The Frey Saga Book VI

by Melissa Wright

  Merek snickered, but Barris managed to tamp down his grin.

  “Come,” Willa said, gesturing again. “I’ll show you how to throw.”

  Thea didn’t think she’d heard the girl speak so much in the entire time she’d been exposed to her.

  Willa pointed toward the thin trees beside the camp. “That one’s dead. Hit it center”—she raised her hand—“this high, and I’ll trust you can use them well enough.”

  Thea crossed her arms. “Did someone bet or dare you into this much talking?”

  Willa glared up at her. The look said plenty, and Thea thought maybe she preferred the girl when actually speaking. “Fine,” Thea said. She drew a knife, holding it loosely in one hand as she readied her grip.

  “Not that one,” Willa said. “It’s meant for close-quarters stabbing.” She pointed to the thin dagger at Thea’s thigh. “Use the proper blade.”

  Merek glanced at Barris, while Anvil only stood with his arms crossed before the fire, apparently paying the discussion no mind. Steed was farther out, running a hand over the legs of the horses to check for any potential issues caused by the extended ride.

  Thea took hold of the proper blade, glancing at Willa for further comment, only to find none. She focused on the tree ahead, hating how near to its path Anvil stood, and steadied her grip. She tossed, relieved that it stuck nearly in the right spot.

  Willa shook her head.

  “What?” Thea snapped. “It’s right there.”

  Willa turned to face her, making a small circle with her hands. “A deadly strike has to be this accurate, at least. You’ve killed nothing but yourself, because at this range you’ve no time to reset.”

  Thea blinked.

  “Again,” Willa said. She held her hand out, drawing the knife to her with startling precision. Willa snapped it out of the air and passed it handle-first to Thea.

  Thea cleared her throat and took a steadying breath. Willa turned to mirror her posture, sliding her feet slightly wider and her shoulder to the side. Thea followed the girl’s example, taking aim again as Willa adjusted her grip.

  The sixth time, she hit near enough that Willa seemed satisfied. The girl nodded curtly, facing Thea. “Hit that spot a dozen times a night, and you’ll eventually be decent at something, at least.”

  Thea’s mouth dropped open.

  Merek laughed full-out at her expression, though Willa’s face showed no signs of humor. Merek elbowed Barris at his side and shook his head. “Curses,” he said through laughter, “I’m so glad you chose her for this mad jaunt.”

  Barris went still. Thea’s gaze flicked from one man to the other. Merek, apparently realizing his mistake, straightened sheepishly as he shared a glance with Barris. Thea remembered a similar exchange between Barris and Steed.

  Thea stared at her friend. “You… You were the one who decided who would go?”

  Barris wet his lips.

  “Only her,” Merek said. “Anvil chose Barris here, and Steed chose me.”

  Barris gave Merek a look that clearly said he wished the man would shut his trap.

  “So you chose Willa,” Thea said, “over me.”

  Barris went pale. To his credit, he did not attempt a lie.

  “I wouldn’t have let him take you in any case,” Steed said from behind them. He’d left the horses and was moving toward the group. Steed had informed her he’d not wanted her along before they’d even left the castle, but Thea thought she felt more betrayed by Barris than anyone. She shoved the dagger into its sheath, unable to meet his steady gaze. He wasn’t wrong, though—she could barely use a weapon. She had a single skill, and it was the only reason she’d been allowed to go along. She shifted, wanting to say something.

  A wind blew through the clearing, the leaves shivering on their thin branches, and the lot of them went still. Anvil watched the sky, and Thea realized just how dark it had become. Her hand tightened where it still rested around the hilt of her dagger.

  “They’re a day or so out?” Merek whispered.

  Willa only shrugged. She’d been looking at the ground, after all. There was no telling how far and how fast the creatures could fly.

