"You don't need to come with us, Rain. You've already said it will be too difficult for you."

Only then did he realize how little she understood. "I am your shei'tan, Ellysetta. What choices you make, you make for both of us."

The rasa, when they heard the reason Ellysetta had come, were horrified. Like Tajik, they refused to let her touch them at first, unwilling to inflict their pain upon her, until Tajik rounded up two grim-eyed Fey and hauled them to the front of the warriors' barracks to stand before Ellysetta. They were the oldest of the rasa, warriors the same age as Bel and Tajik, and they well remembered the destruction of the Mage Wars.

"The Mages have returned," Tajik told them, "and war will soon be upon us. The Fading Lands will need all her sons. The Feyreisa can heal your soul so you may live and fight like a Fey whose steel has yet to taste its first enemy's blood." On the Warriors' Path, he added, «I know it is hard, but accept this gift, my brothers, so we may live and fight together as once we did.» With grim ferocity, he added, «I need you with me, beyond the first battle, to drench the earth in Mage blood and avenge the deaths of those we loved.»

«Mages? You are certain?» The question came from Gillandaris vel Jendahr, a white-blond, black-eyed Fey who was a scorching artist of death with his blades. He'd lost both parents, two brothers, and a beloved shei'dalin niece to the Elden Mages. Not even a thousand years had been enough to dull the pain of so great a wound.

«Bel swears it. Three of them attacked the Feyreisa last week.»

Gil's jaw clenched, and power sparked like stars in his midnight eyes. He dropped to one knee before the Feyreisa and offered her his hands. "May it please the gods, Feyreisa, I accept your offer of healing, that I may defend the Fading Lands and avenge the deaths of those I loved."

"What is your name?" Ellysetta asked.

He tossed back his head, sending white-blond hair rippling across his black leathers. "I am Gillandaris vel Jendahr, Master of Air and Earth and Fire, fourth-level talent in Water and Spirit, friend and blade brother of Tajik vel Sibboreh, and former chadin of the great Shannisorran v'En Celay." He sent a cool glance in Gaelen's direction.

"If I restore your soul, Ser vel Jendahr, will you promise not to bloodswear yourself to me in payment? Will you accept my gift as just that—a gift, freely given?"

Gil's brows drew together. "Lute'asheiva is a warrior's right, not a gift for a shei'dalin to allow or deny, no matter her reasons." Gil had never been a Fey to softpaw around anyone or any subject. He was all warrior, steel strong, blade sharp, fierce in his beliefs and his willingness to defend them. "Nei, I make no such vow."

The Feyreisa's spine stiffened, and for a moment, Tajik thought she might refuse to share her gift. But then her eyes flashed and she reached out to seize Gil's hands in a tight grip. Gil's mouth opened in a soundless gasp. Light blazed around the Feyreisa, enveloping them both. Bel, Gaelen, and Rain all swore and stepped forward to lend her their strength, but before they could get close enough, Gil gave a hoarse cry. The light flared with sudden brightness, then winked out. Gil was shaking, and the Feyreisa looked shocked and unhappy.

"What… ? Is that it?" Tajik frowned. Had she chosen not to heal Gil's soul after all? "Feyreisa, he is a good man. An honorable warrior, one whose death would be a loss to us all. Teska, heal him that he may defend the Fading Lands for another thousand years to come."

A voice, hoarse and disbelieving, said quietly, "She did." Without taking his stunned eyes from hers, Gil reached for his Fey'cha, pulled black from its protective sheath, and slit his palm on the trembling blade. The words of lute'asheiva spilled from his lips in a torrent. Rain, Tajik, Bel, and Gaelen called witness, and with grim acceptance, the Feyreisa took the bloodsworn blade from Gil's hand.

"I do not want this," she said.

"It is yours all the same, kem'falla."

"I was angry, and I was not kind." She looked up from the blade and met his eyes, dark misery in her own. "I hurt you. Sieks'ta. I should have used more care."

Gil rose to his feet, his white-blond head towering over hers by two handspans. "A buzzfly sting, kem'falla. Gone almost before I felt it." The corner of his mouth kicked up. "I suppose I deserved it for defying you. I should have remembered tairen do not take insolence kindly."

"Aiyah, you should have," the Tairen Soul agreed, his voice a low rumble of sound. He laid a hand on the Feyreisa's shoulder, and when she turned to look up at him, his face bore an expression of such fierce devotion, Tajik felt his own chest grow tight. Once he had dreamed of finding a woman in whose eyes he would see the Great Sun rise and set, a woman whose soul would call to his. He no longer hoped for that in this life, but now, he did dare once more to pray for such a miracle in his next.

Rain sent flows of tairen song to Ellysetta, the melody vibrant with reassurance and pride as it rippled along the threads of their bond. «You restored Gil's soul, shei'tani. I can see you are troubled, but there is no need. Look at him. He is unharmed.»

«Is he?"»She looked up, her eyes filled with worry. «I'm not so sure. I'm not sure I'm all right, for that matter.»

«What do you mean?»

«I mean it didn't feel right, what I just did to Gil. I was angry, Rain.» She bit her lip. «He defied me and I didn't like it. I think some part of me actually meant to hurt him.»