped tightly in her lap and nodded.

She heard her father sigh again, saw him shift in the periphery of her vision. His hand, broad and bronzed and callused from his years of woodcarving, reached out to cover hers. Love, rich and sweet and steadfast as love ever had been, poured into her through the touch, along with pride and gratitude, and a thought that rang in her head clear as a bell.

I love you, my sweet Ellie-girl. No man could love a daughter more, and no man could be prouder than I am of you. Though I will do everything I can to honor your mother’s wishes, I won’t risk my children’s safety needlessly. If trouble comes, the girls and I will pass through the Mists. That’s my oath to you.

Through vision blurred by swimming tears, she met his eyes and saw for herself the truth she could feel through the touch of his skin. It was more than she’d expected. His promise was an oath he considered as binding as the vow he’d made to his wife.

As the wagon continued its swift, smooth roll down the grassy hill towards the fertile plains of the Garreval below, Sol looked out at the majestic mountains and green fields.

“This is a beautiful place,” he said. “I think your Mama would have been very happy here.”

Ellie laid her head on her father’s shoulder. “I think so too.”

* * *

“The redirection weaves are up. The Garreval is secure.” Belliard vel Jelani, General of the Fading Lands, released the net of Spirit threads tying him to the dozens of Fey scouts spread in a five-mile radius around their destination. As they had all week, the warriors had cleared the caravan’s path of mortals and spun redirection weaves to turn away curious locals and Eld spies.

Just over three weeks ago, Celierians and their families had lined the roads and cart paths from the Garreval to Celieria City to watch the immortal Fey run past on their annual trek to the nation’s capital. This time, not one mortal would see or remember the Fey’s passing.

Bel turned to find Rain staring off towards the Fey caravan, his face drawn. “Rain? Something is wrong?” Bel’s hand went instinctively to his steel, his fingers hovering over the hilts of his Fey’cha throwing daggers.

“Nei.” With obvious effort, Rain dragged his attention back to his best friend. “Well, aiyah, but no different from the wrongness that has followed us since leaving Celieria. She weeps again for her mother.”

Bel glanced down at his hands, away from the pain in Rain’s lavender eyes. For all his power—impressive even by Fey standards—Rain could not weave the sorrow from his beloved’s heart. Oh, he could have spun a rosy illusion of happiness upon her—or asked another Fey to steal her memories—but that was not the Fey way. Both honor and love bound him, and he could do only what Fey men had for centuries: stand strong for his mate and offer what comfort his love could provide.

“You should go to her,” Bel said.

Rain sighed and shook his head. “Nei, she needs him more than me now—someone who loved her mother as deeply as she did.”

Bel had known Rain too long not to hear the comment left unsaid. “Everything Lauriana Baristani did, she did for love,” he reminded Rain gently. “And in the end she gave her life to save her child.”

“I realize that,” Rain replied, “but I cannot pretend an affection I never felt.”

Bel nudged a large clump of field grass with the toe of one black boot. Lauriana had never wanted Ellysetta to wed the Fey king, and she’d made sure everyone—including Rain—knew it. “Perhaps,” he finally said, “Ellysetta doesn’t need you to pretend love you did not feel. Perhaps it is enough just to know you are there, loving her.”

“She knows.” Rain swept a sharp gaze over the valley below. “So, there’s been no unusual activity in the last four days, and not a single person following us since we left Celieria City. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or suspicious. The Eld I knew would never let us get away so easily.”

Bel took the hint. “Perhaps our decoys are working.” A separate party of Fey had gone north, towards Orest, accompanied by a magic-warded wagon, so that Eld spies might think it held Ellysetta and her family.

“Let us hope so,” Rain said, his face set in stone. “But let us also prepare for the alternative—and not only from the Mages. If the dahl’reisen learn that Ellysetta can restore souls…”

Ice shivered through Bel’s veins. “You don’t think Gaelen would…” His voice broke off in disbelief, then surged back in protest. “He is Ellysetta’s lu’tan.” After Ellysetta restored his soul, Galen had bloodsworn himself to her service, vowing to protect her for the duration of his life and the death that followed. No lu’tan would break that vow. “Gaelen is Fey once more. His honor has been restored. Do not forget, without him Ellysetta would already be in the hands of the Mages.”

Rain’s jaw set. “I have not forgotten. Nor do I forget that all it takes is one look at his face without that scar, and his dahl’reisen friends will know the truth.” Of all the Fey, only dahl’reisen scarred, and they only when they made the kill that tipped their immortal souls into darkness. When Ellysetta had restored Gaelen’s soul, she’d wiped his dahl’reisen scar from existence. “No matter what trust you may feel for Gaelen as a fellow lu’tan, do not let your guard down. The dahl’reisen cannot be trusted, and they could attempt to use his long acquaintance with them to their advantage.”

Rain’s expression grew grim. Bel felt the brief surge of power, quickly harnessed, that came in response to whatever unpleasant thoughts were crossing Rain’s mind.

“I think I will return to Ellysetta after all,” Rain said.

He stepped back and the brief surge of power became a breathtaking flood as he summoned the Change. Sparkling gray mist billowed out in whirling clouds around Rain, and when it cleared a death-black tairen crouched in his place. The great winged cat fixed one large, glowing purple eye upon Bel, and a throbbing Spirit voice sounded in Bel’s head, powerful and resonant with the rich musical tones of the tairen.

**To Teleon, brother, and tomorrow, to home.**

* * *

Ellysetta climbed out of the wagon to walk the last mile across the greening plains of the Garreval as twenty Fey raced on ahead to secure their destination: the outpost built at the base of the ruins of the once-great fortress of Teleon. Lillis and Lorelle walked beside her, their small hands clutching hers.

She would always be grateful for this time Rain had given her with her family. He could have flown her straight to the Fading Lands on tairen-back but he had not. Knowing how dear her family was to her, he’d arranged for all of them to travel together. The Elvish ba’houda horses, bred for endurance and speed, traveled much faster than mortal steeds; but Rain in tairen form, using magic to power his flight, could have traversed the thousand miles across Celieria in a single day.

Even though he still left small courtship gifts on her pillow each morning, this extra time with her family was his true gift to her, and she worked to sear every precious memory into her mind. Like this one: the girls tripping through the tall grass at her side, their hair bouncing with their steps. A slight breeze blowing, fragrant with the scents of mist off the mountains and warm grass waving in the wind. She squeezed the twins’ small hands and watched dimples flash in their cheeks as laughter bubbled from them.

Dear gods, how she loved them. And if any harm ever befell them because of her…

**No dark thoughts, shei’tani.** The admonishment slipped into her mind on a now-familiar weave of Spirit.

Ellysetta glanced up at the great winged black cat soaring swiftly towards her over the top of a nearby hill. **Not so dark this time,** she answered. **Only a little grey.**

She could not blame him for thinking the worst. Her mind had not been peaceful since leaving Celieria City. The High Mage might not know where her body was, but despite Rain’s presence and the twenty-five fold weaves the Fey placed around the camp each night, the High Mage been able to find her soul more than once when she dreamed. He’d not managed to put another Mark on her, but each time he’d found her, she’d bolted out of sleep with her tairen roused to a raging bloodlust, roaring for death and vengeance.

Consequently, she’d spent most nights wide awake and flying the moonlit skies with Rain.

**I was just thinking I’ll miss my sisters when we’re gone. And I can’t help worrying about their safety**

**Kieran and Kiel will allow no harm to befall them.** The two Fey and two hundred of their brethren would be staying behind at Lord Teleos’s ancestral estate near the Garreval to guard Ellysetta’s family.

Rain swooped down the side of the hill fast and hard, Changing in mid-flight to the black-leather-clad form of his lean Fey body. He landed running, and a brief, swift jog brought him quickly to her side.

Just the sight of him and his glowing lavender eyes made Ellysetta’s breath catch in her throat. All Fey were ravishing creatures, but the legendary Rain Tairen Soul outshone them all. He was an immortal king whose unshielded Fey beauty dazzled the senses, his face a masterpiece of breathtaking male perfection, saved from prettiness by the thrust of strong bones beneath the skin and the aura of deadly promise that swirled just below the surface.

He was a Tairen Soul, the strongest and rarest of all Fey, a master of all five branches of magic wielded by the Fey, capable of Changing into one of the magical, fire-breathing tairen of the Fading Lands.

He was her truemate, the other half of her soul; and when at last Ellysetta found the courage and unconditional trust necessary to embrace the darkest shadows of his soul and her own without fear—to bare without reservation every thought, every fear, every shame and Eld-spawned malignancy inside her—then at last their souls would join for all eternity. If she failed, their uncompleted bond would drive Rain to madness and eventually death.

Yet even knowing that, Rain’s love—intense and absolute—shone from his eyes as he approached, setting Ellysetta’s senses aflame. She began to tremble. **Shei’tan.**

Luckily, before Ellysetta could embarrass herself, her young sister Lillis squealed and threw herself into Rain’s arms, shattering the intoxicating spell holding Ellysetta captive.

“Will you take us flying again today, Rain?” Lillis’s long eyelashes fluttered and her rosy lips curved in a beguiling smile. Only nine years old she might be, but Lillis Baristani had already honed her feminine wiles to an art.

“Oh! Yes! Yes! Please do!” Choosing natural exuberance over winsome guile, Lorelle bounded up, grabbed Rain’s free hand and jumped up and down with excitement.

Ellie smothered a laugh. Lillis and Lorelle had shed their fear of Rain and his power. He had become part of their family. Which also meant he’d become a hapless male to be twined around their fingers.

Rain, in return, had learned how to relax around them and let them draw out the Fey-gentleness in his heart. Though he was a man who could slaughter his enemies without mercy, with the twins, he now laughed and smiled like a man who had never known darkness.

“Let us get you safely settled in your new home first, ajianas. Then I will take you both flying again.”

Of course, he still had to work on how to say no.

“Hooray! Hooray!” Lorelle threw up her arms and danced around him in enthusiastic circles.

“Can we have a new kitty in our new home?” Lillis asked, fluttering her lashes again. “Since we had to leave Love behind.”

Kieran had convinced the girls that Love the kitten, who had a terrible aversion to magic, would be miserable living in the Fading Lands or staying with them so close to the powerful magic of the Mists. They’d reluctantly agreed to leave Love behind in Celieria City with Gaspare Fellows, the Queen’s Master of Graces.

Rain smiled. “A new kitten? I imagine Kieran and Kiel can arrange that. Perhaps one for each of you, hmm?”

Lillis strangled him with more hugs, then leapt out of his arms so she and her twin could run tell Kiel and Kieran they were going flying again and that Rain had said they could have a new kitten.

Ellie shook her head and watched them go. “One day you will have to learn the fine line between loving adoration and slavish devotion.”

He pressed a kiss on her palm. “Let me give them what gifts and freedoms I can. Their lives will soon have restriction enough. Teleos!” Rain lifted a hand to the Fey-eyed Celierian Great Lord, Devron Teleos, who stood beside the truemates Marissya and Dax v’En Solande, staring in silence at the place that was to be the Baristani family’s new home. “How long has it been since you’ve been to the Garreval?”

Teleos’s mouth drew down in a grimace. “I’ve made a point of visiting all my holdings at least once every year, but as you see, there’s not much to draw me here.”

Below, on the lower slopes of the Rhakis mountains, the remains of a once-great fortress rose from the tumbled rubble of silvery blue stone: Teleon, the former family seat of House Teleos. Even after a thousand years, its once-fabled beauty still lay shattered and abandoned, its Fey-spun towers and parapets crumbled, the remains covered in lichen and mosses and crowded with tufts of cliffgrass. A small stone outpost—crudely built and clearly mortal in origin—had been constructed atop a small hill at the base of the mountain, not far from the remains of what had once been a glorious gate into the walled city-fortress. Smoke curled up from a vent hole in the outpost’s small central hall.

Ellysetta tried to hide her dismay. This was her family’s new home?

As if hearing her thoughts, Lord Teleos said, “I feel a poor host for offering my guests so rude an accommodation.” The Celierian Great Lord, a descendant of Rain’s long-dead friend Shanis Teleos, eyed the remains of his once-great family estate with grim eyes. “Rain, are you sure the Feyreisa’s family would not be better served in one of my more respectable holdings?”

Rain smiled and shook his head, his straight, silky black hair sliding over his black-leather-clad shoulders. “Nei, this is perfect for our needs.”

“This was a place of great beauty once,” Lord Teleos said in a sorrowful voice. In the days before the raising of the Mists, his family had been close friends of the Fey, and the many Fey ancestors in his family tree had left Devron and all his forebears stamped with Fey eyes, a glow to their skin, and lifespans much longer than those of pure mortals. Teleon, which had once been an estate of inestimable beauty, had been a gift from the Fey to their kin in House Teleos.

“Aiyah, it was,” Marissya agreed. “I remember the terraced gardens with all their fountains. It reminded me of Dharsa.”

Lord Teleos regarded the ruins of his family estate with somber eyes.

“I always wished my ancestors had repaired it once the poison of the Wars was cleansed, but perhaps it’s best they never did. Mortal hands could never have done Teleon justice.” He sighed. “Some things, once lost, are better left in the past.”

Rain made a sound in his throat that sounded like something torn between a growl and a laugh. “And some things deserve to live again.” His eyes crinkled at the edges. “You did say we could make it habitable, Dev.”

Teleos’s brows drew together. “You mean to restore Teleon?”

“Aiyah te nei.” Yes and no. And on that mysterious note, Rain smiled and said, “Come. I think you will find you are not so poor a host as you fear.”

Brimming with curiosity, Marissya, Dax, Teleos and Ellysetta followed Rain as he led them the final half mile to the foot of the mountains.

Near the gate of the small outpost, and stationed along its outer wall, two dozen armored Celierian soldiers stood at attention. To a man, they sported snarling tairen’s-head helmets and white tabards edged with scarlet and emblazoned with the arms of House Teleos: a golden tairen rampant on a white field with a rising red sun. Pennants of white, scarlet and gold fluttered in the breeze.

They passed through the open gate, but when Lord Teleos would have headed for the main hall in the center, Rain stopped him. “Nei, Dev, not that way.”

Bel ran up just as the small party rounded the corner of the hall and started towards the back wall. Ellysetta turned to greet him, only to find him frowning up at the mountain towering over the back wall of the outpost. The shimmering radiance of the Mists was very bright, like a shadow made of light rather than darkness. Though mortal eyes would not see it, the whole mountainside glowed and rippled with undulating bands of magic.

Rain turned to cast a glance over his shoulder and smiled at Bel’s perplexed look. The rear stone wall of the outpost lay before him. Rain took another step. The air around him rippled like water in a pond.

With one more stride, Rain passed through the wall and disappeared from view.

“Spit and scorch me,” Dev breathed. He glanced at Marissya and Dax, then charged after Rain, plunging headfirst into what seemed like solid stone. The air rippled again, and Lord Teleos vanished too.

“Spirit weave,” Kiel said, his eyes sweeping over the mountainside. There was no sign of Rain or Lord Teleos, only the rear wall of the outpost and, beyond that, the tumbled remains of Teleon scattered across the mountainside, tufts of cliff grass and stands of hardy mountain trees waving in the breeze.

“Scorching clever one,” Bel said. “They’re using the magic-shadow off the Mists to mask the energy of the weave. Not even a Spirit master would see it until he was almost on top of it.”

“Well?” Kieran said with an eager grin. He held out a hand to Lillis. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go see what’s behind the weave.”

With a burbling laugh, she stuck her hand in his and they ran up the trampled path after Rain and Teleos. Lorelle grabbed Kiel’s hand and yanked the Water master with her as she darted forward in hot pursuit.

Ellysetta, Bel and Sol followed close behind, and when they stepped through the rippling wall of illusion and cast eyes on the sight beyond, Ellysetta’s jaw dropped open in stunned wonder.

“Bright Lord save me,” Sol whispered, staring awestruck at the gleaming magnificence before him. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“It’s like a magical palace from a Fey tale,” she breathed.

They were standing at the open, arching gate of an immense mountain fortress of unparalleled grace and beauty. Silvery blue stone soared high into the sky in a dazzling display of Fey artistry and architecture. Crenellated walls gave way to lush, gracefully terraced gardens bursting with trees, fountains, fragrant shrubs and flowers. Pennants in the bold colors of House Teleos fluttered in the breeze from every tower and along the series of interior walls that ringed up the mountainside and circled the upper keep with level after level of protection and silvery blue beauty.

“Ellie! Papa! Come look!” Lillis and Lorelle stood in the center of a small grassy park nestled against the second inner wall. They laughed and danced beneath the graceful, arching branches of cherry blossom trees as pale pink petals rained softly down upon them. Kieran and Kiel watched the children with indulgent smiles.

Lord Teleos stood dumbstruck at Rain’s side as Ellysetta and Sol crossed the lower courtyard to join the twins. “You did it,” he said. “You restored her to her former beauty.”

“Not completely,” Rain admitted. He dragged his gaze away from Ellysetta and the children and gave Devron Teleos his full attention. “A number of the gardens and buildings on the middle levels are still just Spirit weaves, but the walls and gates are real, and defensible, as is the manor at the top.”

“Even so…this is an amazing feat. How did you manage it?”

“Three thousand Fey stand guard at the great war-castles of Chatok and Chakai beyond the Mists. While we journeyed across Celieria, they came through the Mists to prepare a suitable home for the Feyreisa’s family. And to prepare Teleon for battle once more.”

Lord Teleos turned to him in surprise. “You think the Eld will strike here? With the Mists blocking any hope of entrance to the Fading Lands?”

Rain looked across the flagstone-cobbled courtyard to the lower garden, where Ellysetta, Sol and the twins were inspecting a marble fountain of dancing maidens whose slender, upstretched fingers rained veils of clear water into a small pond.

His expression lost any hint of softness. “If the Eld come,” he said, “I doubt it will be passage through the Mists they’re after.”

Chapter Two

In sorrow, the blood-sown earth despairs, and granite stone weeps bitter tears.
In fields once green, love lies entombed beneath a silent lake of glass
Forged in raging tairen flames, dark with the death of dreams.
There, shades of men and once-great kings yet battle evil’s tide
While silvery maidens softly dance and sing of love that died.

Sariel’s Lament by Avian of Celieria

Ellysetta stood on the balcony of a well-appointed bedchamber in one of Teleon’s spacious upper towers and looked up at the Mists. Several bells earlier, the setting sun set the Mists ablaze, giving the illusion of a curtain of fire burning across the world. Now the night was deep and the Mists were a shifting, shimmering glow of multicolored radiance against the dark of a near-moonless sky.

Rain and Lord Teleos had spent the day inspecting Teleon’s defenses and assisting the Fey in weaving silvery blue stone into magic-warded buildings and fortifications, Marissya, Ellysetta and the too-exuberant twins—who simply could not bear to be cooped up inside—had ventured through acre after acre of terraced gardens and countless miles of corridors, rooms and levels of the newly restored fortress. Though, as Rain had said, many of the middle gardens and buildings were naught but the shells of Spirit weaves—and how unsettling it was to enter a building only to have it disappear once you crossed the threshold!—there was still plenty of Earth-spun reality to explore; and the Fey who would be stationed here to protect the Baristanis would continue the reconstruction their brothers had begun until all of Teleon was restored to its former glory.

The girls, Ellysetta knew, would be happy here. With so much room to play and so many wondrous secrets to be discovered, it would be a long time before they felt the urge to stray from the safety of the keep in search of adventure.

The clap of bootheels on stone made her cast a glance over her shoulder. Still clothed in black leather and full steel, his Fey skin as pale and luminous as pearls in moonlight, Rain approached. He’d been meeting with Teleos, Bel, Kieran and Kiel to discuss the defense of Teleon and review troop strength and dispersal in the rest of Teleos’s holdings.

War was coming. No matter how some still tiptoed around the truth, all of them knew it. They only hoped there would be time enough to prepare before Celieria’s borders erupted into open battle.

And though it seemed a terrible thing to ask, Ellysetta had secretly prayed that when the attack came, the Eld’s first strike would come in some far distant part of Celieria like Orest or Celieria City so the Fey would have enough warning to evacuate Lillis, Lorelle, and Papa to safety behind the Faering Mists.

That secret prayer seemed ill-considered now. The hearth witches of the north—and there had been plenty of them living in her childhood town of Hartslea, despite the strong Church presence there—believed that wishing harm upon others would bring three times that harm to the wisher. Was hoping the first battle of a war started somewhere else the same as wishing harm upon another? Ellysetta shivered at the prospect.

“Cold?” Rain asked.

“A little.” She seized on the excuse, not wanting to admit how nervous a silly superstition made her.

“There is a thing I need to do tonight before returning to the Fading Lands. I had hoped you would come with me, but if you are cold, perhaps you should stay here, instead, and try to get some sleep.”

“No, I’m fine.” She reached for his hand. “Of course, I’ll come with you.”

“Then let’s go—and bring your cloak.”

Ten chimes later, they were soaring through the night skies high over Teleon. Ellysetta stretched out her arms and turned her face up to the stars. Rain spun a light Fire weave to keep her warm as the chill, thin air swept past.

**Hold on.** The brief command was her only warning before Rain twitched back his rounded tairen ears, spouted a warming jet of flame that lit the night, then tucked in his mighty wings and dove.

Ellysetta screamed with laughter and grabbed for the high, curving pommel of her saddle just as the unsettling thrill of weightlessness came over her. Together, she and Rain fell through the sky, plummeting freely towards the ground miles below. The moonlit sky went silvery white, and fine droplets of water misted Ellysetta’s face as they plunged into a cloudbank. She caught the tangy-fresh chill of cloudmist on her tongue, drinking its bracing sweetness.

One heartbeat, two, then they burst through the clouds back into the crisp, clear darkness of the night.

Tairen wings spread wide, snapped taut, and the wild, reckless plunge became a swooping ascent. Ellysetta screamed again, a breathless, exuberant sound, and clutched the saddle tight. **Rain! I think I left my stomach back there.**

The now-familiar, chuffing sound of tairen laughter joined the rush of the wind in her ears. **Hold on again, shei’tani. This is even better.**

Flows of magic spun out to bind her securely into place and Rain shot forward on a thrust of a magic-powered speed. The world rushed by in a dizzying blur, and with a subtle shift of his wings, he sent them spiraling into a corkscrew roll. Shadowy earth and moonlit sky whirled in a wild kaleidoscope before Ellysetta’s dazzled eyes.

Another woman might have shrieked in fear and begged him to stop. Ellysetta only flung back her head and laughed in delight. Freedom coursed through her veins like a potent drug.

She would never tire of flying. The limitless joy of dancing laughter-spangled winds, the thrill of diving through misty clouds and soaring so high she could almost scoop stardust with her fingertips: flying was a joy so rich, it chased back all sorrows and fears. Well, she amended silently, almost all.

**Rain, do you honestly think when we get to Fey’Bahren, I can just walk in and spin a weave that will cure the kitlings of whatever is killing them?** That was the reason Rain had come to Celieria to find her. Unbeknownst to the outside world, a mysterious sickness had been killing unborn tairen kitlings in the egg for centuries, decimating their numbers until scarcely more than a dozen of the great cats still lived A magical oracle called Shei’Kess, the Eye of Truth, had sent Rain to Celieria to find the key to saving the dying tairen.

She, Ellysetta Baristani, was that key. Even if none of them actually knew how she was going to manage the miracle.

**I know it doesn’t sound like much of a plan,** he said, **but the tairen have never let any of our healers into the lair—not even Marissya. You, however, are both a Tairen Soul and my truemate. You’ll be able to enter the lair and weave healing on the kits as no other shei’dalin has been able to.**

**This assumes I’ll even know what weave to spin when I get there—let alone how to spin it.**

**That’s why Marissya will be going with us to Fey’Bahren—so she can continue your training and counsel you while you’re healing the tairen. Besides, you may not even need her help. She tells me you have been doing well in your studies.**

**She is being kind.**

**I doubt that. I heard you healed Ravel’s new Fire master well enough this afternoon while I took your sisters flying.**

She gave a short laugh. **Oh, yes, I healed him all right. I made that wound vanish as if it had never been.**

**There, you see—**

**And I erased every hint of weariness from the last week of travel,** she informed him. **And wiped clean every shadow on his soul. And filled him with such an abundance of energy that he shone like a newly minted coin and spent the rest of the day racing circles around my quintets until Bel and Ravel both threatened to pull red on him if he twitched another muscle.**

There was a brief silence; then Rain said in an oddly choked voice, **Well, shei’tani, there are worse tribulations in life than healing a Fey too well.** Chuffing tairen laughter vibrated in his throat.