  Thea really, really wished she’d taken more time to study up on dragons before she’d agreed to come along. Steed carefully unfastened his sword belt, and Merek was moving toward his pack. Thea realized she’d no idea how they planned to catch the thing, but apparently it involved a length of spelled rope and leaving their weapons on the ground.

  “Wait,” Thea hissed. “Why not just drug it?”

  Steed’s eyes did not leave the sky. “Do you know how much tonic it takes to sedate a dragon?”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Maybe you should shift carefully under the shelter of those trees,” he said.

  She might have argued with him—about the trees being enough to shelter her or the fact that he’d asked her to step clear of the fight, she wasn’t sure—but there was a strange shush of air that she could only imagine was a second dragon overhead. Her feet moved automatically, for once not dumping her directly into the fight.

  She thought it was absolutely mad. Thea watched the others, clear of any weapons or belts that might snag on their prey. They would be wrangling a wild beast larger than all of them combined. Steed was right. She’d no idea what it would take to drug a beast that size into stupor—but even if she did, she supposed they’d have to find a way to haul it back. They’d been riding for six days, and it would take at least twice that to get back. Maybe more.

  Madness. And they’d only just begun.

  11

  Frey

  Junnie’s companions, both women tall and golden, their hair in crowns of braid, lowered their hoods. I let my eyes meet Junnie’s and was not at all reassured by what I saw there.

  “Clear the hall.” My words echoed against the stone walls, and Kieren did as I bid. Chevelle moved to stand beside me, his presence the only thing steadying about the entire ordeal.

  In the quiet stillness, Junnie said, “Isa sent a missive.”

  “We received something a bit more substantial.” My tone was dry, but Junnie’s expression made clear she knew exactly what had been delivered.

  “We would like to examine it ourselves, if such is possible.”

  I gave a curt nod. “Rhys and Rider have only just finished. My intent is to return it to its owner by the summer festival.”

  Junnie blinked. “That does seem fitting, I suppose.” She was silent a moment, likely imagining the fey lord’s reaction to such a public gift. “Yes,” she said. “And after we’ve done our own survey, perhaps Ivy and Aster can discuss their findings with Rhys and Rider.”

  I felt Chevelle’s surprise beside me, but only in the tiny flinch of his hand. The light elves were notorious for their disinterest in sharing knowledge of that sort. What was made available in their libraries had been carefully chosen and consistently overseen. Any knowledge of real value was hidden within the labyrinth of rooms deep inside the Council buildings.

  I inclined my head, pleased with Junnie’s offer, and she added, “I would also like a moment with you while they discourse.”

  Privately, she meant. “Of course,” I answered. “Chevelle will show you to the room where the fey is being held. And afterward, my study.”

  Junnie dipped her head. It wasn’t exactly a subordinate gesture, but certainly nothing like how she’d ever reacted to the previous Lord of the North.

  It was late in the day when we finally met in my study. Junnie’s cloak was draped over her shoulder, her hands freshly washed. She smelled of rosemary and eucalyptus, and I had the feeling the body of the fey had been as chilling to her as it had to the rest of us. Chevelle gave me a long look from the entrance before he closed the door, but I knew whatever was said would be private. He did not particularly like any member of Council, but Junnie had saved me more than once. And it was not the old Council. It was only her.

  She sat carefully in the chair
beside me, her pale hair out of place in the flickering light of the study. Everything about her seemed wrong there. Junnie belonged to the sun, to the light. She frowned. “The examination was sufficiently unpleasant.”

  I nodded. “Had I known you were coming, we would have waited. Your men did well with their preservation, but I’m afraid it’s been a bit too long.”

  Junnie sighed. “It was not our intention. We ran into a little trouble on the route.” At my raised brow, she shook her head. “Nothing I haven’t already dealt with.”

  “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

  The corner of her mouth tugged into a tight smile. “I don’t suppose I ever thought it would be. But it was time for a change.”

  Indeed. The old Council had been murderous and manipulative. But that was not what Junnie had come to discuss. “I was surprised, to say the least, when your men delivered the fey body here.”

