"Unless they mean to drive a wedge between Celieria and the Fading Lands. Celierians have rarely distinguished between Fey actions and those of the dahl'reisen. The Eld know that. They would use it to their advantage." Rain turned back to the map, frowning at the large expanse of border. "How many troops do you have on the border?" he asked.

"Two thousand, give or take a few hundred.”

"That's not enough. You should have triple that number at least." Rain straightened and turned around. "I can offer two thousand Fey to ward the borders and track the attackers when they strike again.”

Dorian's jaw sagged in surprise. Fey and mortal troops had not stood side-by-side along the Eld border in nine hundred years. Not since Celieria had reconstituted its military after the decimation of the Mage Wars. Fey had periodically quartered themselves in the border keeps to watch for signs of Eld magic and strengthen the wards put in place at the end of the Wars, but never more than that. The Mages had been defeated, and the Fey had withdrawn from the world.

"Your offer is … quite generous, My Lord Feyreisen, and an unexpected honor." Dorian cleared his throat. "I don't know what to say.”

"I do not offer Fey lives or Fey steel lightly," Rain answered. "I have sensed a growing darkness in Eld. The Mages are at work again. It is one reason why I question whether the dahl'reisen are truly behind these raids of yours.”

"Do you have proof of this Mage activity? Reports from spies?”

Rain raised a brow "This I do not need. I sense the darkness, and that is enough.”

"I see." Dorian drew a deep breath. "Well, unfortunately, the Council of Lords will require more than just Fey intuition before they authorize tripling the number of troops along our border, or quartering foreign warriors—especially Fey warriors, given the current suspicions about the dahl'reisen. Besides, the Eld would view a troop buildup as an act of open aggression.

"You must understand," he added when Rain's expression darkened, "our relations with the Eld have settled considerably in the last decades. In fact, the Elden ambassador was here not a fortnight ago seeking to recommence direct trade between our two countries. He spoke quite eloquently, and the terms he offered were very appealing.”

Rain's hands fell to the silk-wrapped handles of the curved meicha at his hips. His fingers curled tight around the grips. "You let the Eld ambassador set foot on Celierian land?" he growled. "You're contemplating trade with those black-souled vermin?" The windows of Dorian's office rattled in their panes.

The king cast a confused glance in Dax's direction. "We've been trading with them indirectly for more than three centuries … ever since the Great Plague threatened the mortal world. They possess the only supply of keio, one of the ingredients required for the cure. We still purchase it yearly through Sorrelian intermediaries, along with a few other goods.”

«Dax . . . » Rain hissed with silent fury.

«You had only just regained your sanity. Marissya and I both agreed it was best you did not know. Thousands—hundreds of thousands—had already died. Millions more would have. There weren't enough healers to have stopped it.»

«And after ... when I no longer teetered on the brink of insanity?»

«They'd been trading for years by then, with no ill effects ... and there remained occasional threats of the plague returning. We didn't see any harm in letting it continue.»Rain shook his head in disbelief and turned his attention back to Dorian. "You Celierians with your short life spans. The Mage Wars are naught but a distant dream to you, a conflict that happened so many generations in the past it has no bearing on the present. But the Fey fought those wars. We died by the thousands, hideously, in those wars. We remember." He speared Dax with another hot glance. "At least most of us do. We still mourn our dead. The Eld are not to be trusted. Ever!”

"Rain—" Dax held out his hands. "There has been no trouble with the Eld since the Wars. Perhaps Dorian's advisors are right … perhaps it is time to heal the wounds”

"Your own mate's sister died at their hands. Her brother became dahl'reisen—forever banished from the Fading Lands—because of what he did in vengeance. You dare say this to me? Trade with the black-souled practitioners of Azrahn?”

"It is because of Marikah, because of Gaelen, that I do feel free to speak," Dax returned. "They are gone from the Fey forever. Nothing can bring either of them back to us. But the Mage Wars were a millennium ago. And the Mages were all but destroyed. You saw to that. The other Eld, those not from Mage families, they don't practice Azrahn.”

"It only takes one.”

«Know your enemy, Tairen Soul. Opening the borders to trade gives us an opportunity to introduce our own eyes and ears into Eld. They can find the proof Dorian needs.”

«Never will I willingly put another Fey life within reach of Eld evil. The darkness is there. It grows. Opening the borders does not help us. It endangers us all the more.»

"Dax is right," Dorian said. "The Mage Wars were a thousand years ago—provoked by a senseless assassination that snowballed into full-scale war thanks to Gaelen vel Serranis's excessive vengeance.”

"The assassination," Rain answered with clenched jaw, "was not senseless. It was retaliation by the Eld for a wound your ancestors delivered two thousand years earlier. The Eld don't forget. And they count on the fact that you do!”