Her eyes narrowed. He found that amusing, did he? **And when he wasn’t annoying his brother Fey, he was following me around like a lovesick puppy.**

The chuffing laughter changed instantly to a low, rumbling growl. Licks of flame seared the air before Rain’s muzzle. **Oh, was he?** The fur on the back of his neck rose up, and his rounded ears lay back. Tairen were territorial creatures, and they definitely did not appreciate encroaching males trespassing too near their mates.

**Ha! You see? It’s not so funny anymore, is it?** She ran a frustrated hand through the wind-tangled spirals of her hair. **I’m like a rultshart in a spider-silk shop. If Marissya asks me to summon a puff of Air, I call a gale so strong it knocks her off her feet. If she asks me to summon Water, I nearly flood the encampment.**

**Your power is vast,** Rain soothed, **and no longer restrained by the weaves set upon you in childhood. You simply need time and practice to learn how to wield it in moderation.**

She sighed. **Even assuming I can learn to control my power enough to spin the right weaves, what if healing doesn’t stop whatever’s killing the kits?**

His right wing dipped, and he banked, wheeling back around towards the south. **Then we go to Dharsa and start from the beginning, asking the Eye of Truth for guidance and searching the Hall of Scrolls in the hopes of finding answers. Perhaps you can help us see something we have overlooked all these years, or perhaps your presence will induce the Eye to be more helpful.**

**Rain, be realistic.**

**I am. I asked for the key to saving the tairen and the Fey and the Eye sent me to you. To me, it seems quite clear that whatever is killing the kitlings, you are integral to making it stop. I do not doubt this, even though you do.**

Rain’s wings spread wide and he sank through the sky in a circling glide, alighting on a stretch of empty field. A cradling ribbon of Air magic deposited Ellysetta on her feet while the Change swirled around Rain’s tairen form in a sparkling mist.

His hands rose, long fingers threading into the wild spirals of her flame-red hair, the pad of his thumb brushing across her lips and leaving tingles of awareness behind. “We’re here, shei’tani.”

Ellysetta glanced at their surroundings. Nothing looked familiar.

“Where is ‘here’?”

His eyes went dark. “This is Eadmond’s Field.”

Ellysetta’s breath hitched.

Eadmond’s field.

The place where, a thousand years ago, the most infamous battle of the Mage Wars had been fought.

The place where Rain’s first mate Sariel had died.

The place where Rain Tairen Soul had gone mad and scorched the world.

Lady of Light and Shadows is the second half of C.L. Wilson’s original 1,000-page manuscript. That’s one of the reasons (a 1,000-page manuscript from a new author being another) her Tairen Soul series was rejected several times before finally being published. At that time, C.L., in her wildest dreams, never imagined her book would go well beyond that thousand pages to culminate in five books. When dreams fly, they go fast and far.

In this book, Ellie is coming into her own, learning she’s more than who she thought she was all her life. Her romance with Rain is still fledgling but progressing toward something that calls to her soul. Of course, evil magic is not too far away no matter where this couple is. Especially now that Ellie is learning how to use her magic and also learning more about the darkness residing within her.

Below, enjoy my original review of LoLaS, along with an excerpt from the book.

Sandy M’s review of Lady of Light and Shadows (Tairen Soul, Book 2) by C.L. Wilson
Paranormal/Fantasy Romance published by Avon 28 Sep 10 (reissue)

Even though she is a woodcarver’s daughter, Ellysetta Baristani holds a powerful magic within herself, magic she is afraid to wield. She’s hopeful with her truemate’s help to learn to harness that magic to avoid such disasters as the one she wielded at her first official function as queen to Rain Tairen Soul’s king of the fey.

She not only has embarrassed herself, Rain, and all noblemen and women present, but she’s made it much more difficult for Rain to garner the votes he needs to halt the proposed opening of Cerelia’s borders with Eld, the place where evil magic resides within their mages. Then there are her dreams and nightmares that scare her to the point of wishing she had no magic. Ellie knows something horrible is going to happen, something that involves her and she doesn’t know what it is or how to stop it. All of the polishing in the world to make her a queen will make no difference if that evil finally claims her. If it weren’t for Rain, she doesn’t know what she would do.

Becoming more and more frustrated with the Cerelians’ lack of suspicion concerning the Eld mages’ current plans and their loss of trust in the fey, it is Rain’s courtship of Ellie that keeps him sane. He knows she is frightened of her magic, and now she has begun to share his dreams, which is making her situation all the more dire than ever before.

Teaching her how to call and use her magic has been going well, but it is those moments alone with his beloved that fill his heart with love and life, something he desperately needs as he gathers the evidence the Cerelian Council demands before they will deny their foolish plan to open their world to the evil just beyond their borders. Unbeknownst to both Rain and Ellysetta, that evil has already infiltrated their world and is working its way toward pulling them into an unknown from which they will never recover.

Fighting for their future together from attacks on several different fronts, including her mother, is taking its toll on Ellie and Rain, and it seems every day brings another problem that has to be resolved. Feeling more and more confident the mages are closer than any of them realize, Rain is determined to move their wedding up and then quickly whisk Ellie off to the fading lands where she will be out of harm’s way.

But as last-minute preparations are being made and Rain is in the middle of the city leaders’ vote concerning their fate, Ellie is finally faced with the fear that has haunted her all her life and she’s fighting with all she’s got for everyone and everything she holds dear. The one time she needs her magic and her psychic link to Rain is when it seems to desert her and she is within evil’s grasp. Will Rain be able to reach her in time to save his truemate, the one and only person who completes him heart and soul? Will Ellysetta finally be able to cleave to her magic and become the woman she’s meant to be?

C.L. Wilson has done it once again with her sequel to Lord of the Fading Lands. Lady of Light and Shadows throws us straight into the lives of this endearing duo who work their way into our hearts all over again when their story picks up right where it left off in the previous book.

Rain and Ellie’s courtship, although wonderful to behold, is fraught with tension from different corners, but when Rain takes to the skies again in his tairen form with Ellie on his back, all is right with the world for a little while.

There is more heartache this time around, though; and the evil that was kept to the background before comes barreling full throttle into the forefront and pulls no punches.

Ms. Wilson’s writing is a wonder to behold and read. She will keep you in awe with emotion and suspense until the very last word, and then she will make you desperately long for the next edition of this beautiful four-book fantasy.

Grade: A+

Summary:

Since her earliest memories, Ellysetta Baristani has feared magic, even as she has been inexorably drawn to all things Fey, especially the poetry and legends of Rain Tairen Soul. Now claimed as Rain’s truemate and no longer able to deny her own magic, Ellysetta is swept into the very center of a struggle filled with the magic and darkness she has always feared. The High Mage of Eld wants to capture her. The most murderous dahl’reisen who ever lived wants her dead. And her enemies will corrupt even the people she loves most in their quest to claim her magic for themselves.

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

I dream of wing and fang and pride, I dream of venom swift and sure.

I dream of song and cloud and sky, I dream of flame that scorches pure.

I dream of dancing crystal winds, and soaring high above the world.

I dream of enemies and prey that flee my dread and fiery roar.

Tairen Dreams, by Jion vel Baris, Tairen Soul

Ellysetta Baristani stood in the dark, fire-lit cavern of Fey’Bahren, the fabled nesting lair of the tairen. Nearby, six leathery eggs lay incubating in a thick, cushioning layer of hot black sand. A massive, cinnamon-furred tail curled protectively around the eggs, its black tip rising and falling rhythmically, raising clouds of fine dark dust as it thumped the sand. The dust swirled about Ellie like shadowy mist, darkening her skirts with a fine layer of sooty ash. Unshed tears clogged the back of her throat and stung her eyes.

The tairen were dying.

Ellie couldn’t explain how she knew it. The knowledge was just there in her mind, and it felt familiar, as if it had been there for a long, long time.

Calah, the last fertile female of the tairen pride, was growing feebler with each passing day, her life’s essence draining as she struggled to maintain the viability of her six unhatched kitlings. The last hope of a future for the tairen rested with those tiny, unborn lives—three of them female— their life force weakening even as their small bodies matured in the egg.

The mother tairen’s cinnamon fur was dull and shedding. Her proud feline head—larger than Ellysetta’s body—rested wearily on her forepaws, and her piercing golden eyes were closed. Breath heaved in and out of her enormous body in great windy gusts. She had not eaten in two weeks. Her mate, Merdrahl, was frantic with worry. He paced restlessly by the entrance to the nesting grounds, brown wings rustling, massive paws padding not so silently back and forth across the sands, low growls emanating from his powerful chest and rumbling through the cavern like thunder. His dark brown tail curled and uncurled, flicking in agitation. His fur was ruffled, his ears laid back, and his fangs dripped deadly tairen venom. Every so often, he would pause, dig his claws into the rock, and heave an angry jet of flame.

If Merdrahl could have slain something to bring peace to his mate and protect their offspring, he would have. And Ellysetta would have helped him.

A growl sounded overhead. She looked up into the gleaming, pupilless green eyes of Sybharukai, the wise one, oldest of all female tairen and makai— leader—of the Fey’Bahren pride. She crouched on the ledge above, her unsheathed front claws curling into the rock of her perch. Her dark, silver-tipped gray fur gleamed like thunderclouds and smoke in the flickering light of the cavern. The rounded points of her ears flicked continuously. Her dark gray tail swished restlessly in the air, and the lethal bony spikes hidden in its furred tip stabbed at the rocks around her. Her wings unfolded and stretched high above her back, flapping twice. The sharp claw at the mid-span joint on each wing gleamed like a curved mei’cha blade in the flickering light.

**I will find a way, Sybharukai.** A deep, masculine voice sang the vow in the rich, vivid tones of tairen song.

Heat curled in Ellysetta’s belly, drawing inner muscles tight in a series of small, rippling shudders of remembered pleasure. She turned and found Rain standing beside her.

Rainier vel’En Daris, the Tairen Soul, the legendary Fey shapeshifter who had once scorched the world in a wild, grief-stricken fury over the death of his beloved mate, Sariel.

Rain Tairen Soul, King of the Fey, who had stepped from the sky to claim Ellysetta as his shei’tani, his truemate, the only woman ever born with whom he could form a soul bond even stronger than the love bond he’d held with Sariel.

His long black hair hung down his back, straight and fine, framing a face of breathtaking masculine beauty. Black Fey leathers hugged broad shoulders, slim hips, and long, lean legs. His deadly swords and the scores of throwing knives tucked into the bands criss-crossing his chest gleamed golden in the flickering firelight. His lavender eyes were glowing, his beautiful mouth grim.

“I will find a way,” he said again, aloud this time but still addressing the majestic gray tairen. “I will not fail you.”

Turning, he strode off the nesting sands towards a wide opening at the end of the cavern. Ellie hurried after him and together they jogged up a long, winding passage through the mountain and emerged on a wide, sunlit ledge high above the Fading Lands. Ellie raised a hand to shield her eyes, blinking at the brightness of the Great Sun.

When her eyes adjusted, she gave a gasp of awe-filled wonder. They were standing near the top of the steep, dark mountainside of Fey’Bahren, the tallest volcano in the majestic Feyls range that formed the northern border of the Fading Lands. Below, the rippling golden grasses of the Plains of Corunn spread out for miles. She drank in the breathtaking scenery, which seemed at once familiar yet new, like a forgotten memory, freshly renewed.

“Oh, Rain,” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful.”

Beside her, magic gathered as Rain summoned the Change.

Ellysetta’s body tingled as the surge of energy swept around and through her. A fine gray mist billowed about him, about them both, and she threw back her head on a swell of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Though it was Rain, not she, who was the shapeshifter, she felt his body dissolve and expand as if it were her own, felt the echo of awareness as his Fey senses grew even more acute. Fur sprouted, wings spread, claws speared the rock.

Moments later the mist cleared, and a magnificent death-black tairen with huge lavender eyes crouched on the ledge where Rain Tairen Soul, the Fey king and Ellysetta’s betrothed, had stood. The tairen spread his enormous ebony wings, gathered strength in his haunches, and sprang into the air with an echoing roar.

Behind him, standing alone on the ledge, still trapped in her human form, she cried out, “Rain, come back! Don’t leave me!”

* * *

Ellysetta woke with her heart thumping and tears cooling on her cheeks. Another dream, one that seemed so real. The emotions still held her heart clutched tight, making her want to weep in despair for the dying tairen and the terrible, grieving emptiness that struck when Rain took to the air and abandoned her on that ledge.

**Another nightmare, shei’tani?** The familiar sound of Rain’s Spirit voice, low and husky with sleep, sounded in her mind. An arm tightened around her waist. There was a warm, heavy weight pressed against her in her narrow bed—and it was most definitely not her twin sisters, Lillis and Lorelle, cuddling up with her as they sometimes did.

She turned her head slowly, and her breath stalled in her lungs.

For the first time in the last five days, there was no little courtship gift beside her when she woke. There was, instead, a great big one. All black leather, white skin and inky hair, Rain lay beside her on her narrow bed, his long limbs draped over her.

Thinking she must still be dreaming, she closed her eyes, inhaled, opened them again.

He was still there, solid and warm, his face pressed to her neck.

She should leap up and get dressed before her mother came in and found her like this, but she couldn’t seem to move her limbs. Instead, she lay there, staring at him in dazed wonder. Through her bedroom window the first pale rays of the rising Great Sun shone down upon them. Dawn was breaking, and Rain Tairen Soul was in her bed.

I look at this cover now and think how crazy I was to judge the fantasy story inside as something I probably wouldn’t like. Now this cover as well as the other four in this series are some of my favorites. The old saying is true: Don’t judge a book its cover.

This is the story that started it all. Rain Tairen Soul is called from the sky by his truemate, Ellysetta Baristani. It’s been centuries since a Tairen Soul has found a truemate. And thus begins their journey of learning of each other, falling in love, and binding their souls together as one, all the while fighting evil to save the Fey and the Tairen and their world as they know it.

C.L. Wilson has made reading this book a truly amazing experience.

The following is my original review of Lord of the Fading Lands and then an excerpt for your reading pleasure today.

SandyM’s review of Lord of the Fading Lands by C.L. Wilson
Fantasy/paranormal romance published Oct 2, 2007 by Leisure (Dorchester)

I have found my book of the year. Maybe even my book of the decade. C.L. Wilson’s LORD OF THE FADING LANDS is simply wonderful, fantastic, terrific. How easily I have to eat my words. When I first looked at the cover of this book, I thought, “Uh-oh, I have a feeling I’m not going to like this one, it’s fantasy.” Now, I don’t have a thing against fantasy books. I just love my historicals and paranormals more, so I don’t read many fantasies. Even as much as I loved LotFL, I don’t think I’m going to be a 100% lover of fantasies (I will give some a try here and there, however), but I’m definitely now a die-hard fan of C.L. Wilson’s.

After fighting in the Mage Wars a thousand years ago, losing his heartmate in those wars, and also losing himself in grief so deeply that he breathed fire on half the world, burning anything and everything in his wake, Rain Tairen Soul is coming out of his self-imposed reclusiveness to save his people, the fey, and the tairen.

See the rest of The Lord of the Fading Lands review here.

Prologue

Loudly, proudly, tairen sing,

As they soar on mighty wings

Softly, sadly, mothers cry

To sing a tairen’s lullabye

The Tairen’s Lament, Fey Nursery Rhyme

The tairen were dying.

Rain Tairen Soul, king of the Fey, could no longer deny the truth. Nor, despite all his vast power and centuries of trying, could he figure a way to save either the creatures that were his soul-kin or the people who depended upon him to lead and defend them.

The tairen—those magnificent, magical, winged cats of the Fading Lands—had only one fertile female left in their pride, and she grew weaker by the day as she fed her strength to her six unhatched kitlings. With those tiny, unborn lives rested the last hope of a future for the tairen, and the last hope of a future for Rain’s people, the Fey. But today, the painful truth had become clear. The mysterious, deadly wasting disease that had decimated the tairen over the last millennium had sunk its evil, invisible claws into yet another clutch of unhatched kits.

When the tairen died, so too would the Fey. The fates of the two species were forever intertwined, and had been since the misty time before memory.

Rain looked around the wide, empty expanse of the Hall of Tairen. Indeed, he thought grimly, the death of the immortal Fey had begun centuries ago.

Once, in a time he could still remember, the Hall had rung with the sound of hundreds of Fey Lords, warriors, shei’dalins and Tairen Souls arguing politics and debating treaties. Those days had long passed. The Hall was silent now, as silent as the long-abandoned cities of the Fey, as silent as Fey nurseries, as silent as the graves of all those Fey who had died in the Mage Wars a thousand years ago.

Now the last hope for both the tairen and the Fey was dying, and Rain sensed a growing darkness in the east, in the land of his ancient enemies, the Mages of Eld. He couldn’t help but believe the two events were somehow connected.

He turned to face the huge priceless globe of magical Tairen’s Eye crystal called the Eye of Truth, which occupied the center of the room. Displayed on the wings of a man-high stand fashioned from three golden tairen, the Eye was an oracle in which a trained seer could search for answers in the past, the present, and the infinite possibilities of the future. The globe was ominously dark and murky now, the future a dim, forbidding shadow. If there was a way to halt the relentless extermination of his peoples, the answer lay there, within the Eye.

The Eye of Truth had been guarding its secrets, showing shadows but no clear visions. It had resisted the probes of even the most talented of the Fey’s still-living seers, played coy with even their most beguiling of magic weaves. The Eye was, after all, tairen-made. By its very nature, it combined pride with cunning, passion with often-wicked playfulness. Seers approached it with respect, humbly asked it for a viewing, courted its favor with their minds and their magic but never their touch.

The Eye of Truth was never to be touched.

It was a golden rule of childhood, drummed into the head of every Fey from infant to ancient.

The Eye held the concentrated magic of ages, power so pure and undiluted that laying hands upon it would be like laying hands upon the Great Sun.

But the Eye was keeping secrets, and Rain Tairen Soul was a desperate king with no time to waste and no patience for protocol. The Eye of Truth would be touched. He was the king, and he would have his answers. He would wrest them from the oracle by force, if necessary.

His hands rose. He summoned power effortlessly and wove it with consummate skill. Silvery white Air formed magical webs that he laid upon the doors, walls, floor, and ceiling. A spidery network of lavender Spirit joined the Air, then green Earth to seal all entrances to the Hall. None would enter to disturb him. No scream, no whisper, no mental cry could pass those shields. Come good or ill, he would wrest his answers from the Eye without interruption—and if it demanded a life for his impertinence, it would be unable to claim any but his.

He closed his eyes and cleared his mind of every thought not centered on his current purpose. His breathing became deep and even, going in and out of his lungs in a slow rhythm that kept time with the beat of his heart. His entire being contracted into a single shining blade of determination.

His eyes flashed open. Rain Tairen Soul reached out both hands to grasp the Eye of Truth.

“Aaahh!” Power – immeasurable, immutable – arced through him. His head flung back beneath its onslaught, his teeth bared, his throat straining with a scream of agony. Pain drilled his body like a thousand sel’dor blades, and despite twelve hundred years of learning to absorb pain, to embrace it and mute it, Rain writhed in torment.

This pain was unlike any he had ever known.

This pain refused to be contained.

Fire seared his veins and scorched his skin. He felt his soul splinter and his bones melt. The Eye was angry at his daring affront. He had assaulted it with his bare hands and bare power, and such was not to be borne. Its fury screeched along his bones, vibrating down his spine, slashing at every nerve center in his body until tears spilled from his eyes and blood dripped from his mouth where he bit his lip to stop screaming.

“Nei,” he gasped. “I am the Tairen Soul, and I will have my answer.”

If the Eye wished to cement the extinction of both tairen and Fey, it would claim Rain’s life. He was not afraid of death, rather he longed for it.

He surrendered himself to the Eye and forced his tortured body to relax. Power and pain flowed into him, through him, claiming him without resistance. And when the violent rush of power had invaded his every cell, when the pain filled his entire being, a strange calm settled over him. The agony was there, extreme and nearly overwhelming, but without resistance he was able to distance his mind from his body’s torture, to disassociate the agony of the physical from the determination of the mental. He forced his lips to move, his voice a hoarse cracked whisper of sound that spoke ancient words of power to capture the Eye’s immense magic in flows of Air, Water, Fire, Earth, and Spirit.

His eyes opened, glowing bright as twin moons in the dark reflection of the Eye, burning like coals in a face bone white with pain.

With voice and mind combined, Rain Tairen Soul asked his question: “How can I save the tairen and the Fey?”

Relentlessly, absorbing the agony of direct contact with the Eye, he searched its raging depths for answers. Millions of possibilities flashed before his eyes, countless variations on possible futures, countless retellings of past events. Millennia passed in an instant, visions so rapid his physical sight could never have hoped to discern them, yet his mind, steadily commanding the threads of magic, absorbed the images and processed them with brutal clarity. He stood witness to the deaths of millions, the rise and fall of entire civilizations. Angry unfettered magic grew wild in the world and Mages worked their evil deeds. Tairen shrieked in pain, immolating the world in their agony. Fey women wept oceans of tears, and Fey warriors fell helpless to their knees, as weak as infants. Rain’s mind screamed to reject the visions, yet still his hands gripped the Eye of Truth, and still he voiced his question, demanding an answer.

“How can I save the tairen and the Fey?”

He saw himself in tairen form, raining death indiscriminately upon unarmed masses, his own tairen claws impaling Fey warriors.

“How can I save the tairen and the Fey?”

Sariel, his beloved mate, lay bloody and broken at his feet, pierced by hundreds of knives, half her face scorched black by Mage fire. She reached out to him, her burned and bloodied mouth forming his name. He watched in helpless paralysis as the flashing arc of an Elden Mage’s black sel’dor blade sliced down across her neck. Bright red blood fountained.

The unutterable pain of Sariel’s death—tempered by centuries of life without her—surged back to life with soul-shredding rawness. Rage and bloodlust exploded within him, mindless, visceral, unstoppable. It was the Fey Wilding rage, fueled by a tairen’s primal fury, unfettered emotions backed by lethal fangs, incinerating fire, and access to unimaginable power.

They would die! They had slain his mate, and they would all die for their crime! His shrieking soul grasped eagerly for the madness, the power to kill without remorse, to scorch the earth and leave nothing but smoldering ruins and death.

“Nei!” Rain yanked his hands from the Eye and flung up his arms to cover his face. His breath came in harsh pants as he battled to control his fury. Once before, in a moment of madness and unendurable pain, he had unleashed the beast in his soul and rained death upon the world. He had slain thousands in mere moments, laid waste to half a continent within a few days. It had taken the combined will of every still-living tairen and Fey to cage his madness.

“Nei! Please,” he begged, clawing for self-possession. He released the weaves connecting him to the Eye in a frantic hope that shearing the tie would stop the rage fighting to claim him.

Instead, it was as if he had called Fire in an oil vault.

The world was suddenly bathed in blood as his vision turned red. The tairen in him shrieked for release. To his horror, he felt his body begin to dissolve, saw the black fur form, the lethal curve of tairen claws spear the air.

For the first time in twelve hundred years of life, Rainier vel’En Daris knew absolute terror.

The magic he’d woven throughout the Hall would never hold a Tairen Soul caught up in a Fey Wilding Rage. All would die. The world would die.

The Tairen-Change moved over him in horrible slow motion, creeping up his limbs, taunting him with his inability to stop it. The small sane part of his mind watched like a stunned, helpless spectator, seeing his own death hurtling towards him and realizing with detached horror that he was going to die and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

He had overestimated his own power and utterly underestimated that of the Eye of Truth.

“Stop,” he shouted. “I beg you. Stop! Don’t do this.” Without pride or shame, he fell to his knees before the ancient oracle.

The Rage left him as suddenly as it had come.

In a flash of light, his tairen-form disappeared. Flesh, sinew, and bone reformed into the lean, muscular lines of his Fey body. He collapsed face down on the floor, gasping for breath, the sweat of terror streaming from his pores, his muscles shaking uncontrollably.

Faint laughter whispered across the stone floor and danced on the intricately carved columns that lined either side of the Hall of Tairen.

The Eye mocked him for his arrogance.

“Aiyah,” he whispered, his eyes closed. “I deserve it. But I am desperate. Our people—mine and yours both—face extinction. And now dark magic is rising again in Eld. Would you not have dared any wrath to save our people?”

The laughter faded, and silence fell over the Hall, broken only by the wordless noises coming from Rain himself, the sobbing gasp of his breath, the quiet groans of pain he didn’t have the strength to stifle. In the silence, power gathered. The fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. He became aware of light, a kaleidoscope of color bathing the Hall, flickering through the thin veil of his eyelids.

His eyes opened – then went wide with wonder.

