Ellie saw her cast one last, frantic look over her shoulder and freeze in her tracks, but even without that, Ellie would have known that Rain Tairen Soul had walked into the room. The shields Belliard had built dissolved. Ellie could hear the clap of Rain's boots against the marble floor as he walked towards her, but it was the way her skin felt flushed and the blood raced through her veins that told her he was near.

She turned to face him. Everything about him called to every one of her senses, leaving her as giddy as an adolescent girl mooning over a handsome boy. His luminescent Fey skin shone against the blackness of his leathers. His eyes glowed with power, and Ellie saw his gaze flick from her to Selianne.

Worried that he would do just as Selianne feared—probe her mind and discover her heritage—Ellie stepped directly into his line of vision, drawing his attention away from her friend. "You're here. How did you know where to find us?" She heard the sound of racing footsteps as Selianne took advantage of the Tairen Soul's distraction and ran away.

The Feyreisen's fierce gaze pinned Ellie in place. "Bel told me. But even if he had not, I would always be able to find you, shei'tani." Anger rolled over her in waves. "You should not have attempted to leave the house without guard. You will not do so again.”

Though his anger frightened her, the barked command made her spine go poker straight. "I'm not your prisoner. You have no right to order me to do anything. I've gone for walks in the night many times in the past and never come to harm.”

"You weren't the Feyreisa before now. While the Mages may have overlooked Ellysetta Baristani, the woodcarver's daughter, believe me they will not overlook Ellysetta Baristani, the Tairen Soul's mate.”

Ellie swallowed. He sounded so certain, so ominous. "Maybe what you say would be true if there were Mages in Celieria, but there are none. There haven't been since the Mage Wars. They were banned a thousand years ago”

His lips pulled back in a small snarl. "And do you really think they've stayed away all this time? They are cunning adversaries, patient and powerful." He advanced on her, and she backed up nervously. "You can be certain they know about you by now, and they're already plotting to capture or kill you.”

Ellie's heart pounded in her chest, beating with sudden fear. She told herself that since he'd claimed her as his true- mate, he couldn't possibly harm her, but that didn't seem to matter much. The way he looked right now, it wasn't hard to imagine him killing her.

"Aiyah, you should be afraid. Perhaps fear will stop you from acting foolishly.”

She turned to run, but only managed half a dozen steps before he caught her wrist.

"Nei, Ellysetta. You will not run from me. You will …" His voice broke off, his attention captured by something just beyond her shoulder. Sorrow washed over her, deep and heartrending. The emotions were his, but she felt them as clearly as if they were her own.

She turned to follow his gaze, and her breath stalled. She had unwittingly run straight for the one room in the museum where she spent most of her time—the exhibit dedicated to the scorching of the world.

More than twenty oil paintings circled the room, vivid canvases painted by Celieria's greatest masters, all depicting the tragic story of Rain and Sariel and the fiery aftermath of her death. Dominating the room was Fabrizio Chelan's masterpiece, Death of the Beloved.

The look on Rain's face as he regarded the great master's most famous work would have made her heart ache even without the stunned, breathless pain radiating from him. Tears filled her eyes. For the first time, she didn't find the famous painting tragically romantic or tragically beautiful. For the first time, she found it only tragic.

He released her hand, and the terrible rawness of his grief faded. "Her death was nothing like that," he murmured. His gaze remained fixed on the central figures captured forever through Chelan's unsurpassed mastery of composition, color, and perspective.

"How do you mean?”

"I never got to hold her like that for the last time. They drew me away from her as part of their ambush, then attacked her to destroy me. She was badly burned. The Elden Mages cut off her head so she could not be healed. I was in the air when I felt her die, and the Rage took me then. I don't remember much after that, but they tell me I incinerated the entire battlefield in mere chimes. There was nothing left of her to hold when I finally came back to sanity." He reached up a hand as if to touch the painted image of his dead mate, then pulled back when sparks flashed from the protective weave. He stood there, staring at the image of Sariel in a dramatic, beautiful death swoon, her cheeks still rosy, unscorched, and glimmering with Fey luminescence, clutched in the arms of the mate who should have been at her side protecting her but had not. "She died alone, at the hands of an Elden Mage.”

The pain of Rain's loss squeezed Ellie's heart. Her throat went tight and tears burned at the backs of her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I know you loved her.”

"It was a long time ago." He frowned at Sariel's image. "That isn't even a very good likeness of her.”

Ellie gave a choked sound that was half laugh, half sob. This painting was one of the most famous masterpieces in all of Celierian history, and yet Rain Tairen Soul declared the image to be not only wholly false but a poor likeness as well.

"In a way, it is good to see this painting and remember," he continued. "That you loved her?”