  Any hint of relaxation slid from Junnie’s face. “Maybe not my men. It seems their allegiance has shifted in their time outside of our own lands.”

  I tapped a finger to the leather binding of a history of the ancients. I’d not shown Junnie the other book, the one Rhys and Rider had found, regarding the wolves and the boundary. I wasn’t sure why. Finn and Keaton were no secret, and Junnie seemed more in touch with them than even I. And yet, she’d held her connection with them close to her chest, like so much else. It was time to move past that. We were fighting a bigger enemy than either of us could face alone.

  I would let my questions come free. “And what of Isa?”

  Junnie’s expression was uncomfortable as she replied. “I have great love for her but I cannot say that I entirely trust her.” Her long fingers ran over the threads of her cloak. “It is an unsettling sort of feeling.”

  I let out a mirthless huff of air. “And yet, I am the lord of your people’s enemies.” Not just me, but also my mother and hers before—Junnie’s own sister had chosen to live in the North among the dark elves.

  Junnie’s eyes, bright and clear, met mine. “They are not our enemy. The discontent was driven by the actions of one man.” Her mouth turned down at one corner. “And you know as well as I do that our kind had as much wrongdoing as he.”

  My hand stilled its fidgeting at Junnie’s words. Our kind. Because regardless of how I felt about the land where I was born and the elves who surrounded me, I was her blood too. My mother and her forebears were light elves, even if my own mother was half Asher’s bloodline and dark elf. Junnie considered me one of hers.

  I leaned toward Junnie, the only one left of my kin outside of the girl, Isa, whom Junnie was trying to save. “Asher knew how the ancient boundaries interfered with fey powers. He’d been studying the energy of all kinds. He wanted me.” But I wasn’t enough. With the influence of my mother, I’d refused to fall into line. “He wanted me to use an army of humans. And for what?” I shook my head. “The changelings are not the only beings at fault. And we’ve no idea if the deadening is even due to the humans at all. What if Asher’s meddling with the darkness set the whole thing afoot?”

  Junnie’s gaze was steady on mine. “You call it darkness.”

  “It is.”

  “And yet—”

  Her words fell off at my expression, but I would not discuss it. The secret was not mine to share.

  Junnie’s expression softened. “There is no reason to hide it. Not any longer. The threats to you both are gone.”

  They’d been replaced by new threats, dangers that dealt with the very core of what Asher had done. I ignored her urging. “Asher studied the boundaries the ancients laid in place to discover how they affected fey magic. He studied the methods with which to transfer and bind.” He’d wanted me to bring down his enemies, wanted me at his side. He’d gone as far as to hurt Chevelle to get to me and had tried to turn me against my own mother. I’d taken it personally. I’d missed his grander plan. “Whatever he discovered, the fey now know.”

  “I will pay the spellcaster recompense for what he has done.” Junnie’s words were cold. “Your concern will be how to resolve your bargain with the fey lord.”

  “Spellcasters,” I corrected. Junnie’s brow drew together, and I explained, “Veil paid us a visit several weeks ago. Apparently, there is more than one.”

  Her gaze darkened for just a moment. “What else?”

  I crossed my arms. “He stole a gem from my own private collection.”

  “That cursed ruby again?”

  “No.” I started to explain my theory, but Junnie winced.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  My study was deep inside the castle, well insulated from sound, and yet, a strange screeching reached us, muffled by stone. I tended to forget the others had better hearing than I, but usually by the time someone noticed, my guard had sounded a call. This was something else.

  I stood, feeling a strange sort of brush in my mind. Distress. Anger. “Junnie,” I breathed, “I think you’ve come to us just in time.”

  12

  Veil

  The fey had never postponed a festival, not even when their entire world was in peril, and that was how Veil found himself preparing to be encircled by a mass of dancing, costumed revelers as they celebrated the change of season. Summer was coming, whether he was ready for it or not.