There, from its perch atop the wings of three golden tairen, the Eye of Truth shone with resplendent clarity, a crystalline globe blazing with light. Prisms of radiant color beamed out in undulating waves.

Stunned, he struggled to his knees and reached out instinctively towards the Eye. It wasn’t until his fingers were close enough to draw tiny stinging arcs of power from the stone that he came to his senses and snatched his hands back without touching the oracle’s polished surface.

There had been something in the Eye’s radiant depths—an image of what looked like a woman’s face—but all he could make out were fading sparkles of lush green surrounded by orange flame. A fine mist formed in the center of the Eye, then slowly cleared as another vision formed. This image he saw clearly as it came into focus, and he recognized it instantly. It was a city he knew well, a city he despised. The second image faded and the Eye dimmed, but it was enough. Rain Tairen Soul had his answer. He knew his path.

With a groan, he rose slowly to his feet. His knees trembled, and he staggered back against the throne to collapse on the cushioned seat.

Rain gazed at the Eye of Truth with newfound respect. He was the Tairen Soul, the most powerful Fey alive, and yet the Eye had reduced him to a weeping infant in a mere moments. If it had not decided to release him, it could have used him to destroy the world. Instead after beating the arrogance out of him, it had given up at least one of the secrets it was hiding.

He reached out to the Eye with a lightly woven stream of Air, Fire and Water and whisked away the faint smudges left behind by the fingers he had dared to place upon it.

**Sieks’ta. Thank you.** He filled his mental tone with genuine respect and was rewarded by the instant muting of his body’s pain. With a bow to the Eye of Truth, he strode towards the massive carved wooden doors at the end of the Hall of Tairen and tore down his weaves.

** Marissya.** He sent the mental call to the Fey’s strongest living shei’dalin even as he reached out with Air to swing open the Hall’s heavy doors before him. The Fey warriors guarding the door to the Hall of Tairen nodded in response to the orders he issued with swift, flashing motions of his hands as he strode by, and the flurry of movement behind him assured him his orders were being carried out.

**Rain?** Marissya’s mental voice was as soothing as her physical one, her curiosity mild and patient.

**A change of plans. I’m for Celieria in the morning and I’m doubling your guard. Let your kindred know the Feyreisen is coming with you.**

Even across the city, he could feel her shocked surprise, and it almost made him smile.

* * *

Half a continent away, in the mortal city of Celieria, Ellysetta Baristani huddled in the corner of her tiny bedroom room, tears running freely down her face, her body trembling.

The nightmare had been so real, the agony so intense. Dozens of angry, stinging welts scored her skin…self-inflicted claw marks that might have been worse had her fingernails been longer. But worse than the pain of the nightmare had been the helpless rage and the soul-shredding sense of loss, the raw animal fury of a mortally wounded heart. Her own soul had cried out in empathetic sorrow, feeling the tortured emotions as if they had been her own.

And then she’d sensed something else. Something dark and eager and evil. A crouching malevolent presence that had ripped her out of dreams and sleep, bringing her bolt upright in her bed, a cry of familiar terror on her lips.

She covered her eyes with shaking hands. Please, gods, not again.

Chapter One

“Ellie, don’t be such a soggy dorn.” Nine-year-old Lorelle Baristani pouted at her older sister.

It was, in Ellysetta’s opinion, an adorable pout. Lorelle’s out-thrust lower lip was plump and pink, her round cheeks soft as satin, and her big brown eyes heart-tuggingly soulful. The whole enchanting picture was complimented by masses of mink brown ringlets, and more than one seasoned adult had been known to abandon common sense in the face of such considerable infant artillery. Unfortunately for Lorelle, Ellie was made of sterner stuff.

She smiled and bent to kiss her sister’s cheek. “A soggy dorn, am I? Just because I don’t want to spend the whole day caught up in what’s sure to be the worst crush in the past year? And for what? To catch a brief glimpse of a Fey warrior as he walks past?” Ellie shook her head and punched down the bread dough she was making for tonight’s dinner rolls.

Tomorrow was the much-anticipated annual visit of the shei’dalin Marissya v’En Solande. Her arrival was always a spectacle as she and her guard of one hundred fierce leather- and steel-bedecked Fey warriors entered the city and marched down the main thoroughfare to the palace.

A week ago, Ellysetta would have gone, no matter how long the wait, just for the chance of glimpsing the glint off a Fey blade. But that was before that disturbing nightmare and before the dark dreams that had continued to haunt her ever since. When she woke each morning, her skin felt tight, her muscles inexplicably sore and weary, as if each night she fought a battle in her sleep. As if she were fighting to keep something out…or worse, to keep something in.

Memories flashed—horrifying convulsions racking her body, Mama’s fear, the Church of Light exorcists with their fervent, shining eyes and merciless determination to drive the demons from her soul.

She shuddered from the awful memories and quickly sketched the sign of the Lord of Light. No, all things considered, now was a bad time for Ellie to go anywhere near the Fey and their powerful magic.

“Besides, I’m busy tomorrow,” she told Lorelle, grateful for the genuine excuse. “Lady Zillina ordered an entire new suite for her receiving room, and Mama wants me to get started on the embroidery for the pillows.”

“But, Ellie, the Feyreisen is coming!”

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. The Feyreisen? Despite her well-founded fear of magic, she’d dreamed all her life of seeing Rain Tairen Soul in the flesh.

Then common sense returned, and Ellie cast a stern sidelong glance at her sister. “Who told you that bit of silliness? Everyone knows the Feyreisen hasn’t stepped foot outside the Fading Lands in a thousand years.” Not since the end of the horrendous magical holocaust known as the Mage Wars.

“It’s not silliness!” Lorelle protested indignantly. “I heard it straight from Tomy Sorris.” Tomy Sorris, son of the printer, was the local town crier and usually well on top of the latest news and gossip.

Ellie was unimpressed. “Then Tomy’s been smelling too much printer’s ink.” She transferred the dough back into its rising bowl and covered it with a damp cloth.

“He has not!” A stamp of one small foot expressed the child’s outrage.

“Well, perhaps he’s just misinformed then,” Ellie replied. If Rain Tairen Soul were coming, they’d have heard about it long before now. The Fey who’d once nearly destroyed the world in a rage of tairen flame wouldn’t simply end his thousand-year exile without someone knowing about it in advance.

With a few quick swipes of a clean cloth, she swept the light dusting of flour off the tabletop into her palm and disposed of it in the waste bin beneath the kitchen sink. She cranked the sink pump twice and rinsed her floury fingers beneath the resulting cold spurt of water, and cast a glance back over her shoulder at Lorelle.

“Besides, why would the Feyreisen come here? He never had much use for mortals even before the Wars.”

She recalled a story in the yesterday’s paper about a small caravan of travelers attacked near the Borders by dahl’reisen, the frightening mercenaries who’d once been Fey warriors before being banished from the Fading Lands for the darkness in their souls. Would Rain Tairen Soul come to Celieria because of that?

She dismissed the idea instantly. All her life she’d heard tales of dahl’reisen raids—such tales were so common they were used to frighten small children into behaving—but none of those stories had ever lured the King of the Fey beyond the Faering Mists that circled the Fading Lands. No, Lorelle must be wrong.

Ellie untied her apron and hung it on a wooden peg in the corner of the modest, cozy Baristani family kitchen and smoothed slender hands over her serviceable tan muslin skirts. Her shirtsleeves were bunched up around her elbows, and she tugged the plain cuffs back down to her wrists, unable to stifle a wistful sigh as she imagined a fall of ivory lace draped over her hands. It was, of course, a foolish daydream. Lace would only get dirty and torn as she went about her chores.

She smiled at Lorelle, whose pout had now become an outright scowl. “Come now, kitling, don’t be cross. I’ll take you to the park instead. It won’t take up the whole day, it’s bound to be less crowded, and we can still have a fine time.”

Lorelle crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to go to the park. I want to see the Feyreisen.”

Before Ellie could reply, Lorelle’s twin Lillis came skipping into the kitchen, all atwitter. A mirror image of her twin, Lillis would have been indistinguishable from Lorelle except for the radiant excitement stamped on her face, which contrasted vividly with Lorelle’s dark scowl. “Ellie! Ellie! Guess what!”

Ellie made a show of widening her eyes with exaggerated interest. “What?”

“The Feyreisen is coming, and Mama says you can take us to see him enter the city tomorrow!”

“Ha!” Lorelle exclaimed. “I told you so!”

This time the breath that caught in Ellie’s throat stayed there. Tomy Soris might have sniffed too much printer’s ink, but Mama was never wrong. Seeking confirmation, Ellie glanced towards the door.

“Mama? Is it true? Is the Feyreisen really coming to Celieria?”

Lauriana Baristani nodded, her fingers deftly untying the bow of her large brimmed sun hat as she crossed the threshold and entered the kitchen. There was a light of excitement in her eyes that Ellie had never seen before. “It’s true,” she confirmed.

Ellie watched in astonishment as her mother tossed her hat and woven shawl over the back of a nearby chair rather than hanging them neatly on the wooden pegs provided for that purpose. Her mother was a firm believer in a place for everything and everything in its place. Something was going on, something that had nothing to do with the unexpected ambassadorial visit from a twelve-hundred year old Fey who could turn himself into a tairen.

“Mama?” She picked up the hat and shawl and hung them in their place. “What is it?” She gave her mother a searching look. Lauriana was a handsome woman in her mid fifties, with a solid build and strong arms that could help her husband move heavy pieces of handcrafted furniture or hug her children close. She had the same rich brown hair as the twins, though her soft ringlets were threaded liberally with silver, and her eyes were a pleasant hazel. Her brown dress was neatly made of sturdy, sensible cloth, and her shoes were sturdy, sensible brown leather to match. But at the moment, she did not look sensible at all. She looked…giddy.

“Oh, Ellie, you won’t believe it!” Lauriana reached out to grasp Ellie’s hands. “Queen Annoura,” she said, squeezing Ellie’s fingers tight, “sent Lady Zillina to commission your father to produce a special carving in the Feyreisen’s honor. He’s to have it finished and ready to present to the Feyreisen at the Prince’s betrothal ball!” When Ellie gasped again and the twins squealed, Lauriana beamed and nodded. “Commissioned by the queen. At last!”

“Oh, Mama,” Ellie breathed. “Papa must be singing with pride!” After ten years as a master woodcarver, Sol Baristani had finally received a coveted royal commission. When word got out, nobles and rich merchants would be banging down his door to commission his work. Money, always rather scarce in the Baristani household, was sure to flow into the family coffers.

Lauriana flashed her eldest daughter a devilish grin. “And won’t that just put Madam Rich and Snooty Minset’s knickers in a twist?”

“Mama!” Ellie gasped, giving her mother a shocked look.

Her mother – definitely not her staid and sensible self – laughed out loud, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, that was evil. Just evil.”

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh herself. It was so unlike her calm unflappable mother to say something nasty, even about the social climbing Madam Minset, the banker’s wife. Though if ever a woman deserved something nasty said about her, Madam Minset did – and that went double for her daughter Kellisande.

“But Mama, why is the Feyreisen coming to Celieria?”

Lauriana shrugged. “No one knows, but it’s sure to be a spectacle. And I promised Lillis you would take her and Lorelle to see the Feyreisen.” Ellie stared in surprise, and her mother blushed a little. “I know what you’re thinking, and this doesn’t mean I approve of Fey sorcerers. I don’t. Not in the least. But, the Bright Lord did select Rain Tairen Soul as the vehicle through which He has delivered this latest blessing upon our family. I wouldn’t want Him to think us ungrateful. You will take the girls, won’t you?”

Ellie glanced at Lorelle, who was now sporting a grin as large as a dairy cow, and had to laugh. “Of course I will,” she agreed. The twins shrieked with happiness and danced about the kitchen.

No matter how dreadful her nightmares, Ellie would never have missed this once in a lifetime opportunity to see the one and only Rain Tairen Soul. He was living history, the Fey who’d once in a fit of grief-induced madness almost destroyed the world.

How many ballads had been written about that terrible day? How many plays? Celieria’s Museum of Arts held no less than twenty enormous oil paintings that commemorated the entire series of events, masterpieces painted by Celieria’s greatest artists over the past thousand years. Ellie couldn’t count the number of times she’d stood in front of Fabrizio Chelan’s immortal, “Death of The Beloved”, and wept at the unspeakable anguish the great master had depicted on the face of Rain Tairen Soul as he held Lady Sariel in her death swoon and cried out to the heavens.

To see Rain Tairen Soul in the flesh. It was more than she’d ever dreamed possible.

She wagged a finger at the twins. “You two had best plan to go to bed early. We leave at the break of dawn, so we can be sure to find a place with a good view.”

Her mother shook her head. “You and your love of the Fey.” But for once, she didn’t add her usual lecture about the evils of magic and the danger of temptations that wore a pretty face.

Though Ellie shared her mother’s fear of magic, all things Fey had still fascinated her since she was a small child. “That doesn’t mean I’m any less excited about your news, Mama.” She reached out to grasp her mother’s hands. “Indeed, I want you to tell me everything. What, exactly, did Lady Zillina say? Don’t leave out a single detail.”

Lauriana pulled up a stool and related the whole exciting event, including the ultimate pleasure of having Stella Morin, the neighborhood’s biggest gossip, witness the whole event. She’d come into the shop to tell Lauriana that Donatella Brodson, the butcher’s youngest daughter, was officially contracted to wed the third son of a wealthy silk merchant.

“Oh,” Lauriana snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. Den is coming for dinner tonight.”

“Den?” Ellie repeated with dismay. Den Brodson, the butcher’s son, was a stuffed pork roast of a young man. And ever since his first wife had died in childbirth six months ago, he’d been following her around like a starving hound on the trail of a juicy steak. He’d made a habit of catching her in dark corners, standing so close she could smell the reek of onions and bacon on him, and looking too intently down the neckline of her dresses as if he could see straight through the fabric to the soft curves beneath. His thick fingers were ever clutching at her arm, as if he had some right to her. She shuddered with revulsion. She’d never liked him much, even as a child. Now he made her skin crawl.

Beside her the twins rolled their eyes, and clutched at their throats, making gagging noises. They didn’t like Den either.

“Mmm.” Lauriana paid no notice to the rolling eyes and gagging faces, but she did shoo the twins out of the kitchen. “Go play in your room, girls.” Then, to Ellie, “Wear your green dress, kit. It makes you look rather pretty.”

“Why would I want to look pretty for Den?”

A stern hazel gaze pinned her in place. The laughing, flighty Mama was gone. Practical, no-nonsense Mama was back. “You’re twenty-four, Ellysetta. That’s long past time to be making a good match and starting your own family. Look at your friends. All of them long since married, with at least one child walking and another on the way.”

“Kellisande’s not wed,” she reminded her mother.

“Yes, but Kellisande’s not lacking for offers.” The stern look in Lauriana’s eyes remained the same, but her voice softened. “She’s got beauty, girl, and wealth. You don’t.”

Ellie ducked her head to hide the glimmer of tears that sprang to her eyes. She knew she was no beauty. She’d seen her own reflection often enough to know that. And Kellisande Minset had always been happy to point out her shortcomings in case she missed them.

“Even though you’ve got a fine kind heart,” Lauriana continued, “and a strong back to make any man a treasured helpmate, young lads and their parents don’t look for those blessings first. The lads want beauty. The parents want wealth. The queen’s commission will probably be enough to bring Den’s family up to scratch, but you don’t have the time to wait for Papa to make a fortune so you can take your pick of men.” Unspoken was the common knowledge that if a girl was not wed by twenty-five, she was obviously defective in some way. Spinsters were to be pitied – and watched carefully lest the hand of evil that had blackened their futures laid its shadow over those around them.

Ellie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was obvious her mother had already decided whom Ellie would marry. “But I don’t love Den, Mama.” To her horror, her voice wobbled.

“Ellysetta.” There was a rustle of skirts and then the unexpected warmth of her mother’s arms wrapping around her thin shoulders and drawing her close. “Ah, girl. This is my fault.” Lauriana sighed. “I should have done my duty by you long ago. But you were such an…awkward…creature, and we were poor. I thought you’d never be wed, so where was the harm in letting you keep your dreams?”

Awkward. Such a mild euphemism for the fearful truth Mama never voiced. Ellie knew her parents loved her, as did Lillis and Lorelle. But that had not stopped her from hearing the talk of others—or seeing the fear that Mama could never quite hide whenever…things… happened around Ellie.

“But you’ve changed Ellie, and so have our circumstances. You’ve grown rather pretty in your own way, and this royal commission puts a few coins in our coffers with the promise of more to come. Look at me child.” Obedient to the command and the accompanying hand raising her chin, Ellie met her mother’s solemn gaze. “Life is never certain, Ellie. This is your chance to wed, and you must take it.”

“But, Mama –”

Lauriana held up a silencing finger. “Despite everything that happened when you were young, I’ve never curbed your love of Feytales or your dreams of truemates and happy endings, but that’s for Fey, not mortal folk like us. We don’t have centuries to wait for true love.”

“I know that, Mama.”

“Love will come in time, Ellie.”

“But not with Den, Mama!” How could it, when the very thought of his touch revolted her?

“Hush! You’ve not even given him a chance, Ellysetta. Den’s not a bad sort, and he’s certainly shown interest in you these last few months. His family’s well-enough, both in manner and position, and your children would never lack for food. Believe me when I tell you there’s nothing worse for parents than hearing a child cry for food they cannot provide. Even if that child is not of their own blood.”

Ellie dropped her gaze as the reminder that she was not their natural child knifed through her. Almost twenty-four years ago, on a journey from Kreppes to Hartslea in the north, Sol and Lauriana Baristani had found an abandoned baby in the woods near Norban. A girl baby with a shock of orange hair and startling green eyes.

Despite the fact that they were grindingly poor—Sol’s hands stiff and nearly crippled by an accident that had left him unable to work as a journeyman woodcarver—they had taken in the baby rather than leaving it to die. And they had kept her, even while Sol barely eked out a living on pennies a week as an apprentice carpenter, his broken hands managing to hold hammer, nail, rasp, and lathe though they could no longer do the intricate detail work he loved.

They kept her even when mysterious, violent seizures afflicted her and the priests declared her demon-cursed. They’d even left their home in Hartslea rather than cast her out or give her into the Church’s keeping as the exorcists and the parish priest advised them to do.

After that, thankfully, the family fortunes changed. Sol’s hands had miraculously healed, and he’d been able to return to his first love, woodcarving. Ellie’s ghastly seizures had dwindled, then stopped almost completely—a fact that Mama attributed to Ellie swearing her soul into service of the Light at her first Concordia in the Church of Light.

Still, Ellie had never forgotten all they’d sacrificed on her behalf. Now there was a chance for her to wed, if not well at least well-enough. It would ensure that Lillis and Lorelle would have the opportunity to make a truly fine match.

“You must trust your parents to do what’s best, Ellysetta. For you and the family.”

“Yes, Mama,” she whispered. She owed them that much and more.

“I know he’s not the man you’ve dreamed of, but give Den a chance. And if another young man of good family asks to court you, we will consider his suit as well.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“And wear your green dress tonight.”

Ellie’s shoulders drooped. “Yes, Mama.”

* * *

That evening, Ellie donned her green dress and tried not to feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. At her mother’s insistence, she wore Lauriana’s bridal chemise beneath the green gown, and aged ivory lace fell over the backs of her hands, looking beautiful and feminine and delicate. Ellie wished she were wearing her own plain cuffs instead.

She stared hard at her reflection in the mirror. Startling green eyes stared back at her, looking too big in a too wan face, accentuated by prominent cheekbones and a slender nose. In the last year or so, her eyebrows and eyelashes had darkened to a deep auburn shade. The slashing wings of her brows were now exotic rather than pale and washed out, and once her eyelashes had darkened, their thickness and length had become quite apparent. She had been grateful for that, though at this moment she could have cheerfully wished them back to the transparent pale orange shade of her childhood. Her mouth was too wide, she acknowledged critically, her lips too full and too red. Her teeth, however, were white and straight, one of her best features.

She decided not to smile tonight—at least not so she showed any teeth.

She had ruthlessly subdued her wild tangle of hair into a knot on the top of her head, and for once was glad of its bright, unfashionable color and the rather severe style. She stepped back from the mirror. Unfortunately, Mama had been right about the dress making her look nice. The green color was flattering, and the bodice, laced tight to push up her breasts, made her look slender rather than skinny. She was still too tall to be considered feminine by Celierian standards. Flat-footed, she could look Den straight in the eye. Ellie thrust her feet into her highest heels and immediately grew three inches.

Satisfied that she’d done exactly as her mother asked, and as much as possible to mitigate any hint of prettiness, Ellie made her way downstairs to the family parlor.

Den was already there, sitting across from her father on one of Sol Baristani’s finely carved settees and chewing a chocolate caramel with relish. His stocky body was clothed in what looked to be a new dark blue plaid suit, cut just the tiniest bit too tight, with a yellow neckcloth tied in folds about his thick neck. A gold pin, shaped like a rather ungainly bear, glinted from the folds of the neckcloth. His brown hair, greased with a strongly scented pomade, was slicked back from his face, with a puff of curls carefully formed at the top of his broad forehead. His skin was ruddy, his nose partly flattened from a series of childhood scuffles, and his eyes were pale blue rimmed with stubby black lashes.

He was attractive enough, in a rough, butcher’s son sort of way. That wasn’t what bothered Ellie.

He looked up, caught sight of her, and jumped to his feet and crossed the room to stand uncomfortably close to her. His gaze swept over her, then homed in on the swell of bosom thrust up against the delicate fabric of her mother’s best chemise. A bosom that was three inches closer to his face thanks to her decision—poorly considered she now realized—to wear high heels. His tongue came out to lick his full lips.

That was what bothered Ellie.

Fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest, she forced a stiff little smile—no teeth—and said, “Good evening, Den. How nice that you could join us tonight.”

“You look very pretty, Ellysetta.” That came from Papa, of course. Den was still salivating over her bosom.

“Thank you, Papa.” She was grateful for the warm love shining from Sol Baristani’s eyes. And for his presence in the parlor. The gods only knew what Den would have tried had they been alone. Judging from the look on his face, she wouldn’t have liked it much.

“Mmm. Yes,” Den agreed, licking his lips again. “Very pretty.” His pale blue gaze traveled up her neck and paused for several seconds on her mouth. When finally he met her own gaze head on, there were spots of color in his cheeks.

For a moment she imagined she felt a disturbing hunger. His hunger, she realized, and it wasn’t for food. Sudden panic roiled inside her, tying her stomach in knots, and making her break out in a clammy sweat. If he touched her, she knew she would be sick.

“Ah, Ellysetta. Good.” Mama’s voice snapped through the strange emotions that had captured Ellie, and she dragged in a gasp of air. No wonder she felt ill. She’d held her breath until she was dizzy!

“—to ask you to help me in the kitchen,” Lauriana was saying, “but I’ve changed my mind. You look far too pretty to risk soiling your gown in the kitchen. Don’t you agree, Den?” It was an embarrassing maternal attempt to draw a compliment from Den, but the young man didn’t hesitate to oblige her.

“Indeed, Madam Baristani.” Den bowed at the waist as if he were a Lord’s son rather than a butcher’s. “Ellysetta looks lovelier than I have ever seen her.” The smug smile was back.

“Sol, perhaps you would give me a hand instead?” Lauriana suggested with a pointed look.

Ellie’s eyes went wide with panic. “I don’t mind helping you, Mama!” She heard the shrill desperation in her voice. “Really, I don’t.”

“Nonsense. You stay here and entertain your young man. Your father is happy to help me.” As they exited the room, her mother flashed an indulgent smile at Den and said in a coy entirely un-Mama-like voice, “We won’t be but a few chimes, children.”

There was no mistaking her humiliating obvious scheme, and Den was quick to take up the unspoken invitation. As soon as Lauriana’s skirts disappeared down the hall, he stepped closer to Ellie, his square hands reaching for her. She stumbled backwards to escape his pursuit, only to find herself backed into a corner, trapped between his arms, staring in horrified revulsion as his thick, wet lips tried to attach themselves to hers.

Ellie escaped the kiss with a quick twist of her body, and tried to duck under his arm. She wasn’t quite quick enough, and her slender muscles were no match for his solid bulk. After a brief, undignified tussle, she found herself back in the corner, pulled tight against his body.

“Come on, Ellie.” His breath was starting to come a little faster. “We both know why your parents left us alone. There’s no need to play the coy maiden. I don’t want anything more than a kiss or two.” He grinned, showing two rows of sharp and slightly crooked teeth. “For now.”

“Den, we hardly know each other.”

He laughed. “We’ve known each other since childhood, Ellie.”

