Shadow and Stone
Melissa Wright
Copyright © 2019 by Melissa Wright
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover art by Gene Mollica Studio
Contents
1. Thea
2. Ruby
3. Frey
4. Thea
5. Frey
6. Thea
7. Frey
8. Thea
9. Ruby
10. Thea
11. Frey
12. Thea
13. Ruby
14. Ruby
15. Frey
16. Ruby
17. Thea
18. Ruby
19. Thea
20. Frey
21. Thea
22. Frey
23. Frey
24. Thea
25. Frey
26. Thea
27. Ruby
28. Frey
29. Frey
30. Frey
31. Thea
The Story Continues…
Also by Melissa Wright
About the Author
1
Thea
Thea had been a sentry for exactly one day when she was thrown into the biggest conflict the North had seen in centuries. The dark elves had nearly gone to war with the fey, and Junnie, the new Council head, rode side by side with Thea and her childhood friend Steed, who had become one of Seven to the Lord of the North, as light and dark elves joined forces to overcome traps laid by the fey. Thea had stood upon the stones of the high fey court with her blade in hand and her life on the line. She’d been terrified but had felt no less than a warrior. Thea had found her calling.
She’d not seen a lick of action since.
She dropped the bucket of muck she’d been carrying with a muttered curse, glaring up the pathway to her superior’s leather-clad back. He wasn’t even the head of the guard. He was a subordinate to a subordinate of the head of the guard, and he’d been riding her like a stolen mare.
Thea ran the back of her hand across her forehead, unsurprised when it came away wet, not with sweat so much but with plenty of the black gunk they’d had her scraping off the base of the stable block. She didn’t even rate high enough to tend the animals.
It wasn’t as if she’d had lofty expectations. Before she’d left home, she’d heard all the criticisms: “You’re too skinny. You’re too young. You can’t even wield a proper sword.” They weren’t all wrong. It was true she was thin, but she could hold her own. She wasn’t much, but what there was of her was strong. And she was young, at least compared to those who’d warned her, but she was nearly as old as Steed, Grey, and the rest of the guard.
The sword wielding, though, she couldn’t really defend. She glanced at her dirt-smeared hands, which were long and lean but scarred by the mistakes she’d made for the whole of her life.
Thea had worked with the animals in Camber, an occupation she’d loved. She’d been a healer, too, first for the animals, then the townspeople, and eventually for the occasional rogue. Word had gotten out, and she’d garnered a host of rogues, fighters, and ruffians as patients.
Her father had not approved. Thea had a bad habit of sticking herself in situations that didn’t come out clean. It wasn’t that she was clumsy, but she tended to go in headfirst—and in most unpleasant circumstances, feetfirst was the only good way. Her father used to tell her that it didn’t hurt to turn tail and run once in a while.
She hadn’t run, though. No matter how terrified Thea might be, she was always more afraid of running and of being called a coward than she was of fighting.
It was foolish, really, and immature, but there was no question that it had gotten her to where she was. And she had stood among legends, fighting beside the high guard to the Lord of the North. Well, she hadn’t done much fighting, but she’d stood with them.
She swiped her hands on the sides of her pants. “Done,” she called up the pathway toward her superior’s back.
He didn’t acknowledge her. He was fool-headed and arrogant above his station, but Thea didn’t tell him so. Instead, she trudged up the dark stone pathway to address him as he expected to be addressed. “Done,” she said, “sir.”
He glanced at her sidelong then back at the haze of a hidden horizon.
She waited. “Shall I—”
His glare cut her short.
She bit back her next retort.
“The blocks aren’t clean,” he said. “Start again.”
Thea’s mouth tightened for one long moment before she opened it again without regard for her better judgment. She was jerked to the side by a sudden pull on her arm, her curse heading for the source of the tug instead of her superior, but she drew up short. A stout black-haired boy in full leathers stared down at her.
“Thea,” he said. “I’ve just finished my shift. Let me give you a hand.”
