He would deal with that later. He kicked off the earth without care for grace, bursting through the canopy to fly above the trees. The sky was lightening already, sunrise so close that he could feel it beneath his skin. The ceremony would wait for him, but the fey court was anything but patient. He flew straight and true, and when he finally landed among the revelers, it was to their riotous cheers. There, he felt grounded. There, he understood exactly who he was.
13
Frey
We moved swiftly down the corridor, our feet silent on age-old stone. Junnie’s dog had been waiting silently outside my study door, immediately trailing after Junnie and me, the massive beast’s ears pointed at some sound my own could not hear. Echoed shouts from the outer wall reached us as we cleared the interior walls, and in the courtyard, castle guards struggled to keep their gazes on task.
I supposed I should have warned them.
Junnie’s stride was longer than mine, but she did not hurry past me. I wondered if she could tell what awaited us, as I could. But her eyes were pinched at the corners, as if struggling to reach what felt nearer to me every step. “Surely, you can feel it,” I said.
She glanced at me, her gaze sharp. She could not, apparently.
My steps slowed. “Junnie, the wolves. You can speak to them.”
She shook her head. “Of course not.” A screech tore through the air, and Junnie glanced toward the battlements. “I can indeed sense their ideas, or maybe ‘direction’ is a more apt term. But I cannot speak to their minds.” She scoffed. “Certainly would have saved a lot of trouble these past few seasons if I could.”
I stared at her. It was as if she knew the beast was out there, but that was all. She couldn’t reach it.
Her expression said she was tired of waiting, so I gave her a small smile as we continued. When we finally reached the outer walls, I was surprised to see how far away the lot of them were. My awe stilled as I tried to make out the figures, praying silently that each of them was there. I turned to hurry down to meet them and caught Junnie’s gaping stare.
Her blue eyes slid from the group to mine. “Yes,” I said to her astonishment. “That is exactly what I have done.”
“The gem,” Junnie said. “You said Veil stole a gem from you.”
I nodded. “Dragonstone.”
“And so…”
I shrugged. “I’m going to let Rhys and Rider study him. See if they can discern how the power works. How its energy flows and how it feeds from the source.”
Junnie’s gaze caught on something behind me, and I turned, finding Chevelle. He stood on the balustrade, staring out at the beast and his guard. His gaze came to me, as if he could feel me watching him, and I wondered if what I saw in his expression was awe—Not for a wild, captured beast, but for me.
I smiled at him. He smirked.
A brush of distress, hot and searing, cut through any feeling of triumph. “Let’s go,” I told Junnie. “They need our help.”
We met my guard on the rocky slope that led to the least-used paths to the castle. The way was treacherous but less populated than the other routes. Junnie and I dismounted our horses to greet the group, my senses screaming as the beast struggled against spelled rope and six men. The creature was enormous, towering over even mounted soldiers. It was hard to take my eyes from the animal, but then I found Steed, bloodied and bruised, his shirt torn at the neck. Anvil rode opposite him, anchoring the dragon’s massive head from the other side. It was not a small feat, as even the beast’s head dwarfed Anvil in size.
Behind Anvil rode Merek, who seemed relatively clean, and Barris, who had a thoroughly bandaged arm. Farther back rode Thea and Willa, each holding ropes that attached behind the dragon’s neck, stretched taut over its bound wings and weighted tail. Alive, all of them. The relief I felt at the sight brought an unpleasant realization that I’d not expected as much.
I stepped forward, and Junnie’s dog whined quietly as her direction held him back. I glanced at her, just to gauge her reaction against my own. A soft laugh escaped me with a breath of air. When she looked at me, I said, “Junnie, I’ve never asked. What have you named this beast of a dog?”
Her brow shifted at my odd question, but she said, “I’ve not chosen one yet.”
I nodded. “I’ve not named my hawk, either. I’m sure one will come.”