“But not like this…we’ve just been…er…friends.” They’d never been friends. He’d been a taunting bully who liked to make her cry.

“I want to be more than friends now.” His hands roved over her waist, and his lips descended, glancing off her cheek as she jerked her head away. Den drew back his head and chuckled. “I’ve been watching you for some time now, Ellie,” he murmured, his voice thick and possessive. “Granted, you weren’t much to look at as a kid, all orange hair, freckles, and knobby knees. But lately, you’ve started to show a little promise.” That smug, secret smile flashed again, and one thick-fingered hand came up to cup her chin. “I’ve decided to make you my wife, Ellie Baristani.”

He didn’t ask. He just said it, as if she had no choice in the matter. She stared at him, aghast, wondering how in the names of all the gods she was going to get out of this with any measure of grace. “Den, you…er…honor me, but—”

“Ssh.” The hand on her chin moved to cover her mouth. “There’s no need to say anything.” Her eyes widened in outrage and sudden fear as the hand on her mouth clamped down harder, and Den lowered his head to her neck.

Her stomach lurched as something warm and wet touched her skin. Was that his tongue? A stinging pain at the base of her throat made her yelp against his silencing hand. The little bloat toad had bitten her! He sucked at the spot he’d just bitten, and once more that warm, wet tongue licked at her. Oh, gods, she was going to be sick!

Outraged and repulsed, she grabbed two handfuls of his hair and yanked. Hard. She kicked his shins, too. He just grunted and shoved her against the wall, pinning her with the heavy, unmovable weight of his stocky body. Before she could draw breath enough to scream, his mouth was on hers. His lips were wet and slippery, and that horrid tongue was on the loose again, this time trying to get inside her mouth.

Without warning, one hand closed around her breast. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to scream. It was exactly the wrong reaction, and one he’d obviously been counting on. His hand shot up to hold her jaw open, and his tongue thrust deep into her mouth. Her screams, muffled by his mouth, came out as frantic little squeals that seemed only to excite him further.

Never in her life had Ellie been assaulted this way. Where were her parents? How could they have abandoned her to this…this…mauling?

Beneath the revulsion and feeling of helplessness, a darker emotion burst into smoldering life. A wild, fierce anger. Her skin flashed hot and tingling, drawing tight as if something inside her flesh were struggling to get out.

Terror grabbed her by the throat as the room began to tremble.

* * *

Two hundred miles away, beside a campfire burning in the chilly night, Rain Tairen Soul felt a woman’s emotions stab into him. Fear. Outrage. Desperation. He leapt to his feet, his nostrils flaring as if he could scent the emotions on the wind. His mind raced to find their path, to identify their source.

Another wave of feelings arrowed into him. Revulsion. Rage. Then stark terror. A wordless cry screamed in his mind. She was calling out to him. She was afraid and he was not there to protect her.

He flung himself from the ground into the sky, flashing instantly into tairen-form. Flames scorched the night sky and his roar of fury rent the air as he followed the path of the mind that called out to him in fear.

But then, as suddenly and the call had come, it fell silent. Confused by the abrupt termination of the connection, Rain faltered in mid flight. His fury was still there. Licks of flame still curled from his muzzle and venom pooled in the reservoirs in his fangs, but his rage had lost its focus. The woman’s fear and desperation were gone, no longer fueling his wrath. Banking right, he circled the sky and reached out with his mind, trying to find the one who had called. He found nothing but silence and the worried calls of the Fey warriors he’d left behind. Then the even more worried call of Marissya.

The warriors, he might have ignored, but not Marissya. All Fey men were bound to protect the females of their race, even from worry.

**Rain?** Marissya didn’t try to hide the concern in her mental voice. She was a mere century older than Rain, had known him all his life. She was his friend. **What happened?**

**She called out to me. She was afraid.**

**Who?**

He hesitated. **I don’t know.** Keen tairen eyes pierced the night. Far away in the distance, he saw the glow of Celieria. **But I’m going to find out.** He dipped one wing and banked again, heading towards the city in the distance.

* * *

Ellie sat at the dinner table and couldn’t stomach the thought of putting food in her mouth. The terrifying anger and the disturbing sensation in her skin had passed almost as quickly as they’d come, with none but Ellie the wiser. Though she could have sworn the parlor had actually trembled, no one else appeared to have sensed it. Was she going mad now? Had the demons that had haunted her youth found a different, more subtle way to work their evil on her?

Ellie knew not to let herself get upset. All her life, she’d worked to keep her emotions in check lest she accidentally trigger another seizure. She forced herself to take deep, even breaths, and filled her mind with calming thoughts.

Still, as she glanced at her mother from beneath her lashes, she couldn’t quell a spurt of anger and resentment as Lauriana made pleasant small talk – small talk! – with Den Brodson. How could Mama even contemplate wedding Ellie to that odious rultshart?

Did Mama know what Den had been doing in the parlor? She had to have known. She’d made a series of intentionally loud noises before coming back in. What had that been all about except to let Den know he should stop his assault on Ellie? He had, thankfully. With a final wet kiss and a last painful squeeze of her breast, Den had released her and said, “You’ll do, Ellie.” As if she were a haunch of beef he was approving from the slaughterhouse.

Ellie’s relief at being freed had rapidly turned into a sense of betrayal. How could Mama know what Den had been doing and not be outraged? Surely Mama didn’t know about that awful pink slug of a tongue.

Outrage and resentment clashed inside her. She was not going to marry Den Brodson. Not now. Not ever. Anger flared, quick and hot.

Suddenly, there was a feeling in her mind. A probing touch, as if someone or something was trying to reach inside her head. She had a distant sense of scarcely banked fury and a stronger a sense of something powerful rushing towards her with grim purpose.

Ellie’s spoon clattered to the table. Everyone looked at her in surprise.

“Ellie?” Papa’s brown eyes radiated concern. “Are you alright, kit?”

She put a shaking hand to her head. “I – I think so, Papa.” The feeling was gone. Had it been her imagination? Another sign of impending madness? She forced a wan smile and tugged at the neck of her chemise. “I mean, yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“What’s that on your neck?” Lorelle was staring at the spot where Den had bitten Ellie’s neck, the spot that Ellie had unwittingly just uncovered.

In an instant, everyone was staring at Ellie’s neck. Embarrassed, she clapped a hand over the spot. She hadn’t looked in a mirror. Had Den left a mark on her?

Apparently so, because her father was now staring hard at Den. That shameless klat just smiled his smug smile and met her Papa’s gaze straight on. Mama’s eyes darted from her husband to her daughter’s suitor. There was a look in Mama’s eyes that made Ellie’s heart stutter. Embarrassment faded—even fear of what was happening to her faded—as worry slithered up Ellie’s spine.

“Girls,” Papa said. Ellie had never heard his voice sound so emotionless, so hard. “Go to your rooms.” The twins jumped to their feet and scurried out. “You, too, Ellysetta.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t take his unblinking gaze from Den’s.

Ellie did not immediately obey. Did her parents not know what Den had done to her after all? Was it possible that they hadn’t left her alone with him in the parlor for that very reason?

“Papa?”

“Go!” he barked, and Ellie all but fell over herself rushing from the room. Snatching up fistfuls of heavy green skirts, she raced for the stairs and took them two at a time, not slowing down until she was ensconced in the safety of her small bedroom.

Needing to know exactly what sort of mark Den had left on her, she went to the small dressing table tucked in the corner of her room. Her fingers shook as she struck a match and lit the oil lamp on the table. Soft golden light filled the room. Ellie leaned close to the mirror, tugging the neck of her chemise to one side to reveal a small, dark, oval mark at the base of her throat. In the golden glow of lamplight, the mark looked like a smudge of soot. She rubbed at it, but it didn’t come off. She felt invaded somehow, violated, and suddenly very afraid of what was going on downstairs.

She sat on the edge of her bed, and waited. She didn’t know how long she sat there. It seemed like bells before she heard the creak of the stairs and the slow clomp, clomp of her father’s boots. She rushed to her bedroom door and pulled it open.

“Papa?”

There was disappointment and sadness in his eyes when he looked at her. “Go to bed, Ellysetta. It’s getting late.” He looked tired and worn. Old.

“But, Papa…about Den.” What could she say? She couldn’t very well tell her father about the embarrassing things he’d done to her. “I…I know Mama thinks he’s a good match, but Papa…I don’t like him. Please, I don’t want to marry him.”

Her father stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and turned away. “Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“But Papa – ”

He just continued walking down the hall and into his room, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Ellie returned to her own room and undressed in shadowy darkness, hanging the green gown and her mother’s chemise in the small wardrobe resting against the wall. She didn’t want to wear either of them again as long as she lived.

After donning a cotton nightdress, she sat down beside the window and unpinned her hair. It spilled down her back in long, springy coils. Brushing it with steady strokes, she stared out at the night sky. Both the large moon called the Mother and the small moon called the Daughter were three-quarters full. It was a bright night.

Please, she prayed silently, fervently, hoping the Celierian gods would hear her. Please send me someone else. Anyone else but Den. She laid the brush in its place on her dressing table and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and closing her eyes.

She didn’t see the shadow fall across her room as the light from the Mother was blotted out by a large black tairen winging through the night. She didn’t see the lavender eyes, glowing like beacons, turn their light upon the rooftops of Celieria. Searching. Seeking.

Chapter Two

Beautifully and fearfully wrought, by dread magic splendored,

With passion’s fire his soul does burn, in sorrow his name be whispered

from the epic poem Rainier’s Song by Avian of Celieria

Celieria’s main thoroughfare was already lined four deep when Ellie and the twins arrived at seven the next morning. News that the Tairen Soul himself would be coming had raced like wildfire throughout the city, and Ellie was convinced that before ten bells every man, woman, and child in the city would be lining the streets to ogle the legendary Feyreisen, Rain Tairen Soul, the man-beast who had once almost destroyed the world.

She sighed and began searching for a place from which to watch the forthcoming spectacle. About halfway between the city gates and the royal palace, she found a grassy knoll bordering one of the city’s many small parks. From atop the knoll, the children would have an unimpeded view of the Fey procession and still be close enough to see everything.

Sending the twins off to play while they waited for the procession to begin, Ellie spread her brown skirts and sat down without a care for grass stains or the morning dew that dampened her dress. Her mind was still chasing itself in circles worrying over what had passed between Den and her parents last night. She still didn’t know. Papa had already been gone when she came downstairs for breakfast, and Mama had told her they would talk after she returned from the Fey procession. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad was about to happen.

Her sleep had been tormented by more dreams. Not the familiar, violent dreams of blood and death or the dark, malevolent nightmares that had haunted her most of her life, but new, frightening dreams of fiery anger and pale purple eyes, of a soundless voice that called to her, demanding that she reply. She remembered tossing and turning, remembered trying to block out those eyes and that insistent voice. Not until close to dawn had she finally found peace.

Now, staring up at the bright blue morning sky, with the Great Sun glowing like a huge golden ball, she could almost pretend that the dreams were nothing more than her imagination running wild. That worry about the situation with Den was to blame. That everything would be all right and life would return to its pleasant, comfortable routine.

She didn’t believe it for a moment.

* * *

Twenty miles outside the city, two hundred Fey warriors and one Fey Lord traveled at a fast lope down the broad road that cut a swath though the Celierian landscape of lush fields dotted by small villages. Farmers and villagers bordered the road in small groups, having come with their families as they always did to see the immortal Fey run past. This year, however, their attention was directed not at the road, but overhead where Marissya v’En Solande rode the wind on the back of a massive black tairen–the infamous Rain Tairen Soul himself.

The Fey had broken camp three bells before dawn and resumed their trek to Celieria at a fast clip. Marissya ran with them until Rain returned just as the Great Sun began to light the sky, then she continued the journey on tairen-back, allowing the warriors to resume their normal, easily sustainable run. They had traversed the next seventy miles in just under three bells.

All knew that something had disturbed Rain the night before and that he had gone in search of the source of the disturbance. But he had not spoken of it since his return, and not even Marissya could get him to talk.

When they neared the city, Rain landed, lowered Marissya to the ground, and shifted back into Fey-form. He paced restlessly as Marissya and the Fey prepared themselves for their ceremonial entrance into the city.

Marissya shed her brown traveling leathers for a red gown that covered her from chin to toe and a stiff brimmed hat draped with a thick red veil that covered her face. Her waist length dark hair was braided and tucked out of sight. The garb would have been hot and stifling had her truemate, Dax, not woven a cool web of Air around her. She was a shei’dalin, a powerful Fey healer and Truthspeaker, and none who were not Fey or kin were permitted to look upon her outside of council.

All around her, two hundred Fey warriors donned gleaming black leathers and spent at least half a bell polishing and re-sheathing the scores of blades each warrior wore when he left the Fading Lands. Her mate Dax, clad in the dark red leathers of a truemated Fey Lord, tended his own weapons with similar care. Though he was no longer of the warrior class—no Fey Lord was permitted to put his mate at risk by continuing to dance with knives—his blades would always stand between her and danger.

Marissya finished her physical preparations long before the men, and she went to join Rain. It has been many years since she’d seen him in such a state. He was restless, edgy, pacing back and forth with short, rapid steps. There was so much power in him, so scarcely contained that a shining aura surrounded him, flashing continuously with tiny sparks. His eyes glowed fever-bright. His nostrils quivered as if he were an animal scenting something in the air that set him on edge. If he’d been in tairen form, he would have been spouting flame. He was still in control of himself – she and all the Fey would have known if he were not – but he was in a high state of agitation and that did not bode well for the long day ahead.

She knew better than to touch him. One didn’t touch raw power without receiving a shock. Instead, she reached out to him on their private mental path, the one they had forged centuries ago in friendship. **Rain, be calm.** She sent a soothing wave of reassurance along with the words, not surprised when he shrugged it off and continued pacing.

**She is there. For a moment last night I was in her mind, then I lost her again.** Frustration boiled through the link.

**Who, Rain? Who is there?**

He snapped around, eyes flashing. His long, elegant hands clenched and unclenched. His chest heaved. He was angry and frustrated, yes, but now Marissya realized it was more than that.

**She is.** he snapped. **She! The one!** And then, the one word she was sure to understand. The one word that explained everything. He shouted it out loud: “Shei’tani!”

There was a sudden clattering whoosh of sound followed by absolute silence as two hundred Fey warriors jerked around to stare at their king in stunned disbelief.

Marissya’s breath left her in an astonished gasp. **But that cannot be.**

**It can be nothing else.**

The tumult of Rain’s emotions blasted over their mental link, and she stumbled back in shock, recognizing those feelings for exactly what they were. Her mind reached instinctively for her truemate, sharing the shocking truth of Rain’s emotions with him.

Their gazes met across the distance, and as one they turned to look at their king.

He was pacing restlessly once more. Every few moments his head turned towards Celieria and the power in him burned a little brighter. They both knew the instincts driving him, knew that because he was the Tairen Soul those instincts would be far more intense and far harder to control, fueled by both Fey and tairen passions combined. If they weren’t very careful, the coming days could end in disaster.

* * *

As she caught sight of the Feyreisen riding the wind in tairen-form, Ellie acknowledged that just a glimpse of him was well worth the interminable wait and jostling crowds. Long before the actual Fey warriors drew near, Ellie and the twins saw Rain Tairen Soul soaring through the sky. He was all that legend claimed, and more. A gigantic, ferocious black feline with glowing purple eyes, frightening and beautiful all at the same time. He winged like a raptor over the city, circling again and again, emitting warning bursts of fire when the thronging crowd moved too close to the approaching Fey. Even from a distance, she could see the glistening danger of his sharp, venom-filled fangs. His ears were laid back on his head, his claws extended.

When the Fey warriors themselves came into view, the sight of them was almost equally as awe inspiring as the Tairen Soul. There were at least twice as many warriors as had ever come before. Row after impeccably formed row marched into view, and for the first time in Ellie’s memory, magic surrounded them in a visible glowing aura of light.

A murmur of wonderment rose up from the crowd.

The Fey warriors presented a stunning display, clad in black leather from neck to toe and bristling with silvery swords and knives that gleamed in the sunlight. Every Fey warrior clutched two long, curving blades called meicha, and what seemed like hundreds of razor sharp throwing knives called Fey’cha were tucked into leather belts that crisscrossed their chests. If that weren’t enough, each warrior wore two massive seyani long swords strapped to their backs.

It was said that one Fey warrior was as lethal as ten champions. Looking at their fierceness, their precision, and the tangible glow of magic enveloping them, Ellie believed it.

In the center of the formation, surrounded by an even brighter glow, walked a single unarmed figure draped in voluminous folds of blood red. It was the shei’dalin, the Truthspeaker, Marissya v’En Solande, and the handsome, dangerous-looking man in red leathers by her side was her truemate, the Fey Lord Daxian v’En Solande.

As the procession moved closer, the crowd surged forward, everyone straining for a better look. Rain Tairen Soul roared and spouted a warning flare of fire. Accompanied by many screams and uplifted heads, the crowd wisely jumped back.

In the sudden shifting of massed bodies, Lillis lost her footing and fell to the ground. She howled in pain when Lorelle, trying to avoid being knocked over herself, trod on her hand.

Ellie was there in an instant, hauling Lillis to her feet and inspecting the injury. The child’s little fingers were red, the skin slightly torn over one knuckle. “Oh, kitling. I’m so sorry. Would you like me to kiss it better?”

Lillis sniffled and nodded. “Yes, Ellie. You kiss the pain away better than anyone.”

Giving her a fond smile, Ellie raised the girl’s injured finger to her mouth. “Gods bless and keep you, kitling,” she murmured and kissed the little finger. A tiny electric current leapt from Ellie to her sister, making them both jump. Ellie laughed a little. “Sorry, Lilli-pet . I didn’t mean to shock you.”

Rain Tairen Soul whooshed overhead, roaring, the sound like a clap of thunder in the air.

Ellie straightened in time for her to see the Fey come to an abrupt halt, their curved meicha blades raised. The warriors immediately surrounding the Truthspeaker drew their long swords with a hiss of metal leaving scabbard.

The shei’dalin turned her head from side to side as if scanning the crowd. Beside her, her mate had razor-edged swords in hand and was ablaze with power.

The crowd went silent. From her vantage point on the knoll, Ellie watched with bated breath and clutched the twins to her side. She didn’t have any idea what was happening, but it was something unusual. Something important and frightening. The crowd around Ellie began shoving, everyone trying to get a better glimpse of what was going on.

“Lillis! Lorelle! Stay close to me!” She grabbed the twins and hugged them tight, afraid they were about to be pushed off the knoll into the trampling feet below.

Rain Tairen Soul roared again, clawing the air, now obviously agitated about something. Flame seared the air, followed by another roar of tairen fury. From the street, the shei’dalin raised her arms and shouted, “Rain! Nei!”

The crowd began to panic, and so did Ellie. Someone stumbled heavily into her back. She staggered and tried to keep her balance, but her leather shoes slipped on the grass. With a cry of alarm, Ellie toppled off the knoll. She fell forward, pushing the children to safety with one hand and reaching out with the other to break her fall. She landed hard and screamed in pain as a man’s boot heel stamped on her fingers, crushing the slender bones with a snap.

Pain and terror swamped her senses. People rushed madly around her, and another boot ground into her broken hand. She shrieked again. Barely able to think, certain she was about to die, she curled her body into a tight ball and brought her broken hand up over her head.

She was dimly aware that people were screaming around her. She didn’t see Rain Tairen Soul fold his wings and drop like a hurtling black meteor towards the ground. But something touched her senses, something made her realize that suddenly the sun was gone, and so were the people hurting her.

She glanced up and let loose another shrill cry of horror as the huge, terrifying black-winged tairen swooped down upon her, metamorphosing at the last minute into Rainier vel’En Daris Feyreisen, the infamous Rain Tairen Soul, who lightly stepped from sky to ground, one black booted foot at a time.

He towered over her huddled form. Death black hair hung in long, straight strands that blew about his face in the windy remnants of the tairen’s downdraft. His skin was pale and faintly luminescent, his face terrible in the perfection of its stunning masculine beauty, and his lavender eyes glowed with a brilliant, icy fire. With a wave of one hand, he threw up a towering cone of Air and Fire magic that surrounded the two of them in a whirling haze of white and red.

Ellie cowered in fear, and instinctively held up her broken hand to ward him away. With a sobbing gasp, she rolled to her feet and staggered back.

“Stay away!” she ordered hoarsely. Her heart was racing, her breath coming in fast, shallow gasps but she couldn’t seem to get any air. Had he used his magic to steal the breath from her lungs? She knew the Fey could do that sort of thing.

“Ver reisa ku’chae. Kem surah, shei’tani.” He spoke to her in a lyrical foreign tongue—Feyan, she realized, though she didn’t understand the words—and stepped towards her.

“No!” she cried out. For all she knew, he’d just told her to prepare for her impending death. “Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

He paused for a moment, frowning. “Ve ta dor. Ve ku’jian vallar.” Then Rain Tairen Soul came towards her again, his steps slow and resolute. He reached for her, ignoring the way she sobbed and flinched away from him. His fingers, strong and surprisingly warm, curled around her forearms and trapped her with effortless strength. She had the overwhelming sensation of immense power, deep sorrow, and a terrible longing. But underlying all of those was another emotion, a violent swirl of rage. She cried out and struggled to free herself, succeeding only in grinding the bones of her hand together. Agony knifed up her arm.

A scream ripped from her throat. She fell to her knees. Unexpectedly, she found herself free. She blinked and risked a glance up at the Feyreisen.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands clenched in white knuckled fists at his side. He was shaking as if he were in pain. His eyes flashed open again. The ice was still in them, and confusion, and more than a hint of madness.

She watched him fearfully, her body poised to flee if he came towards her again.

With the flick of his finger, he fashioned a door in the whirling cone of magic. His voice, deep, ancient, commanding, called out in Feyan.

A moment later, the Truthspeaker stepped through the doorway, followed closely by her mate. The Fey Lord had sheathed his swords and as he stepped inside the cone of magic the Feyreisen had erected, his own glow of power winked out. He followed a few feet behind his mate as she approached Ellie.

Though the shei’dalin’s face was hidden behind folds of red, she radiated waves of compassion and reassurance. Despite everything—including her own mind whispering that this was a Fey trick—Ellie felt her terror begin to abate. She needed to trust this woman. The Truthspeaker would never cause her harm. There was no need to be afraid. She could be calm. All would be well.

The soothing compassion, the compulsion to release her fear, was impossible to resist. Dazed, lulled by the powerful hypnotic spell of a Fey shei’dalin, Ellie didn’t protest when Marissya reached for her broken hand.

The Fey’s own long, pale fingers, slender and elegant, passed over Ellie’s. Warmth sank through Ellie’s skin and into the flesh and bone below. Her pain evaporated. A strange ticklish tingling spread across her hand, and she watched in astonishment as her bones straightened and knit. Within moments, her hand was whole and unhurt.

She flexed her fingers experimentally. There wasn’t the faintest twinge of pain.

Ellie swallowed the lump in her throat and raised awestruck eyes to the Fey woman. “How did you do that?”

“Eva Telah, cor la v’ali, Feyreisa.” The voice behind the veils sounded so peaceful, so soothing, so compassionate. Ellie wanted to sink into the comfort of that voice and absorb its tranquility. She fought off the lethargy with a brisk shake of her head.

“I don’t understand you.”

The Truthspeaker’s head jerked up. Though Ellie couldn’t see her eyes, she had a feeling the shei’dalin was staring at her in surprise. “You don’t speak the Fey tongue?”

“Only a word or two.” Ellie couldn’t understand why that would be so unusual. Had she offended them somehow? “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I read it fairly well, but very few Celierians still actually speak your language.”

“You are Celierian?”

Ellie blinked. “Of course.”

The Truthspeaker cast a glance over her shoulder. The Feyreisen was still staring at Ellie, and he was frowning. She began to inch backwards. Immediately, the shei’dalin turned back to her, lifting her heavy veil as she did so. Huge blue eyes, so full of compassion Ellie could drown in them, were smiling at her from a face so beautiful it would put a Lightmaiden to shame.

“Be at peace, little sister,” the shei’dalin murmured, and her hand came out to rest on Ellie’s. “Of all people, you need never fear Rainier.” As the Fey woman spoke, Ellie felt a faint pressure in her head, so slight she might not have noticed it had she not already been on edge. Her eyes widened as she realized the Truthspeaker was probing her mind. It was said a shei’dalin could strip a soul naked, leave even the strongest of men sobbing like infants. Truthspeakers could bend anyone to their will.

“No!” Ellie yanked her hand out of the Fey’s grip and imagined a gate of brick and steel slamming shut around her mind, thrusting out the invading consciousness.