  His new home was finished, grander and more opulent than the last, but he stood instead in a narrow chamber of the lair, fastening jewels to the cuffs on his arm. Liana found him there, shirtless and brooding, when she entered a place in which she’d no business being.

  Veil glanced at her and could not help but shake his head. She’d shown up in a gown of elven royalty, complete with black-leather bracers and braided hair. “This is what you chose for the first festival of summer?”

  She swirled the inky skirt around her, and Veil could swear he heard a smile in her voice. “Do you like it? I thought it would make a wonderful display.”

  He slid an emerald ring onto his first finger, carved citrine on his second. “It will certainly attract attention.”

  Liana stepped closer, examining his healing wound and then the pile of stones on the table. She leaned forward, and he could smell the herbs on her. She must have come straight from caring for the halfling, no doubt flying with her pixies. Her eyes caught on the dragonstone.

  Veil slipped it into his palm then turned to face her, sliding the gem to a pocket. “What brings you into my private quarters this day, changeling?”

  She frowned at him, and he nearly felt regret at the reminder of what she was until she said, “I thought you preferred visits this way.”

  He did not know if she was referring to his recent call in the elven lord’s private chambers or the fact that he’d meant to keep his associations with Liana private, but he didn’t like either implication. “I have a festival to bring underway,” he told her. His eyes strayed to the collar of her gown, buttoned up the length of her neck. She had that color again, that blush of ripe summer fruit that was not truly hers.

  She smiled at him, her eyes dark. “That’s why I’m here, of course. I would not miss the summer festival.” Her own gaze trailed over him, across bare collarbone and shoulder to the jewels on his arm. “It’s always been my favorite.”

  He would not be drawn into her games. He picked up his shirt from where it had been draped over a chair and slipped the thin garment over his arms, but Liana only moved closer, her fingers deftly fastening the buttons adorned with gems.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe this dress is all wrong for the festival. What do you think, something in red?”

  He turned to tell her he did not care, to make clear her place, but her hair had gone from amber braids to short golden waves. She was so powerful, he could feel it. Keane and Pitt had not been stronger than Liana—it was only that she’d not been able to fight them both on her own. The elves did not understand that. They thought her weak. She was nothing of the sort.

  Liana had never been la
cking in power, but on fey land, near the source, she felt as if she was more dangerous than any of his foes. And yet they’d trusted her within their castle walls, just as she stood within his own.

  “Tell me how you draw on the base magic outside fey lands.” His voice was nearly a whisper, though he’d meant nothing of the sort. She was near him again, closer than she’d any right to be. “What is it?” he asked. “A spring? A crack? A stone?” He would not say the other. He would not ask if it had been spellcast.

  She grinned, her teeth flat and straight and very unlike fangs. “Ask me something else.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink, and despite his resolve, he murmured, “Let me see you.”

  The color fell with her grin, but she did not move away. He’d no right to ask it, even as the lord of the fey, but he wanted to see her true form. He wanted to see her bare.

  “And if I do?”

  He gave a small shake of his head, not taking his gaze from hers. “No bargains. Freely or not at all.”

  She bit the edge of her lip as if being coy, as if the idea that she would ever give something freely was daring. He knew her better than that, even if it felt like he knew her not at all.

  There was a sound in the passageway, and Veil gave her one last look, one last chance. When she only stared back at him, he said, “I have to get to the festival.”

  “I will see you there.” She gestured toward the length of gown that nearly trailed along the floor. “I have to change first.”

  Veil purposefully glanced at the shelf of gems before turning to stride from the room.

  Cyren and Kel waited at the end of the passageway, each suited in finery the color of primrose and red yarrow. They’d twined thin crowns into their hair, fashioned after the fey lord’s own, and lined their eyes with kohl. Veil strode past them as together they turned, following him out past the dozen high-fey guards, each of whom had let Liana pass.