She couldn't imagine talking would make this better. A coldness had begun to creep over her. The white mist seemed to be growing darker, and she began to hear voices: whispers at first, a soft rumble of disquiet that grew louder as they flew. She couldn't make out what the voices were saying, but the sounds carried an undercurrent of tension, like the muffled tones of an argument heard through thick walls.

«Rain, do you hear that?»

«Hear what, Ellysetta?»

«The voices. People talking."

He was silent for a moment. «The Fey are with us in the Mists. Could they be the ones you hear?»

She strained her ears, trying to discern where the voices were coming from. They sounded so near, yet she couldn't pinpoint a source. The sound seemed to come from every direction, all at once. «I don't think so,» she said. Her heart beat a little faster. «Whoever it is sounds angry.»

The mists grew darker still, deepening to a thick morass of shadow in which the agitated murmur of voices became a sharp exchange. She could make out a smattering of words, all spoken in Feyan.

Shei'dalin…Mage claimed…Nei!…tainted…bright…unwelcome…truemate…murderer…enemy!

Dread curled in her belly. «Rain…I think they're arguing about me.»

«I will fly faster, shei'tani.» The grim tone in his Spirit voice frightened her. Whatever those voices were, apparently they weren't good.

She tried to tighten her grip. She couldn't feel the wind on her face or see Rain's tairen body beneath hers. If he was flying faster—if they were even flying at all—she couldn't tell.

Now the Mists were almost black, and streaks of what looked like lightning ripped the darkness all around her, as if she and Rain had flown into the heart of a violent thunderstorm.

The sound of the accusing voices grew louder and louder. Traitor! Shadowfolk! Each condemning word was a crashing boom reverberating in her skull. Tainted! Murderer!

«Rain!» Terrified, she screamed for him, but even in her own mind, she could barely hear her own cry above the din.

Mage claimed!

Dark soul!

ENEMY!

"No!" she cried. "I'm not dark; I'm not the enemy!" She felt a terrible pressure in her chest, as if a heavy weight were settling over her. Icy cold invaded her body. "Please!" she begged. "You must believe me!"

The mist began to thin, and for a moment, Ellysetta dared hope they had passed through the worst the Mists had to offer. Then she saw what lay before her, and her tiny flicker of hope went out.

Images emerged from the mist, solidifying into a wide, green lane. Tall, majestic trees lined the avenue, and beneath the shadow of their arching branches, grim-faced Fey warriors stood with blades drawn in silent menace. They were looking at her in a way no Fey had since that first day when she'd called Rain from the sky: like death longing to slip its leash.

«Rain?» Ellysetta glanced around in sudden panic. She was no longer on his back. She was standing on her own feet in the middle of the lane. She spun in a frantic circle, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Rain!"

"The accused stands alone for judgment," a cold voice declared. A woman's voice, rich with power.

Ellysetta's heart sank into the pit of her stomach, and fear shuddered through her. Slowly, she turned back around.

At the end of the lane stood dozens of red-veiled shei'dalins, backed by twice as many fearsome, red-leather-clad Fey lords. Each Fey lord had unsheathed one of his seyani longswords and gripped it, point down, before him. The naked steel glinted with unmistakable threat.

The thick veils of the tallest shei'dalin rippled, and the female voice spoke again, stern and commanding. "The accused will approach and be judged."

A powerful compulsion urged Ellysetta to walk towards the veiled women. Terrified, she fought the command. Though Rain and the Fey had declared her one of their own, her fear of how a shei'dalin could strip a person's soul bare had not waned. Marissya she trusted, but she wasn't about to submit herself to these unfamiliar shei'dalins, with their hard-edged voices. Though her body trembled from the effort it took to resist, she managed not to move.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What is this? And what have you done with Rain?"

A roar sounded overhead, and a cloud of warm air enveloped her, rich with the scent of magic and tairen. Ellie looked up and gasped with a mix of fear and awe. The sky above was filled with tairen. Jets of flame scorched the air in great, boiling orange clouds.

One of the tairen—a magnificent, pure black creature with golden eyes and wings that gleamed with an iridescent sheen—circled behind her and swooped down in a sudden rushing dive. The great cat's mouth was open in a fierce roar, its massive fangs bared and dripping venom, its sharp, curving claws fully extended and menacing.

Her heart stopped beating. The predator was diving in for the kill, and she was its prey. For one terrified moment, every muscle in her body was frozen into place. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move a muscle even to save her own life.

Then the tairen roared again, and the fearsome blast of sound snapped her out of her paralysis. Instinct took over.

Ellie screamed and ran.

Straight into the arms of the waiting shei'dalins.

"No!" She cried out a protest and spun around, desperately seeking escape, but the women had moved too quickly. She was surrounded, drowning in a sea of scarlet robes. Pale, shining hands reached out. "No!" The shei'dalins' hands made contact. Their fingers closed in tight, unyielding grips around her wrists, her hands, her arms and shoulders. "Nei, please, teska. Let me go!" She tugged and writhed but could not break free.