The shei’dalin gave a muffled cry and staggered back. The Tairen Soul’s eyes flared bright, and a bubble of lavender light burst into glowing life around Ellie. A feral snarl rumbled from the Tairen Soul’s chest, and he bared his teeth like a wild animal on the verge of attack. In a blur, he leapt between Ellie and the shei’dalin. In the same instant, the shei’dalin’s mate also leapt forward.

**Get back!** The voice was in Ellie’s head, sharp, commanding. Somehow, she knew it had come from the Feyreisen.

Scared out of her wits, Ellie pushed against the purple light enveloping her, trying to escape before the two Fey warriors decided to slaughter her where she stood.

Instead, to her utter amazement, the Tairen Soul whirled on the shei’dalin and her mate. His hands rose, power arcing from his fingers in blinding flashes just as the other Fey Lord’s power snapped into blazing light and he sent a bright bubble of energy surging forth to wrap around his mate. Like his king, Daxian v’En Solande’s teeth were bared in naked menace, but that menace was directed solely at the Feyreisen.

The two men faced each other, faces drawn in fury, power bursting around them, scorching the air with the scent of ozone.

“Nei, Rain!” the Truthspeaker protested. Her voice wasn’t calm now. It was afraid. “Nei, shei’tan!” Then in Celierian, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Please, forgive me! Calm yourself. Guard your feelings.”

It took a startled moment for Ellie to realize the Truthspeaker was addressing her. “Me?”

“Yes! Can you not see he is protecting you?” Even as she spoke to the girl, Marissya sent a silent plea to Rain. **I’m sorry, Rain. I didn’t mean to frighten her. Please. She is unhurt. See for yourself. Be calm. You must be calm. It is you who frighten her now.** And to her truemate, whose thoughts and feelings she sensed as her own, **Dax, shei’tan, I am not hurt. She only surprised me. It is my fault. I should not have probed her. She felt it and was frightened. Rain responds to her fear, to protect her, as you protect me. Please, let go before someone gets hurt.**

Neither Rain nor Dax relaxed their grip on their power or their rage. It wasn’t surprising. A Fey Lord reacted violently to even the smallest perceived threat to his mate.

**Please, Rain. She needs you strong for her, in control of yourself. You must control the tairen in you. She was hurt, and you came. You protected her. She is safe.**

**She fears you.** Blazing half-mad lavender eyes pinned her. **I will not permit it.**

**I’m sorry. I – ** The weave of Fire and Air appeared without warning. With incredible speed and dexterity, Rain had rewoven the protective cone of magic, shutting Marissya and Dax out, closing himself and the Celierian girl within.

* * *

It took Rain several minutes to beat back the tairen’s fury, to shove it into a small corner of his mind and keep it there. Only then did he turn to face the woman whose emotions ripped at his sanity, her fear – of him, he knew, despite wanting to blame Marissya – tearing him in ways he’d never known. The web of Spirit he’d woven around her winked out as he released his power back to the elements. Still, she cowered from him. Rain would have torn out the heart of any other man who dared to frighten her this badly, yet he would not – could not – leave her.

“Come.” His tone was imperious, yet the hand he held out trembled. “I could never harm you, shei’tani.” His Celierian was rusty, deeply accented with Fey tones, and his attempt to appear non-threatening was equally out of practice. The tairen in him still clawed at the edges of his control, all fiery passion, possessiveness, and primitive instinct. “I am called Rainier.”

“I know.” Her eyes were huge in the too-thin oval of her face. Twin pools of verdant green, they stared at him as if he were a monster. “You scorched the world once. It’s in all the history books.”

“That was a very long time ago.” He tried to summon a smile, but the muscles in his face couldn’t seem to remember how to form one. “I promise you are safe with me.” His fingers gestured, beckoning her. “Come. Give me your hand.”

The exotic flares of her brows drew together in a suspicious frown. “Why? So you can try to invade my thoughts like the Truthspeaker?” Rain could see she was still afraid, very afraid, yet she was working hard to master it.

“I…apologize for Marissya. She had no right.”

“Then why did she do it?”

“She was…curious about you.” She had done it to find answers, of course. Answers to the questions of how a Celierian child-woman could wield the power he had felt, and more importantly how she could possibly be Rain’s shei’tani.

“Did she never think to just ask?” The asperity in her voice was unmistakable. Delicate, frightened shei’tani had steel in her spine after all.

“She will now. Believe me.” The tairen in him was slowly subsiding. It had ceased pounding the door of its cage and was now pacing restlessly within, edgy but contained. For the moment. But it, like him, had a great need to touch this woman. Once more he held out his hand. “Come. Give me your hand. Please.” The last was more a genuine plea than an afterthought. “I would give my life before allowing harm to come to you.”

Ellie stared at the outstretched hand in stunned silence. Was Rainier vel’En Daris, King of the Fey, truly standing before her, vowing to sacrifice his immortal life to protect her? Her, Ellie Baristani, the woodcarver’s odd, unattractive and embarrassingly unwed adoptive daughter? Surely, she was dreaming.

But this all seemed so real. And he was so beautiful. Beautifully and fearfully wrought. Her dazed mind supplied the quote from Avian’s classic epic poem, “Song of Rainier”. Avian, she now knew, had barely got the half of it. She had dreamed of Rain Tairen Soul all her life, and here he was. She felt herself moving towards him, her hand reaching out. He had asked, and she had to touch him. If only to be sure he was real.

Her fingers trembled as they slid into his. She trembled as his hand closed about hers. Warmth, like the spring heat of the Great Sun, spread through her body, and a sense of peace unlike anything she’d ever felt came over her. She heard him inhale deeply, watched his eyes flutter closed. A nameless expression, an unsettling mix of joy and pain, crossed his face.

He drew her closer, and she went without protest, dazed with wonder as his arms, so lean and strong, wrapped her in a close embrace. Her ear pressed against his chest. She felt the unyielding bristle of the countless sheathed knives strapped over his chest, heard the beat of his heart, and was oddly reassured. There was safety here, as there was no other place on earth.

She felt him bow his head to rest his jaw on her hair, the touch feather light. Tears beaded in her lashes at the simple beauty of it.

“Ver reisa ku’chae. Kem surah, shei’tani.” He whispered the words against her hair.

“You said that before,” she murmured. “What does it mean?” It sounded so familiar, like something she had heard or read somewhere before. She felt the stillness in him, the hesitation, and she pulled back to look up into his eyes.

His gaze moved slowly over her face as if he were committing her likeness to memory for all time. “I don’t even know your name.”

She blinked in surprise. Since the moment she had put her hand in his and he had pulled her into his arms, she felt like he knew everything there was to know about her. It was surprising and disconcerting to realize that, in fact, they knew each other not at all. “Ellie,” she told him solemnly. “My name is Ellysetta Baristani.”

“Ellie.” Liquid Fey accents savored the syllables of her simple name, making it something beautiful and exotic. “Ellysetta.” His pale, supple hand brushed the mass of her hair. His gaze followed the path of his fingers as they delved deeply into the untamable coils. “Ellysetta with hair like tairen flame and eyes the green color of spring. I’ve seen the mist of your reflection in The Eye of Truth.” His gaze returned to hers, filled with wonder and regret. “Ver reisa ku’chae. Kem surah, shei’tani. Your soul calls out. Mine answers, beloved.”

At last Ellie remembered why the Fey words seemed so familiar. She’d read them before in a slim volume of translated Fey poetry. It was the greeting a Fey man spoke to a woman when recognizing and claiming her as his truemate.

The strange buzzing in her ears was all the warning Ellie received before her knees buckled.

Today is the official release of C.L. Wilson’s Crown of Crystal Flame, the fifth book in her wildly popular and beautifully written Tarien Soul series. I have been a fan of this series since Book 1, Lord of the Fading Lands, and not once has Ms. Wilson let me down with her storytelling, her characters, her prose, and her emotion in all five books. So I wanted to celebrate with this hard-working, dedicated, and talented author, introduce her to those of you who may have yet to discover her and her books , and to also take a look back over the series as a whole.

I’ve, of course, read and reviewed all five of these books, and I never could do it justice with my woefully inadequate descriptions. I don’t think there’s a review out there that has captured the essence, the power, the beauty, and the emotion interwoven into each word, each page, each chapter, each book. All a reviewer can do with stories like these is hopefully give you enough something to pique your interest, to stir your heart, to turn on your curiosity to want to read them.

Thus, another reason I wanted to celebrate with you and C.L. today is in the hopes you might just want to make an extra run to the bookstore to finally have in hand these extraordinary books, especially now that all five are on the shelves. Ms. Wilson will be with us throughout the day, so if you’ve got questions after reading about her or going through the excerpts and reviews we’re going to share with you, leave a comment on any of the posts and we’ll make sure you get an answer.

I do want to tell you a little about C.L. Wilson and her books.

Like most authors, she started writing when she was very young, inspired by stories her mother would read to her. Then later she was inspired by JRR Tolkien and Ann McCaffrey to weave her own fantasy world, even going so far as to create the language spoken by her characters. She says fans will come up to her and actually speak Feyen to her during a book signing or other engagement.

But before that happened, Ms. Wilson did the usual sending manuscripts to publishers. And getting prompt rejection letters for all her stories, and, believe it or not, she even got a number of rejections for Tairen Soul. When I was lucky to have lunch with C.L. in San Francisco at the 2008 RWA conference, that’s a question I asked. I couldn’t believe someone out there had really turned her original book down. She looked straight at me, wide-eyed, and said, “You betcha.” I sure hope those people have found their brains since that time!

During this time C.L. also began to send her works in progress out to various contests. She was hoping for feedback rather than those darned rejection letters. However, the list is long and elite of the contest wins these books have won both before and after publication. There are many readers out there today who are quite happy that someone in the publishing industry finally woke up and smelled the coffee concerning C.L.’s original manuscript.

That original manuscript became two books, splitting the 1000 pages into easier-to-handle volumes, and Ms. Wilson was contracted to write more in the series, an additional two books. But the series seemed to take on a life of its own, Ms. Wilson’s characters wanted control, and, thus, the fifth book in the series was born.

Once readers were introduced to Rain and Ellysetta, the Fey, the Tairen, even the Mages of Eld, a literal snowball began. The books began to appear in hardcover. They were translated into other languages. A well-known artist even painted her rendition of the series fire-breathing, winged cats. C.L. says, “It’s as if Heather Carr lifted the [images] straight from my imagination and transferred [them] to canvas.”

Fantasy, love and romance, good and evil, death and rebirth, family are just the short list of what you’ll read in this series of books. Ms. Wilson has created a world with characters and a language all its own, with a power and beauty that will make you cheer, cry, groan, shout, smile, laugh, and will keep you turning page after page hour after hour. There’s not much more a reader can ask for.

Enjoy talking with C.L. today, reading previous reviews and excerpts as well as those of Crown of Crystal Flame, comment and ask questions. We have a full day planned for you, so come back often, things will be moving very quickly!

We also have a contest or two with prizes from C.L. – a signed copy of Crown of Crystal Flame and a few items of merchandise from the forthcoming Tairen’s Lair online store -  a Fading Lands T-shirt, a Steli coffee-mug, a shei’tanitsa claiming vow wall plaque. One comment per person per post today, please, for the contests – you may comment more than once per post for discussion purposes, but only your first comment will count for each contest. You never know where we’ll pick a winner from!

Have fun!

C.L. Wilson’s Tairen Soul series is one of those you will never forget. It’s a series of epic proportions on a number of levels covering five books, filled with an author’s imagination and heartfelt writing.

Crown of Crystal Flame brings the saga of Rain Tairen Soul and Ellysetta to an end with sweeping, hard-fought battles against evil mages, dragons, and a score of other creatures, as well as a few supposedly on the side of good; with emotion so bone deep from page to page a reader doesn’t know whether they’re coming or going; with love and romance that you hope culminates in a life finally free of hopelessness and betrayal. And so much more.

If you’ve not read this amazing series yet, take a moment to be awed by this excerpt, moved to pick up the first book to discover these strong and resilient characters and the story they live to fullest. You won’t stop reading until you’re read every last word in the series.

A Song of Love won her heart.
A Song of Darkness haunted her soul.
A Song in the Dance would seal her fate.

Seers had long foreseen an extraordinary destiny for Ellysetta Baristani. Already she had won the heart of the Fey King?the magnificent Rain, ever her ally, eternally her love. She had saved the offspring of the magical tairen and fought beside her legendary mate against the armies of Eld.

But the most powerful–and dangerous–Verse of her Song had yet to be sung.

As the final battle draws nigh and evil tightens its grip upon her soul–will Ellysetta secure the world for Light or plunge it into Darkness for all eternity? As she and Rain fight for each other, side by side, will they find a way to complete their truemate bond and defeat the evil High Mage of Eld before it’s too late, or must they make the ultimate sacrifice to save their world?

Prologue

Northern Celieria ~ 24^th day of Verados

Death raked like a knife across Ellysetta Baristani’s empathic soul. Talisa Barrial diSebourne was dead.  Killed by the Tairen venom in the deadly red Fey’cha her husband, Colum, had thrown at her Fey truemate, Adrial vel Arquinas.

Of Colum diSebourne—Talisa’s husband—there was no sign.

The scorch of ozone, the odor of powerful magic released with explosive force, still hung heavy in the air.  No one needed to draw Ellysetta a picture.  She’d felt Colum’s hate-filled fury, felt Talisa’s death.  Adrial’s wild, deadly Rage.  She’d sensed the moment Colum’s anger turned to terror, seen the unmistakable explosion of Adrial’s magic, and then….nothing.  A vacuum of emotion, the utter stunned silence of disbelief, followed at last by grief and accusation and a chaotic whirl of unchecked thoughts and feelings.

Colum had discovered his wife returning from the forest with her Fey lover, and he’d set into motion the series of events that had led to this: Talisa and Adrial dead.  Colum…simply gone.

“My son.”  Great Lord Sebourne—Colum’s father—stepped into the open space where his son had been.  His eyes swept the clearing.  His jaw thrust out aggressively.  “Where’s my son?”

“He’s gone,” Talisa’s father, the Great Lord Cannevar Barrial, answered in a bleak voice.  “They’re all gone.”   His sons Luce, Parsis and Severn stood in stricken silence beside him.  He swiped at the tears brimming in his eyes and glared as his neighbor.  “I hope you’re jaffing satisfied, Sebourne.”

Kneeling on the ground beside the bodies of Talisa and his brother, Rowan vel Arquinas fixed grief-stricken gaze on Ellysetta.  “Please Feyreisa.  Save them.  If anyone can, it’s you.”

Rowan’s ragged whisper spurred her to action.  She raced past the snarling Great Lords and dropped to her knees in the trampled grass and dirt beside the fallen truemates.

“Rain, try the shadar horn on Talisa,” she commanded.  A gift from the Elf  King, Galad Hawksheart, the curling horn from the magical horses called shadar was reputed to be an antidote to any poison—even irreversibly lethal tairen venom.

“Ellysetta,” Rain murmured.  He laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s too late, shei’tani.  They’re already gone.”

Her gaze shot up, pinning his.  “I have to at least try to save them,” she cried.  “You know I must.”

Compassion and understanding softened his expression.  “There’s nothing to be done.  They have passed beyond the Veil.  Even if you could call their souls back into their bodies, you would only summon them as demons, not as the friends we knew

The sounds of shouting made them turn.  Lord Sebourne and Lord Barrial were at each other’s throats, swords drawn.  All their men had blades in hand as well, ready—even eager—to spill their own countrymen’ s blood

“What are you thinking?” Ellysetta cried.  “Haven’t you had your fill of death?”

Though the Fey-Celierian treaty that prohibited Fey from manipulating of mortal thoughts with their magic—and though that was precisely the crime for which Adrial vel Arquinas had been sentenced to death—Ellysetta still did it.  She regarded the rage-filled men spun a weave of peace upon them.

“Sheathe your swords,” she commanded, infusing her voice with compulsion. “There will be no more killing here today.  Lord Barrial, Rowan, tend to your dead.  Lord Sebourne, mourn your son.  For the sake of the dear ones each of us have lost, let there be peace between us.”

Though Sebourne sheathed his sword, not even Ellysetta’s weave was enough to still his anger completely.

“Peace?” he spat.  “There will be peace when Celieria and her king are free of Fey manipulations and control.”  And then he turned to the king and declared, “Sebourne will not fight beside these Fey rultsharts. I will not spill one more drop of Sebourne blood on their behalf, or trust them at my back.  I pray gods you soon find the strength to cut free of their strings.”

Raising his voice, Great Lord Sebourne shouted, “Warriors of Sebourne!  Mount up.  We ride for Moreland!”

Chapter One

I watch my loved ones weep with sorrow,
deaths silent torment of no tomorrow.
I feel their hearts breaking, I sense their despair.
united in misery, the grief that they share.

How do I show that, I am not gone…
but the essence of life’s everlasting song
Why do they weep? Why do they cry?
I’m alive in the wind and I am soaring high.

I am sparkling light dancing on streams,
a moment of warmth in the rays of sunbeams.
The coolness of rain as it falls on your face,
the whisper of leaves as wind rushes with haste

~ Eternal Song, a requiem by Avian of Celieria

Celeria  ~ Kreppes
24^th Day of Verados

“The bodies of Talisa and Adrial have been sent back to the elements,” Rain announced, speaking to the top of Dorian’s bent head.

After Talisa and Adrial’s deaths earlier in the day, while the King’s Army continued marching to the great walled city-fortress of Kreppes to prepare for war while Rain and the Fey had stayed behind with Great Lord Barrial and his sons to say their final goodbyes and return the bodies of their loved ones to the elements from whence they came.

Now, as he and Ellysetta stood before Celieria’s king in the chambers Great Lord Barrial had surrendered for Dorian’s use, Rain feared that the deaths of Adrial, Talisa and Colum diSebourne on the fields of northern Celieria today had destroyed far more than three lives.

Only one month ago, the Fey had learned that the evil High Mage of Eld intended to unleash a terrible army upon Celieria.  An army one of his Mages had compared to the mythic Army of Darkness, a world-conquering force of millions.  Rain and Ellysetta had spent weeks trying to cobble together an alliance to combat the threat.  But now, thanks to what had happened with Talisa, Adrial, and Colum, the small army they’d managed to assemble was threatening to come apart at the seams.

King Dorian X of Celieria, who had not risen when Rain and Ellysetta entered, continued to scan the sheets of parchment in his hand as if Rain had not spoken, while leaving the king and queen of the Fey to stand before him like chastised children summoned to the schoolmaster’s office.

Irritation flickered through Rain.  Dorian had a right to his anger—and Rain knew he deserved reproach for hiding Adrial’s continued his presence in Celieria City from Celieria’s king—but he would tolerate no discourtesy towards Ellysetta.

“The Fey stand ready to fight,” Rain continued, “but before this battle begins, King Dorian, the Feyreisa and I must know what impact our recent mutual loss will have on our alliance.”

The hands on the parchment froze.  The Celierian king’s head lifted.  Eyes hard as polished stones clashed with Rain’s gaze.

“It’s a little late for such concerns, don’t you think?”

The quiet venom in Dorian’s tone surprised Rain.  Since meeting the descendant of Marissya and Gaelen’s sister, Marikah vol Serranis, Rain had never regarded Dorian as much more than a too-weak, too-mortal product of a great Fey bloodline.  Fey in name only, with little to recommend him as either a strong leader or a seasoned warrior.  But there was a new edge to Dorian that Rain had never seen before.  A flinty glitter in his eyes and resolute hardness to his jaw.

Trusting, accommodating Dorian vol Serranis Torreval had grown steel in his spine—and with it a decidedly less favorable view of the Fey.

Rain spread his hands in a placating gesture.  “King Dorian—”

“You knew!”  Dorian kicked back his chair and surged to his feet.  “All this time, you knew about Adrial and Talisa.  You knew Adrial and the others hadn’t gone back to the Fading Lands.   Knew they were using their magic to hide their presence from Talisa’s husband.  You knew, and you condoned it.  Not only that—you participated in their deception!”  He jabbed a finger in Rain’s direction.  “You, who posture and pride yourself on Fey honor, intentionally set out to deceive me, the Sebournes and the Barrials.  Both Border Lords, vital in defending Celeria against the Eld.  Was your talk about the Mages gathering strength again just talk, too?”

Rain’s skin flushed.  “I know how this must seem—”

“Seem?”  Dorian gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “You spoke so eloquently about honoring our customs, holding our marriage vows as sacred as your own, and all the while, you plotted to rob a man of his wife. Is this the measure of Fey honor?  Is this how low and worthless it has become—or is it merely an indicator of how low and worthless your honor has become?”

At Rain’s side, Ellysetta bristled, but he silenced her with a small touch of his hand.   He deserved Dorian’s anger.

“You counted on my trust…on my belief in your honor,” Dorian continued hotly.  “You manipulated me like the puppet my own nobles have accused me of being.  You used my faith in the goodness of the Fey—even my love for my Aunt, Marissya, and ties of kinship—to deceive me.  You are the reason three people died today!   How I wish I’d heeded Tenn v’En Eilan’s warning about you!”

“That’s enough!” Ellysetta exclaimed.  Her green eyes shot sparks.  “How dare you lay full blame for today at his feet?  You, who bear as much blame as he?”

“Ellysetta, las.”  Rain pulled her closer, half afraid of what she might do to Dorian.  “Dorian has a right to his anger.  I did manipulate and deceive him.  And I will bear the weight of Adrial and Talisa’s deaths, as I bear the weight of all the lives lost to my sword and to my flame.”  Silently, he added, **Perhaps Tenn was right, and I truly have lost my way.** Had he fallen from the Bright Path and been too blinded by his love for Ellysetta and his hatred of the Eld to realize it?

She whirled on him, anger eclipsed by shock and repudiation of his silent confession.  **Rain, nei.  Don’t even think that way.  You are a champion of Light.  Don’t you ever doubt it,** She clasped his face in her hands and stared fiercely into his eyes, as if, by sheer force of will, she could make him believe her.

Turning back to Dorian, she said in a calmer voice, “In his sorrow and guilt over today’s terrible loss, my shei’tan allows you to heap blame upon him without protest. But I will not.  What great evil has he done? He allowed a dying man to spend the last months of his life watching over the woman he loved.  If that is a crime, you should pray to the gods you would have the heart to be as guilty as he!”

For the first time since they’d entered this chamber, Dorian looked uncertain.  “Vel Arquinas was dying?”

“Ellysetta,” Rain murmured a low warning.  The high price of shei’tanitsa was a dangerous truth Fey never revealed to outsiders.

“Aiyah, he was” she confirmed.  **I’m sorry, Rain, but it’s long past time he learned the truth.  He is part Fey, after all.** To Dorian, she continued aloud, “From the moment you upheld Talisa’s Celierian marriage, Adrial’s life was over.  You did not realize it, but by denying him his shei’tani, you condemned him to death”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Dorian scowled and spun away, stalking over to the large window that looked out over the Heras River and the night-shrouded darkness of Eld.  “Despite what the poets say, a broken heart never killed anyone.”

“Perhaps not among mortals, King Dorian, but the same is not true for the Fey.  Once a fey finds his truemate, he has only months to complete the bond or he will die.”

Dorian stopped in his tracks.  He turned, glancing uncertainly between the pair of them.  “Is this true?” he asked Rain.

Rain sighed, then nodded.  “Aiyah, it is true.”

“But you have yet to complete your bond with the Feyreisa.  Are you telling me you are dying?”

“I am.”

Nonplussed, Dorian leaned back against the window, his hands gripping the stone sill.  “How long do you have?”

“Not long,” Rain confessed.  Ellysetta’s hand crept into his.  He squeezed her fingers gently.  “Weeks perhaps.  No more than a month or two.”

“If this is true, why is this the first I’ve ever heard of it?”

Rain sighed.  “Ellysetta once asked me the same question.   My answer to her was the same as it is to you now: if you had so great a vulnerability—would you let it be known to those who might wish you harm?”

“You think I wish you harm?”

“You?  Nei.  But you are king of a people who have shown increasing animosity towards the Fey.  It seemed wiser just to keep our secrets safe.”

“Knowing this,” Ellysetta said, “can you now understand why Rain acted as he did?  It’s true he allowed our Spirit masters to weave the illusion of Adrial and Rowan leaving the city while in truth they remained behind with Talisa’s quintet, cloaked in invisibility weaves to avoid detection.  And aiyah, he kept the secret of their presence from you so that no blame would fall upon you. But he didn’t do it so Adrial could steal another man’s wife.  He did it so Adrial could spend the last days of his life close to the woman he loved.”

