«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 that sparkled 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.»

Thick swaths of embroidered velvet hung across the glass, buffering the room against the chill of the north’s snowy winters. Dorian pulled back one of the hangings and peered out across the torchlit 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’s servants have prepared 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 her quintet’s twenty-five-fold weaves 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 a 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.

“I wove what peace on him I could,” she said, “but I’m worried. 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. 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. “Rain…”

“Aiyah? “

“About what you said earlier to Dorian. The bit about my 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 on 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. And he said 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 lay 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 you 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.”