"Aiyah," Rain admitted softly.

Rowan, Kieran, and Kiel crowded closer. Their usual Fey-stoic masks fell away to reveal a mix of awe and envy. No warrior had truemated in a thousand years, not since before the devastation of the Mage Wars, and there was nothing a Fey warrior longed for more. But the gift of shei’tanitsa bonding was so rare, the usual lot of a warrior was to live and die without ever finding the woman born to complete his soul. It was the reason Fey warriors strived for centuries to master the intricacies of magic and swordsmanship, the reason they vied to be the best, the bravest, the most honorable of all warriors-hoping, always, to prove themselves worthy of the gods' greatest gift.

"What does it feel like?" Rowan asked.

Rain rolled his shoulders, searching for words. These were his friends, his blade brothers and the warriors sworn to defend Ellysetta with their lives. Although Rain's feelings were very personal and intimate, the wonder of the shei’tanitsa journey was a treasure that courting Fey had always shared with their unmated blade brothers.

"Peace," he said at last. "Like waking in a field of soft grass on a warm spring day and knowing for the first time exactly who you are and what your purpose is in the world. And humbleness, as if you were standing before the Bright Lord with all the dark ugliness of your soul laid out before you, and despite everything, he showers you with light until every last stain fades away." A smile spread slowly across his face. "Flame, too-especially under the effects of her weave-but I'll say no more about that. Some things should remain private between a Fey and his mate.”

The warriors, who had been nodding in silent awe and trying not to show their envy, now grinned and laughed.

Bel put a hand on Rain's shoulder. "May the gods light your way, Rain, and your journey end in joy”

"Beylah vo, my friend." Rain exchanged a warrior's arm-clasp with Bel and pulled him close for a brief, tight embrace. Of all the Fey, there was none he loved so much as Bel. A week ago Rain had feared for his friend. The darkness that eventually consumed all untruemated Fey warriors had been so close to claiming him. But Ellysetta-miraculous, unexpected Ellysetta-had wiped centuries of death from Bel's soul with one effortless touch of healing warmth, and now Bel had joy once more.

One after another, Kieran, Kiel, and Rowan followed Bel's suit, exchanging arm-clasps and embraces, thanking Rain for sharing his felicity and offering their own well wishes in return.

By the time he left them, they were moving with brisk purpose, shaking off the weariness and excesses of last night. Only Adrial was still sleeping, but Rain doubted the others would let him do so much longer. Ellysetta had been attacked, and fierce Fey honor would demand that the warriors of her primary quintet take their place at her side, protecting her from all harm.

Kolis Manza, apprentice to the High Mage of Eld, groaned as he came back to consciousness. His head was splitting. His mouth tasted as though he had swilled raw sewage. He hawked and spat a foul-tasting glob of spittle on the floor.

Bright Lord's lice-infested balls. That little witch's Spirit weave had been beyond powerful.

He rose up on his elbows and grimaced in distaste as a limp hand slithered down his chest into his lap. Numerous limbs were draped over him, plump, naked, female limbs. They belonged to the four plump, naked, female bodies that lay scattered like so many dead leaves across the bed, eyes open and sightless, chests gaping from deep, slashing wounds that some other man might find astonishing for the lack of blood surrounding them. The index finger from the right hand of each woman was missing.

Kolis shoved the bodies aside and stood. His dagger lay on the floor beside the bed next to a small, bloodstained leather pouch. He bent to retrieve both and inspected the black jewel on the weapon's pommel. The dark gem sparkled with rich, satisfied ruby lights. At least he had not wasted last night's bed sport. Four new souls were trapped in the stone, awaiting his judicious use of them. And with so many Fey infesting Celieria City at the moment, they would come in handy. His first use would be to open a path through the Well of Souls so he could travel to Ed to bring the High Mage his news.

Despite the pounding in his head, Kolis's lips curled in a satisfied smile. At last he had the proof his master Vadim Maur had tasked him to find: the Tairen Soul's red-haired truemate possessed magic-and far more than just a small hint of it.

Though only the heads of Celieria's noble Houses had been invited to last night's dinner, Kolis had attended in the body of Jiarine Montevero, the lovely Celierian noblewoman who'd granted Kolis access to her soul in return for wealth and increased power. Jiarine had enough hearth witch in her that through her eyes he'd been able to see the flows of magic emanating from Ellysetta Baristani.

Those flows had been astonishingly powerful. Even inhabiting another's body, Kolis hadn't escaped the effects of Ellysetta Baristani's irresistible Spirit weave. After leaving Jiarine to her mindless rutting, he'd stumbled his way to this small, filthy house in the brothel district, summoned the madam and all three of her girls, and mated them time and time again until the small bells of the morning, when he had taken their blood and their souls in a last frenzied burst of passion before falling deep into a well of unconsciousness.

No, Ellysetta Baristani was no simple hearth witch like Jiarine, no Celierian child altered by remnant magic left over from the Mage Wars. Her weave had been too pure for that, too strong. Without a doubt, she was the one who had been lost so many years ago, the one the High Mage had been seeking for so long. Without a doubt, Vadim Maur's great experiment had borne powerful fruit.