Dorian recovered his composure and regarded them both with a mix of suspicion and defensive ire.  “Even if he was dying, that doesn’t excuse vel Arquinas for what he did.  To manipulate diSebourne’s mind the way he did…to run off with the man’s wife.  Those are not the actions of an honorable man—Fey or mortal.”

“Nei,” Rain agreed.  “They are not.  And that is precisely why Adrial would have embraced sheisan’dahlein, the Fey honor death, and why no Fey will attempt to avenge him.  What Adrial did was wrong.  None of us will deny that.  But his brother Rowan tells us he was going to do the honorable thing.  He was going to leave his shei’tani with her husband and return to the Fading Lands.”

Dorian’s shoulders slumped.  “You should have come to me.  Trusted me.  If I’d known the price of the matebond, I could have tried to do something to spare vel Arquinas’s life.  Now it’s too late.  Three lives are lost—one of them the only heir to a Great House.  Sebourne and his friends will make certain I regret my indulgence of the Fey.”

“I do understand, Dorian, and I will do all that I can to make amends, but we have a far greater threat than Sebourne’s vengeance to worry about now.  Hawksheart warned us the Eld would attack tonight.”

“Tonight? I thought you said the attack would come next week?”

“Apparently, things have changed.”

“How many Elves did Hawksheart send to our aid?  If the attack does come tonight, will they get here in time?”

Rain took a breath.  This, even more than Dorian’s anger, was the part of this meeting he’d been dreading.   “The Elves are not coming, Dorian.”

“They’re not?” The king’s brow furrowed.  “Lord Hawksheart thinks the Danae alone will be enough against an army as large as the one you expect?”

“We never met with the Danae.  Hawksheart’s Elves intercepted us before we crossed Celieria’s borders.  He promised he would speak to the Danae on our behalf, but even if they agree to come, it will be days, possibly weeks before they reach Kreppes.”

“Then we are doomed.”  Dorian began to pace.

“The keep is heavily guarded, and the shields are strong,” Rain said.  “Between your twelve thousand men, Lord Barrials’ two, and my three thousand Fey, we’ll give the Eld a good fight, I promise you.  The Mages will not claim one fingerspan of Celierian soil without paying a high price.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Dorian snapped.  “I’ve read the legends about the Army of Darkness.  It was millions strong, they say.”

“Legends often grow over time.”

“Yes, but even if this Mage has built an army only a tenth that size, our eighteen thousand would still be outnumbered twenty to one.  If the Elves and the Danae had agreed to fight, we might have stood a chance.  Might.  But now….”

“Now, if this Mage truly has built an army to rival the legend, the best we can hope is to hold back the tide and kill as many of them as possible before we are overrun,” Rain agreed baldly.  “And pray our defeat will spur the Elves to action, as our pleas for aid could not.”

“You must hold out some hope of success,” Dorian insisted.  “You would never bring your shei’tani here, if you thought defeat were certain.”

“She is here because I am, but if the situation becomes dire, her quintet will take her to safety.”

At his side, Ellysetta went stiff as a poker.  **Rain, I’m not leaving you.**

**We will talk later.** He would not look at her.

**Nei, we won’t.  Because there is nothing to talk about.  I won’t leave you.  You’re mad if you think I would.**

The corner of his mouth quirked, and despite the seriousness of their situation, he cast her a quick glance, sparkling with wry humor.  **I believe we’ve already established that, shei’tani, and I’m getting madder by the day.**

She glowered.  **That’s not funny.**

Dorian paced across the room to the glassed window carved into the thick stone walls of the keep’s central tower.  Thick swaths of embroidered velvet hung across the glass, buffering the room against the chill of the north’s snowy winters.  He pulled back one of the hangings and peered out across the torch-lit northern battlements into the darkness of Eld.

“It is late.  My scouts have reported no armies on the horizon.   My generals have already sought their beds.  I suggest you do the same. If an attack does come tonight, ’tis better we face them rested and ready to fight.”  Dorian returned to stand beside his desk.  “Lord Barrial has ordered his servants to prepare a suite for you and the Feyreisa.  Her quintet may stay with you, of course, and you may post another quintet to stand watch with the tower guard.  But have the rest of your troops make camp outside the walls.  I am not the only Celierian unsettled by today’s events.  Emotions are running high, and I prefer to avoid any potential conflicts.”

“Of course.”  Rain gave the brief half-nod that served as a courtesy bow between kings and held out a wrist for Ellysetta’s hand.  “We have no wish to cause you further distress.”

* * *

After leaving the king, Rain and Ellysetta went out to the Fey encampment—Rain to meet with his generals and Ellysetta to ease what she could of Rowan’s grief.  One of Lord Barrial’s servants was waiting for them upon their return and showed them to a spacious suite in the inner fortress’s west wing.

Now, secure behind the twenty-five fold weaves of her quintet and Kreppes’s own impressive shields that self-activated each night at sundown, Ellysetta lay in Rain’s arms in the center of the room’s opulent bed.  A warm fire crackled in the hearth, illuminating the room with flickering dance of shadows and firelight.

“How is Rowan?”  Rain stroked a hand through her unbound hair.

“Devastated.”  Her head rested on his chest.  She snuggled closer, needing the feel of his arm around her, the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear.  “The loss of his brother eats at his soul.  Bel offered to spin a Spirit weave to Rowan’s sister, but that only made things worse.  He couldn’t bear the thought of telling her their brother is gone.  He blames himself for Adrial’s death.  I don’t know how he could possibly think that.  None of this was his fault.”

“Grief isn’t always logical.  And with a Fey, it’s never mild. Our kind do not love in half measures.”

The Fey did nothing in half-measures.  That intensity of emotion was part of their appeal.  It made them the fiercest warriors, the staunchest allies, the most passionate lovers. The most devoted mates.

She ran a hand down his torso, fingertips stroking the silky smooth skin.  All she had to do was touch him to set her world to rights.

“I wove what peace on him I could,” she said, “but I’m worried about him.  There is a look in his eyes…a shadow I’ve never seen before.  Almost as if some part of him died with Adrial and the rest is only going through the motions of living.  When this battle starts, I don’t think he intends to live through it.”

“I will talk to him tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”  Rain knew loss.  He knew what it was to wish for death.  Ellysetta traced a pattern across the skin of his chest.  “Rain…”

“Aiyah?”

“About what you said earlier to Dorian.  The bit about me leaving if the battle grows grim.”

He caught her hand, stilled it.  “I’ve already commanded your quintet to take you to safety, when the time comes.”

She rolled away and propped herself up one elbow so she could see his face.

“Lord Hawksheart said we should stay together,” she reminded him. “‘Do not leave your mate’s side,’ he said.  ‘You hold each other to the Light,’ he said.  He said that we could only defeat the Darkness together.”

“He said many things.  Most of which I don’t trust.”

“I see.”  Ellysetta freed her hand from his and laid down on her back to stare up at the ceiling.  “So we kept information from Dorian for our own purposes, yet you expect him to forgive our transgressions and trust us as if nothing has ever happened.  But when it’s we who are deceived—when it’s Lord Galad keeping information from the Fey for his own purposes—somehow that makes his every word suspect?”

Dead silence fell over the room, broken only by the snap and pop of the logs on the fire.

Rain sat up, furs spilling into his lap as he twisted to face her.  Silky black hair spilled over his muscled shoulders.  His brows drew together.

“You think I have treated Dorian the way Hawksheart has treated us?”

She met his gaze.  “I think we decided which truths to tell him and which to keep secret, just as the Elves have done to us. So now he distrusts us. Just as we distrust the Elves.  Yet somehow we think he should just forget our deceptions and heed our advice without question—while you will not trust Lord Galad.”

Rain scowled.  “The two are not remotely comparable.  Hawksheart left your parents to suffer a thousand years of torment.  He sent gods knows how many people to their deaths.  He refuses to fight the Darkness he knows is coming.”

“And three people are dead because we let Adrial stay with his shei’tani and hide his presence from the Celierians.  And now, though you’ve been told we must both face the High Mage together, you want to send me away and ensure our defeat.”

“You are twisting the facts.  I want to keep you alive!  How is that so wrong?”

She sat up and put her arms around him.  “I don’t want to die, Rain.  But I won’t be sent away so you can sacrifice yourself.  You need me.”  She stroked her fingers through his hair, smoothing the long strands back from his beautiful face.  The bond madness was upon him.  He fought it every moment of the day, and without her close by, the battle was more difficult.    “And I need you, just as much.”

The last three weeks, they’d been each other’s constant companion, never apart for more than a few chimes, and tonight, when he met with his generals while she went to heal Rowan, she’d felt his absence acutely.  She’d come to rely on the strength she drew from him when he was near, just as she’d come to rely on Lord Hawksheart’s magical circlet of yellow Sentinel blooms to keep the Mage out of her dreams when she slept.  Just this last bell apart from him had left her feeling stretched thin.  She’d found herself constantly reaching for him through their bond threads, drawing his emotions to her and soothing him with her own.  Needing to know that he was close, that he was well, that she was not alone.

It frightened her, a little, how much she needed him.  How much she’d come to depend on the constant flow of strength and reassurance between them.

“Sending me away won’t save me, Rain.  Without you to keep me strong, it’s only a matter of time before the High Mage claims my soul.”  She already bore four of the six Mage Marks needed to enslave a soul, shadowy bruises upon the skin over her heart, invisible except in the presence of the forbidden Dark magic, Azrahn.  “You know that, even if you want to deny it.”

His face crumpled.  “I can’t lose you.”

“And that’s why you can’t send me away.   Because the only way you could ever truly lose me is if the Mage claims my soul.”  Two more Marks and she would be lost forever.  “Besides,” she added softly, “if you sent me away, where would I go?  You’re the only family I have left.”

Ellysetta was, essentially, an orphan.  Mama—Lauriana Baristani, her adoptive mother – was dead, killed by the Eld.  Papa and her two sisters, Lillis and Lorelle, were lost in the magical fog of the Faering Mists.  Her Fey parents, Shan and Elfeya v’En Celay, whom she had never met, had both been prisoners of the High Mage of Eld for the last thousand years.  Rain was the only family she had left.

His head bowed.  Shei’tani.  The word escaped his battered mind, filled with sorrow and despair.

She pulled him close, stroking his hair and back and he kissed her tenderly.  But when tenderness blossomed to passion and he would have borne her down upon the bed, she stopped him.

“If this is to be our last night together, shei’tan, I don’t want to spend it here, in a strange room in a cold castle on the borders.”

His brows rose.  “Then where would you have us go?”

“To the Fading Lands.” When he frowned in confusion, she lifted a hand.  The lavender glow of Spirit gathered in her palm. “I want to spend our last night in Dharsa, with our friends and family around us and the tairen singing from the rooftops and the scent of Amarynth in the air.”

Rain lips curved in understanding.  “I think, between the two of us, we can arrange that.”  His weave joined her own, threads merging and spilling out across the room.  The walls, the bed, all of Celieria faded away, replaced by the perfect beauty of Dharsa and the gardens near the golden Hall of Tairen.  Faerilas, the magic infused waters of the Fading Lands, burbled in exquisite marble fountains, and the air was redolent with the scent of magic, sweet with the perfumed scent of jasmine and honeyblossom and Amarynth, the flower of life.  The Fey were singing, the music rising into a soft evening sky.  Fairy flies winked and glittered amid the flowers and trees.

And there, standing in the great marble arches, stood Ellysetta’s family.  Mama and Papa and the twins.  And her Fey parents, Shan and Elfeya, healthy and whole and free, their faces alight with love.  Kieran and Kiel.  Adrial and Talisa.  Rain’s parents, Rajahl and Kiaria.  Sweet, shy, gentle Sariel dancing the Felah Baruk with the joyful Fey maidens and fierce-eyed Fey.

Rain and Ellysetta joined them.  They danced and they sang, and as the night deepened, they walked out into the perfumed gardens and made love beneath the stars.

And overhead, the sky was filled with tairen.

And the world was filled with joy.

* * *

The Faering Mists

Lillis Baristani had never been happier in her life.  Whatever magic this was in the Faering Mists, she never wanted to leave it.  She had spent every day glued to Mama’s side, sitting beside her on a wooden swing in the misty garden, cooking and laughing with her in the kitchen, lying with her head in Mama’s lap as Mama read to her at night. Everything she’d missed since Mama had died.  Everything she’d wished she could do again.

Every moment seemed perfect, enchanted.  And Mama was even more wonderful than Lillis could ever remember her being.  It was as if whatever had happened that day in the Cathedral of Light had changed Mama, stripped her of the fear and disapproval that had so often darkened her eyes.

Tonight, Lillis and Mama cuddled together on the suspended wooden swing Papa had installed on the back of their house, rocking gently as they watched the fairy flies dance across their garden, trailing glittering fairy fly dust in their wake.  As Lillis watched the little whorls and streamers of colorful light and rocked in Mama’s arms, she heard herself confess that she and Lorelle had revealed their magic to Papa and to the Fey.

The chime the words were out, she clapped a hand over her mouth and wished them back, but instead of delivering a sharp chide, Mama only smiled and stroked Lillis’s hair.  “It’s all right, kitling,” she said. “I should have told the truth myself long ago, but I was afraid.”

That made Lillis’s eyes go wide.  Mama?  Afraid?  But she never feared anything.  Lillis was the scaredy cat of the family. “What were you afraid of, Mama?”

“Oh, many things.”  Mama sighed.  “But mostly I was afraid that what happened to my sister might somehow happen to you and Lorelle.”

Lillis leaned back to look up at her mother in surprise.  “I never knew you had a sister.”

“She died long ago.”  Mama’s eyes were dark and sad.  “Her name was Bessinita…my sweet little Bess…and I loved her more than anything in the world.” Then Mama had told her how Bess had been a Fire weaver too, like Lorelle and Mama, only when Bess was two, she accidentally burned a neighbor’s house down.  The villagers had insisted on winding Bess—taking the baby out into the dark Verlaine forest and abandoning her there to die.

“What did you do?”

“There wasn’t anything I could do.  I wasn’t even as old as you are now.”  She rested her chin on the top of Lillis’s head.  “I prayed and prayed that someone would find her before the lyrant did, or if nothing else, that the Bright Lord would send his Lightmaidens to carry Bess away to the Haven of Light.”

Tears turned Lillis’s vision hazy.  “Poor little baby.  Poor little Bess.”

“That was why I was always so afraid of magic, kitling.  Not because I thought you or Lorelle were horrible for having magic, but because I was so afraid of what people would do if they knew.”

“But you’re not afraid anymore?”

Mama smiled gently.  “No, kitling.  When I let love be my guide, fear lost its power over me.”

“So you’re not mad at us for telling?” Lillis asked.

“Of course not.”  Mama pressed a kiss in Lillis’s curls.  “I’m very proud of you and Lorelle both, and I’m proud of Ellie too.  I love you all more than I can say.”

“I love you too, Mama.”  Lillis snuggled closer and closed her eyes in bliss.  Her arms squeezed tight around Mama’s neck, holding her close, and she breathed deep of the special scent that was Mama’s own, the scent of home and love and security where bad people never came and monsters never howled.  “I never want to lose you again.”

Mama caressed Lillis’s hair in slow, rhythmic strokes, and the beat of her heart thumped reassuringly beneath Lillis’s ear.  “I’ll always be with you, Lillipet. No matter what.  If ever you’re feeling alone or afraid, just remember that.  And remember this too: we are all the gods’ children.  All our gifts come from them, but it’s what we choose to do with those gifts that determines whether we walk in Light or Shadow.  When you see Ellie again, will you tell her that for me?  And tell her I said to let love, not fear, be her guide. Will you do that for me?”

“You can tell her yourself.  Once Kieran and Kiel get here, we can all go find Ellie together.”

Mama smiled.  “I think she’ll understand it better if it comes from you.  Will you promise me, kitling?”

Lillis frowned a little, but agreed with an obedient, “Yes, Mama.”

“And you won’t forget? No matter what?”

“No, Mama.”

Her reward was a kiss and another hug.  “That’s my sweet Lillipet.”

Lillis burrowed into her mother’s arms, closing her eyes in bliss as Mama’s love and warmth enveloped her and held her tight.

Sandy M’s review of Crown of Crystal Flame (Tairen Soul, Book 5) by C.L. Wilson
Fantasy Romance published by Avon 26 Oct 10

When I think back to 2007 when I received an ARC for review of the first book in this series, Lord of the Fading Lands, and I kept looking at the cover, telling myself “That’s fantasy, you’re not big on fantasy, you probably won’t like that book,” I’d put it aside to read something else, I can’t believe I might have missed the best books and best series to come along in a very long time. C.L. Wilson has written the book of her heart and readers have taken her story and her characters into theirs. This last book of the series is a perfect ending to the perfect series. I hate to see it end, but Ms. Wilson is now well into her journey as a best-selling author, so I know more good things — no, great things — will be forthcoming from her.

We go into this last book with Ellie still not completing her truemate bond with Rain. He is slowly dying, suffering madness without their bond. Of course, like any fan of this series, I’ve had my own ideas of what I’d like to see happen between this awesome couple, what Ellie’s Tairen looks like, her first flight in that form, and a number of other things. Ms. Wilson gave me what I wanted in spades — and then some.

War has been waged against the Fey by the Mages of Eld and the fighting becomes much more intense and personal in this book. The action is nearly nonstop once battling begins. We lose a few good friends, inevitable in the face of war, but sad to say that final farewell. The High Mage has huge plans, thought out over millennia, and while he succeeds on some level, Ms. Wilson masterfully spans the reader’s tension and anxiety over Rain and Ellie’s plight chapter after chapter until the last possible moment. She had me tied up in knots when it seemed capture was finally imminent and I just couldn’t stand to read any further, not wanting to know what happens to them. I literally would let book in hand fall to my lap and my head drop back to the top of the couch, insides twisting with despair. This book is filled with those types of moments. I, of course, kept reading, letting that despair then be overwhelmed by curiosity, only to plunge headlong back into that former state. Back and forth it went over and over again.

And all of that is nothing compared to the moment Ellie and the High Mage do come face to face. Her parents, who have been in his evil, torturous hands for centuries, are used against her. Her twin sisters, who are recently his prisoners, are used against her. Ellie’d seen all of this in her dreams and she’s able to hold out as the mage taunts her. It’s not until she discovers what has befallen Rain that her Tairen bursts free. And what happens next is astonishing. More than I could have imagined. More than I could ever put into words, so I won’t try. It’s the author who does it to perfection. Ms. Wilson’s superb job with the bonding completion and the resulting events, one of my fervent hopes that comes true, is entrancing and spellbinding. Ellie is beautiful indeed.

I knew there would be times during my reading that tears would threaten. What amazed me is those tears came at points I didn’t expect, nowhere close to those moments I did. The most poignant and surprising came with Annoura, Queen of Celieria, who is a character many have come to dislike somewhat in the last couple of books. I find my heart softening. my sympathizing toward her unexpected but in hindsight not surprising when in such talented author hands. There are other very emotional scenes in the book, some with those characters we’ve come to love and some with new characters who we can’t but love instantly.

Having been on the edge in 2007 of nearly missing this entire series is a moment of disbelief for me now that I’ve read the entire series. I know what I would have been missing, a terrific story with awesome characters in a world worth fighting to the death against evil for, and I’m now glad to have been a part of it. But not having read the words of the talented C.L. Wilson is such a shame for any reader. Trust me on that one.

If I could add another ten, fifty, a hundred, or even more pluses after my review grade for this book, I certainly would. It deserves that and so much more.

Grade: A+

Summary:

A Song of Love won her heart.
A Song of Darkness haunted her soul.
A Song in the Dance would seal her fate.

Seers had long foreseen an extraordinary destiny for Ellysetta Baristani. Already she had won the heart of the Fey King?the magnificent Rain, ever her ally, eternally her love. She had saved the offspring of the magical tairen and fought beside her legendary mate against the armies of Eld.

But the most powerful–and dangerous–Verse of her Song had yet to be sung.

As the final battle draws nigh and evil tightens its grip upon her soul–will Ellysetta secure the world for Light or plunge it into Darkness for all eternity? As she and Rain fight for each other, side by side, will they find a way to complete their truemate bond and defeat the evil High Mage of Eld before it’s too late, or must they make the ultimate sacrifice to save their world?

Read an excerpt.

Other books in this series:

We had a grand time with Sabrina Jeffries during her What a Ride! guest blog, and you all came up with some terrific ideas for romantic amusement park rides that hopefully sparked her imagination and you just might see your concept in one of her novels one day. Well, one can hope, that is!

And now our winner of a copy of Sabrina’s Never Seduce a Scoundrel is……

***Margay (28)!!!

Congratulations! Please send your snail mail address to lighthousetagger (at) gmail (dot) com and we’ll get in touch with Sabrina for you!

If you’ve spent any amount of time swimming around the pond, you’ve undoubtedly noticed that more than a few of us have mad love for Harlequin.  We read ‘em, we review ‘em, we love them with the kind of slavish devotion usually reserved for stalkers.  So when we learned that Harlequin editor, Marsha Zinberg was doing a blog tour in honor of Harlequin’s Famous Firsts collection, we jumped at the chance to have her stop by for a visit. OK, in truth we just about fell all over ourselves.  But Marsha is made of some stern stuff, and we’re happy to report we didn’t scare her off with our borderline rabid fan girl behavior.  So, without further ado – here’s Marsha sharing with us the romance novels that got some of Harlequins “Famous Firsts” on the path to romance super-stardom!

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the creation of excellence or the achievement of success usually stands on the shoulders of those who have gone before.

There was little hesitation when I asked the Famous Firsts authors about the books that had turned them on to romance, or the authors that they had particularly loved. As you may have guessed, I fell under the spell of Jane Austen in high school, and a much-thumbed school edition of Pride and Prejudice still holds pride of place on my bookshelves.

I discovered that I shared that early delight with Stella Cameron, who also loved the Whiteoaks series.

For Carla Neggers, it was The Moonspinners, by Mary Stuart, which she read when she was twelve. A short dozen years later, she had produced her own first novel.

Anne Stuart was only ten when she fell under the gothic spell of Mistress of Mellyn by Victoria Holt. She asked her grandmother for the hardcover for Christmas, and thus began her romance reading career!

Joan Johnston loved Jude Devereux’s Velvet series. She was thrilled to be the winner of an autographed copy of Velvet Angel when it was raffled off at the second annual Romantic Times convention. She only had to pay the postage! She also mentioned that Roberta Gellis’s Rosalynde series taught her to bring dimension to her characters by having them say one thing and think something else entirely.

Kathleen Woodiwiss’s The Wolf and the Dove hooked Debbie Macomber. She also loved early Harlequin romances by Ann Mather and Violet Winspear.

Linda Lael Miller wasn’t a southern girl, but she fell hard for Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell. (Another favorite of mine, too!) And Judith McNaught’s Whitney, My Love followed close behind.

Lori Foster claims that school never gave her a huge love of reading, but historical romances, such as those by Johanna Lindsay, really engaged her. Then she moved on to early books of Linda Howard and Jayne Ann Krentz, and the rest is history…..

Her journalism background caused Vicki Lewis Thompson to approach an early romance by Tate McKenna as a research project. What was all this fuss about romance writing? Could she do it? She sure could, and she sure did.

Now here’s a lovely story that I just learned. Lindsay McKenna met her husband in 1972, when she was in her late twenties. Her husband-to-be took his betrothed to Genevieve, Ohio to meet his mother, and the thing she most wanted to share with her soon-to-be daughter-in-law was her Harlequin romance novels. She was particularly fond of doctor/nurse stories. Lindsay dutifully took home ten or fifteen, read them, enjoyed them, but thought she could do better. So she decided to try writing one herself. She credits her mother-in-law with introducing her to the romance industry and starting her career!

What romances do you consider “classics”? Please share your favorites with me. I’d love to know what book or author initiated your romance reading habit!

Please be sure to come visit me at Pink Hearts on Thursday, June 18 and at The Misadventures of Super Librarian next Monday, June 22! I’ve had great fun on this tour and your comments have been fascinating.

My previous blogs stops include: Bookbinge, Plot Monkeys, Blaze authors blog, Romance Junkies, Romancing the Blog, Dear Author, Cataromance, and Teach Me Tonight – a different Harlequin Famous First story at every blog.

Don’t forget that you can enjoy 16 free Harlequin novels by downloading them at www.HarlequinCelebrates.com.

Contest Alert! We’ll be giving away two Harlequin tote bags, filled with eight (!) books by some of Harlequin’s Famous Firsts!  Share your favorite classic romance in the comments, and one lucky winner will be chosen at random.  Contest ends Monday, June 22!