He nodded at the guard, drawing Thea away from the man and back down the path. Thea had seen the boy before and had known him in Camber. Well, known was maybe a strong word. But she’d heard about him. Those dark eyes held a story as unhappy as any she’d ever been told. His name was Barris, and he was from a well-loved family—Thea’s father and the entire town had thought highly of his parents.
They were gone now. His father, Burne, and his mother, Camren, had been killed in a single season when the new lord had fought for her throne. Thea wondered what made people give their lives for a person. For a cause, she could understand—for the North. But to lose so many for a single life…
Dreamer. Her father’s word slammed into her, the way they often did when Thea lost sight of the present. She’d joined the cause, and she was present, even if it did mean sacrificing many to protect one. She would be cursed if they thought they could keep her from her aim.
Thea wrenched her arm free, picked up her steps, and leaned in so her narrowed gaze could target Barris’s. “I don’t need your help, you know.”
Barris smirked. “Clearly. You were getting along well. Seemed like you were about to turn over a new leaf with your superior.”
She rolled her eyes. “With the wall. I don’t need your help with the wall.” She kept her hands from flying, matron-style, to her hips. “You don’t have to do my work for me.”
“Oh, I’m not,” he answered. “I just wanted to stop you from provoking our lead and getting our entire group thrown in a hole.”
Thea stopped, making Barris glance over his shoulder to see her. “They don’t do that,” she said.
Her words were too timid, and she regretted them at once. Of course they didn’t lock recruits in the ground as punishment—they wouldn’t. Besides, the castle tunnels were just a legend. She’d not seen a single one.
Barris laughed. “No, they do not.” He turned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “But they do make you scrape muck off the stalls.”
Her expression soured. “You’re saying this is my fault? That idiotic, arrogant—”
Barris shook his head. “No, I’m sure you got sludge duty entirely without insulting your superior.” He tossed her an empty bucket and looked at the pile of filthy rags, chisels, and short-handled spades. “Why are you doing this by hand?”
“Because it’s virtuous,” she spat. “Hard work is good for the spirit.”
Barris stared at her. It was possible he was regretting stepping in to save her when she was clearly a loon.
She let her shoulders fall, defeated, then gestured with a tip of her head back up the path. “He ma
de me.”
Barris chuckled. “I see.” He brushed his palms together, glancing surreptitiously to and fro. They were mostly alone there, out of sight of the other castle staff. “How about you keep watch, and I give you a hand. By the time he realizes you had help, we’ll be enjoying mess.”
Thea chewed her lip. She was hungry. And her superior was a big-headed idiot. “Whatever keeps you out of trouble,” she said.
* * *
Thea didn’t regret letting Barris help. He’d worked quickly, and they were soon belly-up to the table, partaking in roast pig and crisp apples with the other castle guards. It wasn’t her first time at mess, but she’d rarely made it on schedule, thanks to the extra tasks assigned to her by their lead.
The table was long with several benches, all filled with loud and chattering sentries and recruits, on either side. It might not have been her first time there, but it was the first time she’d not been exhausted and exasperated. It was the first time she’d actually enjoyed it. A few of the off-duty sentries laughed and told tales as dark-red wine sloshed in their mugs. The younger few, all new recruits, watched, laughing along but not joining in the drink, having quickly learned the rules were different for the seasoned men. Occasionally, Edan passed through the proceedings, but the head of the castle guard usually kept his distance during their off hours. It kept him from growing too close, inadvertently becoming a friend instead of the incontestable, or so the others had said. Edan was head of command, and his word was law. Only a high guard, one of Lord Freya’s Seven, could overrule him.
Steed was one of the Seven. Thea plucked an apple stem from its core, annoyed that her thoughts had returned to Steed. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought of him since she’d been stuck scrubbing palace walls. She knew it wasn’t his responsibility to stick up for her or to point out to the other guards that she’d stood with them on fey lands. She didn’t need him to win her a place among the guard. Besides, he might have thought she deserved her fate. Cleaning muck might be part of the process, an initiation.
