No longer was the Lake of Glass a place of loss and death and hopeless darkness, but rather a memorial of peace and beauty, glistening with the golden promise of a new day.

Ellysetta turned in his arms, her leaf green eyes shining, her lips curved in a smile that filled his heart with long-forgotten joy. "Sha vel'mei, kem'san." She cupped a hand to his jaw. "Take me back to Teleon so I can make a few good-byes of my own, and then let's go home … to the Fading Lands."

Chapter three

Celieria ~ Teleon

"Well, well, look what the tairen dragged in." Kieran vel Solande slipped a polished meicha scimitar into his hip sheath and turned to greet the warrior who had just passed through the Spirit weave protecting Teleon from outside eyes.

Gaelen vel Serranis paused just inside the lower bailey and let his gaze sweep across the restored estate. "Impressive."

The sounds of industry filled the air as on every level of the city-fortress Fey toiled in the midmorning sun. All Fey with enough command of Earth to make themselves useful were once again busy replacing the remaining Spirit weave buildings with real mortar and stone, while Air masters assisted in shuttling loads of blocks and wood, and Fire masters forged metal for gates, door braces, and weaponry to aid in the defense of the city.

"Greetings, Uncle. You've been gone so long, I was beginning to think a lyrant made a meal of you." Kieran made a tsking sound and shook his head. "Ah, well, hope springs eternal."

Gaelen narrowed ice blue eyes at his sister Marissya's son. "Still full of sass, puppy? Clearly, vel Jelani isn't working you hard enough if you still have breath to jabber."

"Ha. Where've you been?"

Gaelen reached out to ruffle the younger Fey's head, a deliberately patronizing gesture that made Kieran scowl and jerk away. "Not your business, youngling." It was Gaelen's turn to grin, and he took pleasure in it. "Where is the Tairen Soul?"

When Kieran just glared and pressed his lips closed, Kiel rolled his eyes and answered in his stead. "On the third level with Lord Teleos, finishing what he can before he and the Feyreisa depart."

"And the Feyreisa?"

"On the upper level, planting a memory garden for her mother with Marissya and the twins."

Gaelen nodded, then glanced at Kieran and furrowed his brows. "What's this mess?" He reached out to straighten the leather Fey'cha belts crisscrossing Kieran's chest. "You call yourself a warrior? Sloppy, vel Solande. Very sloppy."

Scowling, Kieran looked down to see what his uncle was talking about. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back with his own Fey'cha pressed against his neck, and death was glaring down at him from the eyes of the man who'd little more than a week ago been the most dreaded and feared dahl'reisen who ever lived.

"Very sloppy indeed," Gaelen repeated softly, his tone a cold wind, his eyes lethal shards of purest ice. "Are you so eager to die?"

Kieran froze. Part of him was sure this was yet another of Gaelen's humiliatingly effective demonstrations of how little the current generation of Fey knew of true sword mastery. Vel Serranis had pulled one of the black-handled blades from Kieran's chest straps rather than a lethal, poisoned red Fey'cha.

Another part of Kieran feared that maybe this wasn't a lesson after all.

"Answer me, puppy," Gaelen snapped. "Are you so eager to die?"

"Are you?" Kiel growled with low menace.

That was when Kieran noticed the Water master leaning over Gaelen, two red Fey'cha pressed against Gaelen's neck and belly.

Gaelen spat out an oath, and the knife pressing against Kieran's windpipe eased back. When Kiel's blades withdrew as well, Gaelen rolled left, sprang to his feet, and glared at them both. "The Mages are at work in the north. A warrior has disappeared for days on end, and you do not know where he's been. Yet you welcome him without suspicion? You stand there like a dull-witted fool while he strips you of your own blade and threatens you with it? I ask you again, are you so eager to die?"

He expanded his disparaging gaze to include Kiel and the dozen glowering Fey standing outside the blocking weave he'd woven when he'd lunged for Kieran. "And that goes for all of you as well. Not one of you even cleared steel from scabbard before I had a blade at your brother's throat. Vel Tomar, at least, has tolerably swift reflexes…and good instincts." The last he added with grudging approval. He nodded at the deadly red-hilted Fey'cha still gripped in each of Kiel's hands. "Red is the right choice when you suspect the threat may be real."

Gaelen dispersed his final shield, and the surrounding Fey muttered angrily and sheathed their weapons.

"That's a good way to get yourself killed, vel Serranis," someone called out.

"By you lot?" Gaelen scoffed. "Not flaming likely. I'd have to be sel'dor pierced, bound, and blinded before you had the advantage. Are you the best the Fading Lands can produce? Gods save us all." Gaelen shook his head in disgust. "What is the Tairen Soul thinking to let his mate stay so long outside the Faering Mists with naught to keep her safe but a pack of untrained infants scarce weaned from the breast?"

Kieran slapped the dust off his leathers and, scowling, caught the black Fey'cha Gaelen tossed back to him. "He was thinking to protect her family on their journey to their new home—and to give the Feyreisa as much time with them as he could before she passes through the Mists. Our scouts have been securing our path five miles in every direction. And, for your information, there have been no attacks—nor any sign of danger."