I haven’t done a favorites post in a while, and after a few random conversations on Twitter (personal twitter accounts: limecello, gwen, c2, shannon, wendy)  I realized there were a wealth of favorites I could feature here. So that’s what I decided to do. Maybe this’ll happen again, maybe it won’t, but I had fun doing it, and I hope everyone else did and will too. So… enjoy. This is my new “favorites” post with some super star guests. I’ve very excited, and grateful that some of these very talented authors (and individuals) decided to contribute.

Amie Stuart – Action Flicks: Action flicks make me squee harder than a 13 year old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. Seriously, I get more excited than my kids as we get closer and closer to the Summer Blockbuster Movie season-and I have BOYS! It’s like Christmas and my birthday all wrapped together and this year promises to be (for me) exceptional-Terminator, Star Trek, Wolverine, G. I. Joe, Public Enemies and yes, even Angels & Demons is on my radar. Give me guns, blood, bombs and mayhem; give me totally unbelievable car chases and plot twists that would make the Heroes staff writers drool with envy, but Lord have mercy, don’t give me a hankie or any of that, “You complete me,” crap. In truth, I think I was a dude in my last life.

Ann Aguirre – (She was originally going to talk about Sham Wows but couldn’t because she doesn’t have one, so if any generous soul wants to give Ann a present, there’s your perfect suggestion, and chance!) . My favorite thing in the world is my Eternally Soft blanket from J.C. Penney. I actually find I sleep better underneath it because it’s so soft. The satin edging makes it like a baby blankie, only it’s king sized. I had one when I was a kid, and then I went years without one. I managed to track it down to J.C. Penney, and I ordered three, when I bought them, so they would last a while. I even got them monogrammed, which is oh-so-fancy. I have blue, cream, and hazelnut. These are the best blankets ever, so light and soft, but they’re snuggly warm too.

c2 got paid by a LOT of companies to do hers… (and seemed to misunderstand singular vs plural…) Sometimes it’s the little things that make us happy! Here are some of my most favorite things:

	Sympathy for the Skin body cream. If I did not use this fabulous banana vanilla concoction I would be positively reptilian during the winter months! Nobody wants that…trust me. .
	Big Mouth lip gloss. I can’t tell that it plumps and I don’t need it to, anyway, but this gloss does smooth my lips out and enhance the natural color plus it isn’t sticky and goopy. Yay!
	There are no words for how happy my Sleep Mate makes me. I love sleep! Good sleep is a fabulous and rare thing, says me. I don’t like identifiable sounds in a roof when I’m trying to sleep – like a television or radio or ticking clock (hatesssss the ticking clocks!!). But I don’t like complete silence either. Normally I’m so easy going but I’m difficult when it comes to all thing sleep-related. Heh. . Anyhoo, I grew up with a window air conditioner in my room so I love the sound of a fan when I sleep and the Sleep Mate sounds just like a fan or air conditioner of some sort. It masks all the weird sounds that might intrude on my sleep but isn’t so loud that I can’t hear the storm siren, if it starts wailing. Plus I have the loudest refrigerator ever and the kitchen shares a wall with my bedroom. If you’re a light sleeper or have noisy neighbors or just don’t like too much silence, a Sleep Mate might be a product for you. If you’re a light sleeper or have noisy neighbors or just don’t like too much silence, a Sleep Mate might be a product for you. I grew up with a window air conditioner in my room so I love the sound of a fan when I sleep. Plus I have the loudest refrigerator ever and the kitchen shares a wall with my bedroom.
	Sprees! My favorite candy since I was a little C2. I found the tube version a few weeks ago in a tiny market in a nearby town. Win! (Ed note: They can be bought online as well.)
	Piggy Polish nail polish. Such fun colors! And bonus toe rings (that are way too big for my toes but might fit someone). What more can you ask? .
	Spiderman gummies vitamins Best vitamins EVER!
	Jokari Fizz-Keeper Pump and Pour! You squeeze the bubble and your soda stays fizzy. I didn’t think it would work but it SO does!
	Tarte emphaseyes eyeliner- Love this eyeliner! In black (the other colors I’ve tried don’t show much). I only use it on the bottom lid, usually. It stays put and makes it super easy to get right up by the lashline.
	Dee Tenorio – I pondered this very carefully. Should I talk about my love for my children or husband, the people who fill my days and make my life worthwhile? Should I talk about my nearly unnatural passion for football and how all I want for Christmas is a Drew Brees Charger jersey? Or an LT? Or maybe just LT, period? But no, I thought, if I should be honest, one thing that makes me happy, every time…is cake. I know, it’s lame, but it’s true. Cake is love in a spongy, frosting covered, pudding or fruit filled shape. That’s why they make it for birthdays. I love a light cake, the kind that when you sink a fork into it, the whole piece bends then releases back to it’s previous shape. The frosting should be creamy without leaving a waxy coating on your tongue. Sweet without gagging you. Oh, and it should have two layers. And it needs filling, preferably pudding. That’s where the affection is. Yup yup. Goooood times.
	HelenKay Dimon – Home. I love to travel and the more exotic the better. Enjoy going out with friends because having a balance between work and fun is important. I live in Southern California with so many wonderful vacation spots nearby – the beach on one side and the desert on the other. Beverly Hills a morning’s drive away and so many great locations close by plane. But the place I’m happiest is my house. It’s not big. It’s not in the most expensive area. There are things I’d love to change. Heaven knows it needs work…and a good cleaning. None of those defects matter to me. Whether I’m in my back yard sitting in the sun and surrounded by flowers, or in my family room fighting the pets for space on the couch, I’m content. Comfortable. Secure. It’s both a feeling and a place. It’s where I work and where I avoid doing work. Home is where my family is and where I always want to be. . . [And yes, that is an actual picture of HelenKay's gorgeous home! Now don't break her trust or mine by going off and stalking her!]
	JenB (she won’t admit it, but I’m giving it to you straight – she was paid off by Kiehl’s) – My favorite thing is Kiehl’s. I got hooked on Kiehl’s because of their Lip Balm #1. I keep a half-ounce tube in my purse and the one-ounce jar on my nightstand. It’s great on its own or under lipstick, and it lasts a long time because it’s ultra-moisturizing. It’s also the only lip balm I’ve found that doesn’t break me out around my mouth or cause my lips to feel like they’ve become dependent on it (unlike Carmex). Of course I didn’t stop at the lip balm. I also love their Leave-In Conditioner. My hair is thick, wavy, and somewhat coarse, and so far this tames it better than any other product. I’m constantly changing shampoos and conditioners, but this leave-in is a constant. Other Kiehl’s favorites are the Light Nourishing Eye Cream, Creamy Avocado Eye Treatment, Blue Herbal Spot Treatment, Ultimate Strength Hand Salve, their FABULOUS lip glosses, and most recently the Tinted Moisturizer. They even have a line of baby products which I’m tempted to try because of my sensitive skin. And for those of you with extra cash and extra-pampered pets, try their Canine & Equine lines.
	Katiebabs – One of my favorite things in the whole world is to chew gum. If I could live on coffee, pretzels and gum, I would be one happy person. And what is there not to like about gum? Where else can you choose between a zillion different flavors that can give you hours of enjoyment? Bubble gum is a great appetite suppressant and allows you to do many things with your mouth. (I know it sounds dirty, doesn’t it?). . I have become quite the gum expert. Orbit gum is my absolute favorite because it is pretty inexpensive, comes in an easy to use package and the flavor lasts for hours. Bubble gum is like choosing your favorite color crayon because there are so many flavors to choose from. After a meal, usually after lunch I must have a piece to cleanse my palate. . Just by saying these two words- bubble gum makes me smile.
	Keri Stevens – I confess. I am in love with my front-loader washer. Yes, he is a large appliance. And yes, he is a large appliance. Because he has such massive . . . capacity, I wash three times as much clothing in each load than my old top-loader could swallow. . He’s beautiful, too – a shiny stainless steel drum set in a white case. When his surface is dirty, it takes just a lick and swipe to clean him up. Easy. And when he spins? Oh, when he spins! I can sit for hours, mesmerized gazing through his glass door to the maelstrom. But it doesn’t take hours, of course-because he’s energy-efficient, water-conserving and fast. And when it comes to my dirty clothes, fast is a very good thing. . Lord Grey (I’m pretty sure that’s what the LG on his front stands for) is the strong, silent type. His cycles are so quiet that he makes clothes washing seem effortless-but when I lean against him, I feel him throb. I get on my knees in front of him, pushing in dry clothes, pulling out wet. But the balance of power in our relationship is equal: I know how to push all of his buttons. And although I live with four other people, apparently I am the only one able to turn him on.
	Limecello -Me? I love free things, or discounts and coupons, and have been known to share links to free cookies/meals/etc. I discovered SwagBucks in February, and I waited until I made sure it was legitimate before I started telling people. (Also to make sure it wasn’t spammy or would give you a virus- I knew my computer was dying so I didn’t mind TOO much if something else happened to it.) But you know? All was good. So sign up – and get yourself some swag too. You don’t even have to use the link I posted, but I’d love for you to do that, because I do get referral points up to a certain mark. (And yes it works, I’ve gotten $55 in Gift Cards from it, that yes I have used and they work, and am working on getting more.) . But that leads me to my real thing. What makes me happy is basic human kindness. One day, Amie surprised me with a really nice post, and messaged me, saying she thought it was great that I teach little inner city brats. (I won’t talk about it here.) I still need to *really* pass it on, but I ran into a really nice valet named Tim this past week. I got lost and parked at the wrong place when going to see the ophthalmologist. I was also wearing heels because afterward I was meeting friends for dinner because one of them was leaving for CA. Anyway, the valet took care of parking for me. He got me a band aid because my shoes ate my heels (literally all the skin still is gone), walked me to my car, swiped me out, then drove me to the proper lot. Just because. What an amazing guy. He told me some weird things like he lost weight and wanted a 30″ waist for when he hit 50, but you know. It was nice for him to help me out.
	Moira Rogers (Yes, I got a matched set! Go me!)
	Bree – I’m going to go out on a limb and say no one who uses utensils wouldn’t find their lives way better with one of these around. It’s a spoon! It’s a fork! It’s a freaking titanium spork! Not only is it useful for those eating-related quandaries (like shrimp fried rice) but you can use it for self defense, too. Not to mention the street cred that comes along with owning such an epic piece of cutlery. . (Disclaimer: street cred only accumulated among the extremely geeky or quirky.)
	Donna - My favorite thing right now is Food Network. There are very few shows on that channel I won’t watch. Whenever I’m stuck in a rut–culinary or otherwise–I just switch it on and educate myself. Okay, well, I mostly just drool. But sometimes there is edification going on, I swear!Any time I need some new recipe or technique to mess around with in the kitchen, Food Network delivers. When I have insomnia and can’t work for some reason, Food Network delivers–usually in the form of an episode of “Chopped” or “Ace of Cakes” or something else I can only stare at in amazement as slumber slowly overtakes me.And then we have my absolute hero. My younger daughter calls him “the man who makes food,” and we both stare devotedly at the television when he’s on screen. If he tried to sell me snake oil, I’d buy it. I have thirty episodes of “Good Eats” on my DVR–in high-definition, no less.Yes, it’s true. I am a foodie and a nerd…and Alton Brown is my king.

So now… it’s your turn! What is your new favorite thing? Or you can pass on the awesome by talking about someone who you appreciate. Or you know, turn this into a rant. That’s great too. Just join in and chat – it’ll be fun, and the water is nice. I promise!

As of right now I don’t have the cover for this but I will updated it when I get it…

Unleashed will release October 2009!

And don’t forget about the contest…

Danny Taggart is the biggest, boldest badass of all the Gemini Men. There’s only one thing a woman can do with a man this hot, hard, and ready for action….

Tall, dark and rippling with muscle, Danny Taggart takes no prisoners. But when his latest case puts him up close and personal with the woman who once left him raw and aching, he’s shell-shocked. Caroline Medford is still hotter than hell. But she’s also got her pretty grip on the truths that have shaped him into the soul-ravaged warrior he is today. Burned once, Danny’s plan is to satisfy his craving for Caroline and walk away. Yet once he has her warm and willing beneath him, he can’t get deep enough—or close enough. Not even when danger threatens to destroy everything he’s ever fought for. Including the only woman he’s ever
loved…

“I’m so sorry.”

Danny was grateful his sunglasses hid his eye roll as he braced himself for another hug. His hand was stiff from endless handshakes, his brain numb from the meaningless condolences.

I’m so sorry. That’s what everyone said. But what were they sorry for? That she was dead? That they’d wasted years searching the globe for her when she was dead and buried practically in their own back yard? That Anne Taggart was in such a state when she disappeared that it was plausible – even probable- to most of the people who knew her that she’d walked out on her family?

Danny was really fucking sick of all these “I’m sorries.”

“At least now you have closure.”

Danny bit back a retort and returned his Aunt Cheryl’s embrace after she uttered the only words more annoying and offensive than “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of closure he was supposed to appreciate when the discovery of his mother’s body raised about a thousand more questions than it answered, like, starting with how did she end up dead in the first place and who the fuck decided an unmarked grave in a redwood forest was an appropriate resting place?

But he didn’t figure his Aunt Cheryl, who they hadn’t seen in over a decade, was up to discussing any of those hard questions.

Cheryl, his mother’s younger sister by two years, pulled back and clasped his right hand in both of hers. A niggling ache clutched his chest as he took in her carefully styled, chin length hair, its sunny blond color no doubt aided by a hairdresser, her lightly lined skin and watery blue eyes. Cheryl looked a lot like her older sister, and Danny knew this was the closest he’d ever get to seeing his own mother age.

He fought the urge to yank his hand away, slam himself into his jeep and haul ass back to his house so he could run for the hills and get good and gone for a few hours, maybe a few days this time.

He stood firm, returning Cheryl’s affectionate squeeze while he fought the blackness threatening to swallow him whole.

“If you need anything, anything at all, let me know, okay? You have our number right?”

Danny nodded, humoring her, bending his head so she could place one last, teary kiss on his cheek. He had no doubt she was sincere. In this moment, right this second, she meant he could call her for anything if he or his brothers were so inclined. But Aunt Cheryl and her husband lived outside Minneapolis, near her own children. Other than birthday cards and Christmas cards, they hadn’t had any contact once the initial stir caused by Anne’s disappearance died down. He didn’t blame her – she needed to get on with her life half a continent away. Still her offer to “be there” – whatever the fuck that meant, rang just as hollow as the endless “I’m sorries.”

Cheryl was followed by an endless stream of mourners, people he’d never met or barely remembered who’d shown up at Menlo Presbyterian today, supposedly to mourn Anne Taggart.

Or to rubberneck and rehash one of the biggest local scandals of the last decade was more like it.

He shook infinite hands, endured endless maternal pats as he watched Cheryl walk over to his father. The grim knot in Danny’s gut tightened as he watched his father woodenly return her hug. God, he hoped Cheryl didn’t say anything about closure horseshit to Joe. This was the last kind of closure Joe needed. The kind of closure that was going to drive his father into an early grave if they didn’t find something, anything, to point them in the right direction.

But this case was so cold it bordered on permafrost, and the police seemed content to leave it that way. Danny, Derek, and Ethan had been working non stop to find something – anything to go on, retracing her last days, going back through every pocket and purse and leftover scrap of paper she left behind.

And Joe had sat by through all of it, saying little, doing less, as he worked his way through a bottle of Ketel One vodka.

Danny was very afraid Joe was going to lose himself in the bottom of a bottle if they didn’t find something soon.

Finally the last of the mourners trailed out, and Danny made his way over to where his father stood with his brothers, along with Toni and Alyssa. Alyssa was doing her best to take one for the team, posing for the cameras and granting interviews to everyone as she tried to deflect the press’ attention away from the family. Danny uttered a curt no comment as he plowed his way through the throng and went to stand at his father’s side.

Like a bunch of good lemmings, the herd of reporters trailed Alyssa out to the parking lot. She threw them a wave over her shoulder, motioning to Derek that she’d call him. As the crowd moved, Danny could see one last mourner exit the dark interior of the church.

He did a double, then a triple take.

No fucking way.

His breath caught and his nostrils flared as he took her in. He knew the thick black waves spilling to her waist, the mouthwatering curves elegantly draped in black wool. Her dress went from neck to wrist to knee and should have been modest, but only served to highlight the lush swell of her breasts, the deep curve of her waist, the sexy flare of her hips. The heels of her black pumps tap tapped their way down the concrete steps and headed in his direction.

He dragged his gaze up to her face. Her luscious mouth was painted red and set in determined lines. Even though the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, like him she wore sunglasses, her oversize frames hiding half her face. As though, like him, she didn’t want to chance anyone getting a peek into her soul.

Caroline fucking Palomares.

No, he reminded himself. Caroline fucking Medford.

Raw emotion spun up inside him, threatening to take him down. Lust. Anger. And a bunch of other crap he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.

As she strode toward him, shoulders back, hips swinging like she had every right to be walking back into his life, today of all days, he struggled to put the lid back on the swirl of emotion struggling to break free. He reminded himself savagely of who she was. Caroline Medford.

Wife of James Medford, rich attorney twenty years her senior. The same James Medford who could give her the affluent lifestyle he hadn’t realized she coveted until it was too late.

The same James Medford she may very well have killed to keep herself in fast cars and high fashion.

She was not the seventeen year old who’d promised she’d never leave him when she gave him her virginity. She was not the twenty year old who’d sobbed when he’d announced his plans to join the Special Forces after he graduated from West Point. She wasn’t even the twenty two year old who’d told him to fuck off one final time before walking out on him without another word.

As she drew closer he focused on those differences. She was thinner, for one, he noticed as she got closer. And older, her mouth bracketed by fine lines that came from stress and age. Not to mention the wardrobe. He bet her outfit topped out at over a grand, even more if you counted the purse. A far cry from the wardrobe of a girl from a working class neighborhood who shopped at discount stores and went to private school on scholarship.

She was nothing like the girl he’d known, and he was nothing like the dumb kid who’d entertained romantic illusions like true love and happily ever after.

He took of his glasses, feeling a smile curl his lips for the first time in several days as she stumbled a little.

She was off center. Just the way he liked it. And he was in perfect control. Because Caroline Medford meant nothing to him.

© Jami Alden. All rights reserved

by Megan Hart

Hello, everyone! Thanks for having me here at what I see is affectionately called “the pond.” I hope you all don’t mind that I’m wearing arm floaties and a swim cap.

Limecello kindly asked me to be here today and told me I could either talk about whatever I wanted, or she’d shoot me some random suggestions. What was her first random suggestion, you ask?

I know you love Supernatural so… does the television you watch influence your writing, and if so how?

Yes, I do love Supernatural. I love it like frogs love flies. I love it so much I have actually cried real tears thinking about the day it will no longer be on the air. I am not even kidding. . How do the television shows I watch influence my writing? Well, I really only watch a couple of TV shows…Supernatural and Nip/Tuck – I might get back into Lost this year but I’m not sure. I watch TV on DVD more often than “real” time…but sure, what I watch influences me. Mostly everything influences me. It gives me ideas for storylines, for one thing. For another…guh, Jensen and Jared are made of so much wonderful I can’t help but be inspired to write hot love scenes. Right? If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. . But let’s talk about inspiration. For me, it comes from so many places. I went to a local charity event yesterday, one I’ve gone to for years and yet for the first time I said, OMG! I TOTALLY NEED TO PUT THIS IN A BOOK! And now I will!

.

Often when I go back through my manuscripts, I can remember exactly what I was doing, or what was going on in my life, by what the characters in the books are doing. A certain drink, the weather, a location – in STRANGER, for example, Grace and Sam go to a horror movie marathon (in the original manuscript Grace and JACK went to the movie marathon!) and that came about because I had gone to just such a thing with my sister. I could’ve sent Grace and Sam on a date to something else, but I used the horror movie marathon because it was something I’d done and was fresh in my head. . That’s not to say that everything in every book comes right out of my own experiences, because my goodness, who’d have time! I do enjoy making stuff up a lot, too. Or extrapolating from my own experiences to guess at a different outcome.

.

DEEPER, my upcoming release from Spice (July 2009) has a lot of my own experiences in it, though not exactly the way they happened to me. I took bits and pieces, wove them together, split them apart, made stuff up and generally wrote a FICTIONAL story with real-life inspiration behind it. Some of those emotions and scenes are real, they really happened, just not necessarily the way they do in the book. I mean, really, what’s the point of writing a book if you can’t make it all end the way you want it to, even if it didn’t happen that way in real life? I am the puppet-master! I control the horizontal AND the vertical, my doves…and I love it. I love spring boarding – taking something that happened either to me or that I’ve seen or heard about from someone else, and saying, “what if…?” . For me, it’s all about the “what if…?”

.
And that’s how inspiration works for me.

How about you? Do you like knowing when something has come from the author’s real life? Does it ruin the story for you? If you know anything about the author and you read something you know came from a real-life experience, does it make you feel like part of an inside joke or throw you out of the story?

And finally, Limecello sent this topic, too, which I have to answer: What do you think of Cheetos? I hardly ever think of Cheetos. I mostly just eat them furtively out of the package in the pantry, in the dark, as though eating them where nobody can see me might make them calorie and fat-free. Hmm, now when you all read about a character sneaking Cheetos in the pantry, you’ll know where that came from.

Again, thanks for having me here today!

M

(At least to me…) 

Well, friends, there are a number of things in the works, and because I’m crazy… I’ve decided to throw one more thing into the mix. It’s another way to avoid all the tasks I have in my “normal” every day life. Besides – romance publishing is much more fun than say… an Intellectual Property Journal.

Without further ado… Fridays. Random Fridays, throughout the year, we’re planning on (hoping to?) have Authors stop by and do their thing. [We're thinking if/when these days occur, they will be on the first, and third Friday of each month. Potentially. Maybe. Possibly. Kinda. Sorta. Ish.] There may be contests – or there may not be contests. But honestly, isn’t the shining, wonderful presence of some of your favorite authors enough? Well, it should be.

And… if it isn’t…too damn bad you’re in luck. I’ve been playing around with this idea in my head, and… I think I’m going for it. Considering how organized (HA!) I am… it’s going to be random. But what I’m trying to say is, I personally will be offering contests. I have a number of books, that yes, I myself bought … that I will tragically never read. (Or cannot imagine me reading within the next year, regardless of how long they have been in my possession.) That’s silly. Considering there are so many book lovers out there – why not share the love?

As you know, I’m big on sharing the love/happiness/schtuff. So I’m going to be giving away books. Ideally, once a month.  Most of them are categories (Ok I’m POOR, alright?) (i.e., for me, Harlequin/Silhouette imprints). I’ll use a randomizer for any comments I receive that month (on any post), and prizes shall be awarded. Thus, you don’t have to agree with me or anything. If you already have the book, or don’t like/want it, you are more than welcome to refuse. (In fact, I’d prefer it, because the point is to get these books to a place where they will be read and cherished.)

All these books I’m offering are also new. As in never read. My apologies now, but this is open to US residents only. (Guidelines will follow at some point, when I get to them.) However, I do have a few autographed trade size novels to give away as well. Of course, I might feel really generous. Or happen upon some windfall – so who knows. Maybe I will ship internationally. :X

Now, back to more important matters. Guest authors and events. Our first lucky victim superstar, is Megan Hart. She will be visiting us on January 23, 2009. Mark your calendars!

And stop by often to find out who will be our next guest author. (Yes I realize this is actually the fourth Friday of the month, but we’re going to pretend the first week didn’t exist, because honestly – January is being greedy, claiming five of ‘em and we’ve got to teach it a lesson!)

p.s. – Since writing this post, more information has come in. Anya Bast will be stopping in on Friday, February 6, 2009, to splash about the pond with all of us.

Have we got a treat for you in honor of Bingeaduckia!  The authors of the Suite 606 anthology have put together a special Christmas-themed round robin story for our enjoyment (and amusement!).  And none other than the Grand Dame herself, the Ms. Nora Roberts is kicking off the fun.  Readers, it’s our job to continue the story in the comments section.  The Suite 606 ladies will also drop by from time to time and help us along with the story if we get “stuck.”  Enjoy!

Carrie Littleton sat through a red light for the third time and snarled at the Douglas Fir strapped to the roof of the Toyota Camry in front of her.

She hated Christmas.

The day was one thing, but when the stupid holiday started before the last turkey croquette from the left-over fowl was regretfully ingested it was too damn much.

The holidays meant blasts of Jingle Bells and Rudolph on every trip to the market, Santas on street corner ringing their bell until she wanted to grab it away from their white gloved hand and smack them over their red-capped head with it. The holidays equaled the mass hysteria of shopping in malls log-jammed with people, kids screaming while their parents pushed them into the lap of some weird guy in a Santa suit and traffic that kept the one sane person left in the metropolitan area from getting into the stupid mall in the first place.