The dragon screeched, its cry ripping through the hazy mountain air to reverberate over stone. My guard drew to a stop in a clearer spot of ground, carefully unwinding their ropes from saddles to take them in hand. Steed leapt free of his horse, only to immediately be yanked toward Anvil’s side as the dragon bucked and twisted. The three on the far side moved backward as the three on Steed’s side worked to regain control. Tiny little Willa dug in, shouting commands at Thea, who herself was being pulled by the beast. It rolled again, snaking its body so that a bound wing caught on the rope, the wing claws snapping one line free as the bulk of the beast’s back leg slammed into Merek.
The creature was angry, I could feel it. It was frustrated, exhausted. It wanted to be free. I reached for Junnie, wishing again that I had my staff, and held on for support as I threw myself toward the mind of the dragon. I expected it to be the hardest thing I’d ever done, that it would hurt worse than the humans, that it would be impossible to even reach, let alone control. But it felt so close—so much like a familiar, easy thing.
I fell into its mind, melting seamlessly with what seemed not so different from my birds, though it was an entirely incomparable thing. But the ease with which I felt it, the simplicity of that connection, was one that I had known all of my years.
I sighed, opening my eyes to find the dragon entirely still, standing in place as it watched me. Its chest swelled and fell in rumbling breaths, scenting the air with sulfur. I stepped closer, staring up at its intelligent eyes as it huffed a breath at me through the long slits in its nose. The creature had leathery wings beneath its bindings and sharp spikes lining its neck and back. They trailed down the center of a scaled reptilian body, black with hints of a deep, dark red. Its tail was long and presumably barbed at the end, based on the way it had been wrapped in twine.
I startled as a loud clang sounded in the silence—Anvil drove a spike into the ground to tie off his rope. Steed did the same on the opposite side, and then the others followed, walking warily forward and past the dragon’s head. It must have been the most dangerous part, for they’d bound its snout in several layers of the spelled material, only leaving it room to breathe.
“You’re safe now,” I carefully told my guard.
Thea stepped past Steed to stare at me for a moment before her eyes trailed to the dragon and back again. “You mean…” Her hands came up to her hips. She blinked, the smear of blood over her temple crusted into her brow. “You could have just done this from the start?”
Steed, for once, did not reprimand her for speaking out of turn.
“I did not know,” I said truthfully. I could not have anticipated it. I had only thought to study the creature’s power from the outside, not that it would be possible to reach inside its mind.
“Have you never been exposed to one?” Junnie asked.
I shook my head. “When I was a child. But from a distance. I never thought—”
“What is it like?” Junnie’s voice was low, reverent.
“Like nothing I’ve ever felt,” I whispered, “and yet, so much like my birds.”
She hummed, and I wondered if she—like me—was thinking about how each of us had a stronger connection to our favored beasts and what that meant.
Barris made to cross his arms over his chest, only to drop them again when he brushed his bandaged wounds.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We’ve secured a place in the keep. I’ll take the dragon there. Please come in for rest and tending.” My gaze met Thea’s. “I trust everyone is well?”
She frowned, which was not entirely out of character. “We’ve a few burns I’d like to have looked at.” S
he let her words trail off, obviously questioning whether Ruby was awake without saying it outright.
I gave a small shake of my head.
Junnie stepped forward. “Come,” she said. “I can look at them. We brought fresh supplies from our gardens and some new varieties I believe will be of much use to you, Thea.”
Thea glanced at Steed briefly before moving to follow Junnie, but his eyes were on me, waiting for orders. He looked tired, and I felt some regret for it.
“Thank you,” I told him.
Anvil chuckled, standing at the men’s sides as Willa kept a watchful gaze on the dragon. “Aye,” Anvil said. “His reward will be legend.”
I smiled, finally letting the scope of what they’d accomplished sink in. “Like no other,” I agreed.
That was to say nothing of what might happen once the fey found out.