Now she was going to be late. She probably wouldn’t get the job, and her fledgling PR firm would sink like a stone. She’d lose her adorable little apartment, be forced to move back home with her parents and have to listen–again–to everyone’s murmured sympathies.

Carrie Littleton, a failure at twenty-seven. And why? Because the man she’d loved and believed in, the man she’d planned to marry on Christmas Eve one year ago had not only left her flat, but flat broke. She had every right to hate Christmas.

Her sharp blue eyes narrowed as the light changed. “Come on, come on, get that damn dead tree through the light. I haven’t got all day.”

Calm down, she ordered herself. Nobody wanted to hire a crazed PR rep. She’d managed to keep her business afloat–barely–after Derrick’s betrayal. She could manage to get into the mall parking lot, walk into the sea of holiday shoppers and keep her appointment with Joseph O’Malley. She’d charm, dazzle and persuade him to hire her, and all would be well. In a few weeks, Christmas would be over. She’d have gotten through a full year since the detestable Derrick.

At last she inched through the light and followed the river of cars into Youngstown Mall. She just needed a break, just one break–and she’d take an empty parking slot as a sign from God. Ignoring the enormous wreaths, the miles of glittery garland, the acres of red ribbons adorning the sprawl of shops ,she began the hunt. With just a little luck, she could still make it on time, impress O’Malley with her presentation–one she’d worked on for days–and justify all the hard work, the lonely nights, the decision to strike out on her own. She went over her pitch again as she drove up and down the packed aisles , and smoothed her hand over her hair to make sure it remained in a perfect and sleek professional chignon.

Then she saw it, like a beacon in a storm, between a red pick-up and a minivan. An empty spot. Nirvana. She pumped the gas, letting out a cheer as she swung into the space.

He came out of nowhere, in his bright red suit. She had an instant to register chocolate brown eyes widening in shock, and the fact that Santa was tall and lean, and minus the beard had a chiseled chin. She slammed the brakes as he jumped to the side. But physics was against them. She felt the thump as her bumper caught him, and he went down like, well, a Christmas tree under the axe.

Her heart tumbled in her chest as she sat for one frozen moment. She’d just run over Santa Claus.

Hello hello hello Everyone! Welcome to the Bingeaduckia dinner party!

If you’ve read any of my ponderings, you’ll know I’m er… a bit obsessed with food. I have a love/hate relationship with it, but it’s probably the one topic on which I can constantly wax poetic. Sybs asked me to “host” a dinner party- and my idea was simply to inundate you with deliciousness. Thus, you’ll all be in food comas and unable to find any mistakes I might make!

Of course – feel free to adapt the menu as you like – there’s no rhyme or reason to it. I always have the strangest cravings, and I went with whims on what we’re having. So first up… appetizers. We have an antipasto platter** – because who can resist that? Beef short ribs, a vegetarian appetizer (possibly wrapped in phyllo), two kinds of bruschetta (is it clear yet that I never could/would have done Atkins?), dumplings, and potstickers. (Yes, they’re pretty much the same thing – in this case – but pot stickers are pan fried. If you ever come across a place that deep fries them, back away, turn, and run. You may also know them as gyoza.)

WAIT! I hope you saved a lot of room – we’re on to soups and salads now. I choose completely different soups – French Onion, and Hot and Sour Soup. Total East and West; and if I were Ming Tsai it’d be some sort of fusion. The salads - just what I thought looked delicious.

Ok and next – please don’t suffer from let-down… but I couldn’t shake the thought of lamb chops. (If you don’t like it- that’s fine – feel free to come up with your own.) Also – if some of you don’t like – or aren’t feeling all the “fancy” food – I went with fish & chips too. I think it’s fantastic – and, there you go. Just so you didn’t feel left out with the latter option, I chose a picture with a nice plating, rather than the more “authentic” sheet of paper. You’ll note there are no vegetarian/vegan dishes. Erm, sorry. First, I totally don’t get it. I can go without for a while, but to never have meat etc- I just can’t. But  second and most importantly – there are no appetizing or palatable vegetarian entrée pictures that I could find. Ok – I just have to talk about the lamb. The first – obviously with a mint sauce – I think both were pan seared -and the second… I couldn’t resist the roasted garlic. So yum.

Oh gosh – and I almost forgot one of my favorites! Crab cakes!

Ok – that’s enough, right? At least… of the savory foods. Now the real gluttony begins. My favorite part of a meal… dessert! As you can see, we have chocolate cake, mango mousse cake, an amazing fruit tart, and … something I love but has thoroughly trounced me a number of times… a pavlova. (Ironically the first time I really nailed it… I did it all by hand. Not fun – but possible. Still – my advice? Try to avoid making meringue that way.)

NO NO NO! Sit back down! We’re not done yet! Or… well actually, you can walk around – let the food settle… and then start again

Ok, so here, we get a tiny bit experimental. First up, a dessert by Pichet Ong. I’ve never had it, but based on reputation and all that wonderful stuff – I’m willing to bet it’s amazing. Next, likely a mousse of some sort and lastly… something I’ve been wanting to make and have been fascinated by (sadly still haven’t had it) – zabaglione!

Ok- honestly, we’re almost done! No worries though – all of this is calorie free! Mmmm calorie free! First up, we have mochi ice cream. I’ve talked about this before-  but it’s worth mentioning (and having!) again. Next, fancy ice cream. Oh – and did I forget to mention the gelato bar? Silly me. I couldn’t decide soo…  and then- yup, petit fours. Can’t have a dinner party without those… right!?

Then last but not least… I really couldn’t have all these desserts and not have key lime pie. And yes, I honestly do like key lime pie. Yum.

**Disclaimer: You’ll note some of the foods have links to them – which take you to blogs/sites with the recipes. I just thought it’d be nice to show where they came from. I haven’t made any of them, or eaten any of them – well… just so you know.

I also went by how the food appears, rather than what the recipe says, because… who cares? :X

And the winner is…

Alison (who commented on Welcome to the Insanity!)

Alison wins:

• A Historical Christmas Present by Lisa Kleypas, Lynsay Sands, and Leigh Greenwood
• Suite 606 by J.D. Robb, Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas
• The Holiday Inn by Farrah Rochon, Phyllis Bourne Williams, and Stephanie Worth

Please send your mailing address to redwyne@gmail.com.  Keep reading and commenting, there will be more!  There’s a lovely post at Book Binge about being thankful, and check out their Scavenger Hunt Contest (Parts One and Two)!

Wherein we spread the love around.  The minds behind Bingeaduckia–the ladies of TGTBTU and Book Binge–are giving away books.  Isn’t that everybody’s favorite bit?  Today they’ll be given away here, tomorrow at Book Binge, so check out both spots.  Each day one lucky commenter ony any of the Bingeaduckia posts will receive a prize pack.

Today’s prizes are:

• A Historical Christmas Present by Lisa Kleypas, Lynsay Sands, and Leigh Greenwood
• Suite 606 by J.D. Robb, Mary Blayney, Ruth Ryan Langan, and Mary Kay McComas
• The Holiday Inn by Farrah Rochon, Phyllis Bourne Williams, and Stephanie Worth

Since we’re playing catch up a bit, anybody who comments on any of the Bingeaduckia posts between yesterday and, say, 8AM Central, Friday December 12, will be entered to win. And stay tuned for more! THIS GIVEAWAY IS CLOSED.

I want to thank everyone for stopping by last week for our Spotlight on the new Harlequin Historical Undone line.  As promised, here are our four lucky contest winners.

The grand prize winner of the Harlequin Historical goodie baseket is:

Pam P.!

Our three runner-up winners, who will each receive a coupon code for a free HH Undone story are:

Sandy (Strlady)

MB (Leah)

TarotByArwen

All the winners need to e-mail me by Friday, November 21 to claim their prizes.  Thanks again to Harlequin, and our four guest authors – Michelle Willingham, Nicola Cornick, Amanda McCabe and Bronwyn Scott.  A hearty congratulations to all our winners!

The current crop of historical romances got you down?  Tired of being stuck in a Regency ball room, or on the back of a horse with a cowboy who hasn’t had a proper bath in two weeks?  Well, Amanda McCabe‘s launch title for the Harlequin Historical Undone line is the cure for what ails you.  In honor of the novella’s launch, Amanda agreed to swim by the pond to give readers the scoop on her intrepid Spanish heroine’s determination to start a new life.

A terrible shipwreck gives the maidservant Maria the chance to taste life as a wealthy countess in exotic Santo Domingo. But what will happen when her deception is discovered by the sexy, mysterious-and very dangerous-Carlos de Alameda?

Santo Domingo in 1535 is full of exotic treasures, and perilous secrets. Maria hopes to leave her old life behind in Spain when she travels there as a maidservant, only to see her hopeful plans destroyed in a shipwreck where she is the only survivor. When she is mistaken for Contessa Isabella, she makes the hard decision to go on with the masquerade-until she is faced with Carlos de Alameda.

Spanish nobleman, official at the island’s royal fortress-and spy for the King-Carlos has battled against every danger in the New World. But he has never met anyone like the beautiful contessa, and he is determined to discover her every secret, by any means necessary-even seduction…

My January ‘o9 book, High Seas Stowaway, features Carlos de Alameda as a minor character.  I was very intrigued with him, and happy to get a chance to tell ‘his’ story! I got to a do a lot of fascinating research for these stories, and only some it involved tropical beaches! I had to learn about ships, caravels in particular, navigation and mapmaking, the early history of the Spanish in the New World, pirates, and, er, rum.

Readers, intrigued by Amanda’s research?  Be sure to check out more at the “History Behind the Book” section at her website.

So how’s everyone enjoying Undone week so far?  Hopefully you all are having as much fun reading about it as I did putting it together!  And to whet your appetite even further?  We have news on upcoming Undone titles for your consideration.

December 2009 brings Notorious Lord, Compromised Miss, a Regency by Annie Burrows.

Debutante Katherine Malahithe has come to London determined to resist the fortune hunters only interested in her money. Her efforts to appear unattractive successfully ward off most suitors–except for Viscount Maldon, a man who wants to avoid marriage as much as Katherine. The handsome, provoking Viscount becomes an unlikely ally, but can either of them escape the altar when friendship turns to passion…and scandal?

Ooooh, doesn’t that sound delicious?  Harlequin is still working on finalizing titles and plot descriptions, but here’s what’s on tap after the new year:

In January 2009, readers will have The Rake’s Intimate Encounter by Ann Lethbridge to look forward to!

Anthony Darby thinks he is ready to give up his life of pleasure–until finds himself at an exclusive club where ladies of the ton indulge their secret desires…and he spies the most alluring woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

Lately widowed, Margaret is determined to savor some of the joys she missed while married to a cold-hearted Russian count. After paying her dues as a dutiful wife, she’s ready to begin living for the moment–starting with a night of passion with Anthony.

Squeeeeee! I can’t wait!

In honor of her launch title for the Harlequin Historical Undone line, Bronwyn Scott has stopped by the pond to tell us all about her novella, Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss.  A hero on a secret mission, a heroine with plenty of secrets of her own, and plenty of witty banter to go around!  What could possibly go wrong for the intrepid romantic couple?

Sophie DuPlessy has everything to gain. Julian Burke has nothing to lose.

Vienna of the 1820′s is Europe’s new glittering capital both in culture and in politics. No one knows the potential of such a setting better than Sophie DuPlessy. Europe has been ravaged by Napoleon’s wars and re-structured by the Vienna conferences and Europe’s premier statesmen. In the aftermath, kingdoms have been absorbed, national boundaries have been redrawn. In the wake of such upheaval, heirlooms have been lost. In certain circles of dubious repute, Sophie DuPlessy has earned a reputation for discreetly recovering such objects. Now, she’s been hired by an Italian count to retrieve a set of jewels, a supposed heirloom of the family. This will be her last job. The reward promised for recovering the jewels guarantees her the financial resources to re-make her life as a horse breeder. But she’s not the only one looking for them.

Julian Burke, second son of an earl, has been sent on crown business to Vienna to ferret out the truth to the rumors that an heirloom once part of the royal treasury during the time of Charles II has surfaced in Vienna. When the Crown wants something badly, Julian Burke is the man for the job. Julian is the most dangerous of men; a man with nothing to lose. No wife to protect, no estate to risk, a fortune so large he cannot be bribed, no care for his reputation and according to most-no heart to break. He is unassailable when it comes to blackmail and other forms of traditional leverage.

But Sophie DuPlessy is about to change that!

One interesting research tid-bit I enjoyed working with for this story was the neighborhoods of Vienna. The neighborhood Sophie lives in is still marked with a lantern today. In her time, the neighborhood housed bakers and other middle working class citizens.

Readers, be sure to visit the Bronwyn’s blog starting November 1 for links to a few of the research sites she used for the story!

Nicola Cornick is quickly becoming one of my favorite “new-to-me-where-the-heck-have-I-been” authors.  To celebrate the launch of the Harlequin Historical Undone line, she’s stopped by the pond to tell us all a little bit about her Undone title, The Unmasking Of Lady Loveless.

The Unmasking of Lady Loveless is set in the same fictional Yorkshire village, Peacock Oak, that I used for the background for my July HQN release Unmasked and also features some of the same characters. I wanted to write a Christmas story and the idea of the beautiful Yorkshire countryside under the snow seemed the perfect setting!

Research Tidbit:

Being a Yorkshire girl by birth I feel very happy when I write books that are set in that county. It’s like going home! One Christmas tradition I particularly liked when I researched the story was the idea of the Standing Pie. This was a huge pie filled with turkey or game, which had a separate pastry crust that stood up on its own! Apparently the pies were huge and one made for the Lord Chancellor in 1832 was so big that it collapsed under its own weight! When I read about this I remembered that my grandmother used to make pies and cook the pastry crust separately. She must have been following this very ancient tradition.

Summary

Erotic author Lady Loveless is scandalising the Ton with her shocking tales that are based on the real life high jinks of society. Engagements are being broken, inheritances lost as a result of her wicked pen and the gentlemen decide that enough is enough – she may spin the most naughtily seductive tales, but Lady Loveless must be stopped!

Lord Alexander Beaumont is convinced that the outrageous Lady Loveless is none other than his estranged wife Melicent, for the manuscripts are coming from the Yorkshire village where Melicent took refuge after the end of their brief, bitter marriage. Alex travels to Yorkshire determined to unmask his errant wife and put a stop to her wicked ways. But when he reaches the beautiful village of Peacock Oak, Alex finds that Melicent – and Lady Loveless – are not what they seem. Will Christmas in the beautiful Yorkshire countryside reunite Alex and the bride he lost years before?

Readers, ever lament that they don’t publish medieval romances like they used to?  Are you like me and ever wondered why Ireland isn’t used as a setting for historical romances more?  Well have no fear, because Michelle Willingham is busy killing two birds with one stone!  And with her latest novella for the Harlequin Historical Undone line, she’s hit the jackpot with a title that would make any Harlequin Presents author weep with jealousy.  In honor of it’s release, Michelle stopped by the pond to give us the scoop behind her story’s inspiration.

Upon a trip to Dublin two years ago, I had visited the archaeological museum in order to research medieval artifacts. But while inside, I found an amazing display of Viking lore. With further reading, I learned that a Norse King, Magnus the Barefoot, attempted to take over Dublin in 1101. Such a daring move made him a fascinating historical figure, and as I plotted my Viking story, I imagined that such a king might indeed be a ruthless and an interesting foe for a Viking warrior.

One of the more tragic stories that I learned about was the massacre at Dunmore Cave, in Kilkenny. During a Viking raid, over 1000 of the Irish were killed, including women and children. The tribesmen and women fled to the cave, where they were caught and killed. It led me to understand the fear that the Irish held for these raids, and how a young woman might feel if a Viking warrior took her.

The Viking’s Forbidden Love-Slave tells the story of Tharand Hardrata, a member of the Norse warrior class who steals an Irish noblewoman from her clan. He intends to trade Aisling Ó Brannon for his sister’s life, after she was taken by King Magnus. If Aisling succeeds in pleasing the king with her body, Tharand believes Magnus will let his sister go. But the Irish captive enslaves him with a pleasure he’d never before known.

Fortunately for my heroine Aisling, Tharand is a man of honor, and with each forbidden moment they share, she learns how very different he is from the stories she heard of Viking warriors, long ago. If you’ve ever wondered what it was like to be carried off by an amazingly hot Viking, then I hope you’ll enjoy this fantasy story!

At the end, Aisling asks Tharand to help her discover what happened to her brothers during the Norse raid. Readers can learn about both brothers in Her Warrior Slave, the story of Kieran Ó Brannon, which is on sale now from Harlequin Historicals.

Readers, for more behind-the-scenes details, be sure to visit Michelle’s fabulous website.

Just in time for our spotlight on the Undone line here at TGTBTU, Harlequin has a sale going on all this week!

Enjoy a little romance in the afternoon? Based on feedback from customers and bloggers who love getting a quick fix with our short eBooks www.eBooks.eHarlequin.com is doing something a bit special in November-Afternoon Delights. This week-long promotion runs from Nov 3rd – 7th, from noon to 3pm EST, and celebrates not only the Undone launch, but our other sizzling short eBooks-Spice Briefs and Nocturne Bites. Every day, several Spice Briefs and Nocturne Bites, along with our four launch Undone titles, will be just 89¢. Just think, a guilt-free afternoon snack can be yours for the same price as a chocolate bar!

Visit http://eBooks.eHarlequin.com/AfternoonDelights for details.

89 cents?! What a steal!

Continuing to offer more digital content than any other traditional print publisher out there, Harlequin launches their brand new ebook-exclusive Harlequin Historical Undone line this month. Much like the successful Nocturne Bites and Spice Briefs lines, Undone are short stories, set in a variety of historical locales, and are spicier reads than what can traditionally be found in the regular Harlequin Historical line.

Harlequin is giving Undone a big push in November, with four launch titles to tantalize readers. After that, the normal publishing schedule will take hold, with one new Undone title being offered a month.

As some of you know, Sybil and I are both massive fans of the Harlequin Historical line, and to celebrate the launch of Undone we’re shining the spotlight all this week. We’ll have reviews for all four launch titles, guest posts, and even some news on upcoming titles. So sit back, relax, and be sure to have that wish list handy.

Contest Alert! 

In honor of Undone Week, we have some goodies to give away to readers!  Sybil’s been busy cleaning her house and recently uncovered a horde of delectable Harlequin Historical goodies.  One grand prize winner will receive a bundle of books, and other assorted HH inspired goodies.  Three runner-up winners will receive a coupon code for a free Undone title at eHarlequin’s eBook Store.   To be eligible to win, simply comment on any of our Undone Spotlight posts this week.  Winners will be drawn at random on Monday, November 10.  Good luck!

If you remember, Kathryn Smith is giving away two copies of the ARC of Let the Night Begin, which doesn’t hit stores until June 24, 2008. There were some great comments on the contest and thanks to everyone who wanted to try to get a copy of Let the Night Begin.

A Vampire Will Not Rest Until He Satisfies His Hunger . . .

And what I, Reign, hungered for most of all was Olivia Gavin. I have never met a woman more beautiful, more tantalizing, and so I made her my bride. She promised me her heart and soul . . . in return, I plundered her flesh, and bound her to me for all eternity. Then, terrified of what I’d made her, she fled.

Now she has returned, desperate for my help in saving her beloved nephew. But my assistance comes at a price: She must share my bed once more, for the feel of her soft skin, the heat of her kiss, excite me still. And I know she desires me, even as she resists her own heart.

Yet, as we rediscover the passion that brought us together, an enemy waits to destroy us both . . .

Congratulations go out to the following:

Mandy C

and

Christine

You each get an ARC of Let the Night Begin. Be sure you email Sybil at redwyne @ gmail .com with your physical address so your prize can be mailed to you. Congratulations again and many thanks go to the wonderful Kathryn Smith.

This excerpt is from the unedited ARC of Through the Veil, so of course it goes without saying that is is RAW. And there are some extras too.

Click here for ShannonC’s review.

Click here for the interview with Kalen.

Click here for a link to a fun scavenger hunt on Shiloh’s website.

And keep an eye out for there could be something fun and surprising with Shiloh come Friday.

Lee Ross always knew she was not entirely human. But when the man who has plagued her dreams her entire life appears in the flesh, can she give up everything she knows to follow him to another realm?

E-X-C-E-R-P-T

Her safe, secure world may be lost to her, forever. Selfishly, Kalen hoped it was. He hoped she couldn’t ever go back because even if by some miracle, they could send the Warlords screaming into hell, he didn’t want her to leave. Ever. If that happened, he wanted her to accept it willingly. To come to him because she had the same need for him that he had for her, not just because she wanted some sex and comfort, of the skin to skin variety.

But he did have to touch her. Instead of pulling her to him, he went to her, stepping behind her. Kalen rested a hand on the nape of her neck, felt the tension mounted there. He dug his fingers into the tight muscles and almost immediately, Lee moaned and dropped her head forward. He brought up his other hand, massaging until the tension slowly eased from her neck and shoulders. “I saw you come in last night,” he murmured.

“I bet I looked like something the cat dragged in.”

His mouth quirked. He didn’t quite understand the words, but he grasped the sentiment easy enough. “Today won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, but what about tomorrow?”

He smiled at the grouchy, surly tone and wished he could say something that would make her smile. “It will get a little easier, with Eira, at least.” The rest of it, though? Her problems were only beginning.

“At least?” Lee asked warily. She wanted to look at him and try to decipher the meaning of those words, but that would involve pulling away from his hands. Those heavenly, wonderfully strong hands—no way in hell was she pulling away. At least not willingly.

When he didn’t answer, she just shut her eyes. “What have I gotten myself into?” she mumbled.

Kalen didn’t answer her. He did that a lot and even though it irritated her, on some level, she was relieved. He didn’t try to offer false comfort or promises. Things were bad around here. When things were bad, people tended to say all sorts of meaningless things, just to make a person feel better. But Lee wasn’t much into falsehoods, even those that were well-meant.

He slid his hands down her shoulders, massaging her upper arms, then back up. One hand cupped over the back of her neck, lingering there for a minute. Then he stepped away. Lee shivered a little at the loss of his warmth and then she focused on the mostly full cup she still held in one hand. It wasn’t quite like coffee—sweeter, darker and it had the same kick that espresso would have. . She licked her lips and looked up to see him watching her.

For just the briefest second, there was a look in his eyes. A hungry, greedy look that made her heart skip a beat, a look that turned her muscles into putty. Then it was gone.

Good thing, too, because if he looked at her like that for too long, Lee wasn’t sure what she’d do. And she had enough problems right now, thank you very much. She sure as hell didn’t need to get tied into emotional knots over the fallen angel with the silver eyes.

Tuesday May 13, Lisa Kleypas visited The Good, The Bad and The Unread. Fun things happened like some great questions discussing heroes and point of view and thanks for the great, wonderful, spectacular responses. There were some excerpts from Lisa’s upcoming books, Seduce Me at Sunrise (can I have it now Sybil? Pretty please?) and A Wallflower Christmas. And, of course, Lisa herself was here all day! SSQQQUUEEE!

Honestly, it’s nice to see all the comments and readers come out and discuss the work of a great author. There were some good responses and if you click any of the links below you can continue to discuss these things. Really, ’cause it’s fun.

Discussion Questions:

Question 1

Question 2

Question 3

Question 4

Seduce Me at Sunrise excerpt.

A Wallflower Christmas excerpt.

The contest (sorry it is already closed, but it’s nifty either way).

Thanks everyone for making it a very good day! And thanks millions to Lisa who provided the wonderful material to be discussed.

We duckies, here on our little blog, love Lisa Kleypas. We love her for spending the day with us here, and we love her for writing such great books.

And she must love us very much because she’s given us a great prize to give away something wonderful and spectacular and fabulous. What could this be? Is the suspense killing you yet?

Don’t want to cause any undue stress, so here’s the prize:

Two, that’s right, TWO ARCS of Seduce Me at Sunrise! Isn’t that wonderful? The book won’t be out until September 30, 2008, so think of all the people that you can make jealous.

The rules of the contest are this:

Two random winners will be chosen from any of the comments on the posts of discussion questions, the links to which are given below. All comments to be considered entered in the contest MUST be posted by 12 midnight CDT Wednesday May 14.

Here’s Question 1

Here’s Question 2

Here’s Question 3

There will be a Question 4 to be posted later today (yes, this will be changed later).

Go, comment and discuss and win an ARC of Seduce Me at Sunrise!