14
Veil
The festival that ushered in the summer season was a bright and raucous thing. The sun was low in the sky, and the revelers were unrestrained, feral with drink and dust. Veil had allowed himself wine but managed to restrain himself from partaking in much of the revelry. The spellcasters would have been fools to show themselves among a crowd of high fey—those who knew the changelings’ intent was not to save the entire kind from an ill fate, but only themselves. Not that the fey would hold the self-serving changelings to task, but they would be captured or killed for their valuable information, for the how of the exchange of power.
Two fey women danced before Veil’s dais, their energy tingling against his own, warm and inviting. He had been presented with more than food and flesh—at the base of his dais rested piles of offerings for the pleasure of the lord of the court, including rare gems and roots, fine clothes and seeds, thick pelts, and crowns of carved antler. He would share the spoils with his guard and decorate his new palace with their splendor, but he did not truly care for those things.
A fire fey sent a flame to dance overhead and laughed when the wind blew it into sparks and ash. Three frost monsters clung together, stumbling into a fall as one when the first caught his robe on the spear of a drunken warrior. Two tall females danced, their wings intertwined, as another watched from below, her thin fingers playing along with the movement. Beyond them, a fight broke out, the crowd laughing and jeering as a wood nymph knocked a man to the ground. The fey surrounding the prone man surged forward, their energy swelling within Veil.
The fates’ dance had replenished the energy that fed them all, and Veil felt almost drunk with the power that swam through him. Even with the darkness that threatened them, Veil’s connection to the base energy was stronger there, made more potent by the willing release of so many fey. He let the power fill him then released it once more. His skin felt alive, his chest alight. He wanted to join the others, to dance, to drink, to do much, much darker things.
Across the court floor, shimmering sapphire caught his eye. It was not a usual hue for a summer festival and certainly not meant to blend in. The gown was long and layered, silken strips floating over the lean legs that moved beneath it. Her feet were bare on the warm, flat stones, her arms and neck exposed to the last rays of sun. Her hair was long and loose, more white than blond, her face a sharper angle, her lips soft and full. But her eyes were as black and depthless as ever.
She did not smile as she crossed the court, and it only made his blood run hotter. He could not stop the images of her running through his mind of slender fingers grazing the flesh of his thigh, claws pressing into his back, the way she would move beneath him, and the taste of ripe summer fruit on her skin.
His hand twitched to beckon her, to call her to the dais in front of everyone. But he did not need the spectacle. He wanted her alone.
He could not say it was shame. What he felt was something more possessive. It had started the moment they had brushed energy, when they had pulled the halfling fey from the fires of Hollow Forest.
Liana stopped midway across the floor, drawing a cloak off an unaware reveler before pulling it tightly over her exposed shoulders. Her gaze held something far from his own, and Veil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He tasted the bitter tang of barberries and regretted partaking in wine.
Cyren leaned forward slightly, eyes on a watersprite in the crowd. Kel, beside him, ran his fingertip over the rim of a tall glass of wine, his nail long and narrow and dripping red. Among the crowd, a bawdy song took root, spreading like fire through the drunken revelers. A voice nearer Veil picked up the tune, ringing out high and sweet and impossible to ignore.
He made the effort.
Liana’s gaze trailed from Veil toward the trees, and a sense of unease ran coldly through his veins. It was not another gift, not an offering he would want to see. His fingers curled into his palm, but there was naught he could do. It was too late to act.
A string of pixies fluttered through the trees, broken and scattered in their rush. Behind them followed a half dozen high fey towing a parcel netted by spellwoven twine. The parcel’s size was troubling enough, but Liana’s unspoken warning made it worse. Veil purposefully uncurled his fingers, brushing them over the wing of the fey who rested at his feet. It would not do to let on that any of it was worrisome. Let them think their fey lord was only at play.
By the time the procession had made its way to the dais, half the crowd had given their notice.
The front and foremost of the messengers bowed deeply. “A gift from the elven lord.”
“How enchanting,” Veil purred. “She does so continue to make sheep’s eyes at me.” There was a rumble of laughter through the crowd, and Veil considered playing it off, demurring to open the parcel later. But far too many had eyes on it, and the shape of the thing was too obvious for minor deceit. He ran his fingers absently over the wing that brushed his thigh, the fey at Veil’s feet having shifted to see better. The rest were drawing nearer, their interest not easily lured away.
If he attempted to ignore the presentation with the audience’s attention on him, it would seem like cowardice and fear.
He straightened, gesturing widely with a hand. “Let us have it then, this gift from the halfling lord.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but he’d not much choice in saying them.
The parcel had been laid on the steps of his dais, and the fey who had delivered it let their gazes pass over it before finally bending to remove its shroud. The air filled with the sudden tang of herbs, elven magic, and tonics unfamiliar. A breeze rose, mild enough to avoid notice had it not been scented with cardamom and flowering lianas. Veil resisted the urge to press his eyes closed.
One by one, the layers of the shroud were removed, leaving a single transparent cloth over the thin gray form that had once been fey. There were no murmurs of the deadening coming from the crowd, only silence and stillness. But Veil could feel it, the strange emptiness like a hollow. Like barren ground.
It tasted of the foul magic of the elf lord’s Second, and Veil disliked that most of all.
He stared down at the body, the shell of a one-time nymph. She was gone, her energy not returned to the earth. Events had escalated, whether those present were aware or not. It was no longer merely the deadening of the land. It was costing his fey their lives.
The elven lord had forced his hand and outed their secret. Veil drew a breath through his nose, ready to make a pronouncement about the ill-timed presentation.
Then a call echoed through the forest. It immediately and irrevocably piqued the interest and perked the ears of the sea of fey. Veil let a wicked smile crawl across his lips at the realization of that call, a warning, report from his warriors that a spellcaster had been found.
He stood to face the crowd, saved by the reprieve. “The fates have brought us an offering of their own this summer night, a rare treat that has not been matched in many seasons.” Each turned to him with eager expressions, attention rapt. It was what they lived for. It was what they craved.
Veil’s chest swelled, and he raised his arms, his words me
t with a raucous cheer and unfettered screams when he announced, “A hunt!”
15
Frey
After a signal toward the castle and the following succession of calls that warned the sentries of what I was about to do, I fell back into the mind of the dragon, holding it steady. A thrill ran through me again at the ease of the action, and I nodded once toward Steed.
Willa spun, her short sword drawn to cut free the spelled bindings that held down the creature’s wings. Each of the guard had exchanged their long weapons and loose clothes for short, slim gear. The dragon’s claws were as long as a man’s legs, its entire body covered with spikes. It was not a beast one would want to get tangled up with.
Steed took his dagger to the twine at the dragon’s shoulder, warily eying the beast’s massive head. He gave me a long look once he was done, and I returned it with a smile. “All of them,” I told him, not wanting the beast tied, even the mouth that could breathe fire and the tail with its deadly barbs.
Willa swung along the creature’s body, climbing onto a scaly knee to reach the bindings over its wing. On the other side, Barris and Merek worked in tandem, and I had to hold the beast still to keep its reflex from stretching its leathery wings. With a thought, I lowered the beast’s snout, allowing Steed easy reach. He carefully cut along the armored flesh, Steed’s entire body as tall as one of the creature’s horns.
When they were finally done, my guard stepped away, and I took one long, steady breath before I urged the beast to spread its wings. The creature stood to its full height, drawing in a breath of its own before its wings came swiftly out and down, brushing the earth and buffeting us with wind. And then the beast, finally looking like the dragon it was, spread its wings wide as they lifted to gain air. There was a heartbeat, and then another downward strike. Junnie gasped beside me, and the dragon rose from the earth before diving right over our heads.
The Frey Saga Book VI Page 6