She dropped two apples into her pocket as her eyes ran down the table to several dozen other guards. They’d not been cleaning stalls.
“Right.” She tossed another apple into the air and caught it in a cupped palm before standing.
“Heading off?” Barris asked. He’d been leaning close to another guard, deep in conversation, but the seriousness seemed to melt from his face when he straightened to talk to her. Maybe she’d been imagining it. Maybe she’d been reflecting some invented torment of her own onto his face at the idea of losing either parent, let alone both.
“Yes,” she told him. “Thanks for earlier.”
Barris rolled his palm upward and gave her a smile that appeared entirely natural, not broken by grief or irrevocably scarred. “All in service to the guard.” His brow shifted the slightest bit, his eyes sharing in his smile. “Stay out of trouble, aye?”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” She winked, tossing and catching the apple once more before she turned to go.
She was no longer hungry, not quite tired, and a day’s ride from the haunts of her old home. Thea walked through the castle courtyards, still unfamiliar with the layout of the grounds. Edan had shown them the important paths, the battlements and balustrades and armories that pertained to their duties as guards. But Thea had yet to memorize the insignificant bits—nooks and crannies where one might be able to sit and hide, the smaller courtyards with leafy trees and garden shelves, and the overhangs that could keep one out of the rain. Thea loved a good hideaway, somewhere to stand outside of the bustle to watch the goings-on.
The castle had a lot of dark corners and more than its fair share of mysterious passages. She’d rarely been indoors for her duties those last weeks but would not have been surprised if the newly appointed castle staff got lost more than they found their way. It didn’t help that Thea had practically lived out-of-doors before. When her parents had forced her inside, it had been into a four-room cabin, where she and her sister shared a single room. Cora had been the opposite of Thea in nearly every possible way. Growing up, Thea climbed trees and learned to shoot with a bow, while Cora sat indoors, sewing and singing and mixing perfumes for her hair.
“Wouldn’t hurt you to wear a little perfume,” she would tease Thea, her nose scrunched at some imagined outdoorsy smell.
Thea could always be counted on to return the favor, though, bringing in a speared fish or dumping a satchel of earth-covered mandrake root onto her sister’s freshly prepared table. “Wouldn’t hurt you to find a little food,” she would say, parroting her sister’s tone.
They’d grown up eventually, to their mother’s great relief, and Cora’s hobbies had paid off. She had developed a talent—her embroidery and needlework were among the best in the land. Certainly, they’d surpassed anything in Camber. Cora had moved out of their small cabin last season, finally attaching herself to a trader their father had thought merely sold her wares. Thea’s father had often been blind to the difference between Cora’s business relations and those relations who were not, despite Cora’s plunging necklines and red-painted lips. She’d been sly with more than just needlework, come to think of it, and had let Thea bear the brunt of her father’s disapproval.
Cora had once had an eye for Steed when they were younger. She’d worked her magic with her soft, scented hair and blossom-pink cheeks. She’d even tied feathers and baubles into the two braided strands that crowned her dark curls. The attempt hadn’t succeeded in the least. Back then, Steed had other things on his mind, such as the responsibilities his father had left behind, the horse trade, and a half-fey sister. Thea was surprised the boy had managed at all. But he’d had Grey. And he’d had that half-fey sister.
Given everything he’d been through, Steed had managed quite well.
Thea tossed her apple skyward as she ambled through an open stone archway. Maybe all the guards had some tragic history. It probably wasn’t as bad as Barris’s or Steed’s, but the massacre had affected most of the families in the North in some way. Thea’s family had been fortunate. Her father had kept them from getting involved.
She took a narrow stone corridor from one courtyard to the next and found herself once again on familiar ground. Low walls surrounded a large square of grass, the enclosure one of two where the horses could roam. Steed’s stock there was limited, she’d heard. It had been discussed in town so many seasons ago, back when he joined the high guard. He couldn’t bring them all in, so a few of the men from Camber had been put in charge of managing the remainder of the herds. The horses kept in the castle courtyards were lovely, the best of the best. She watched them graze, their coats slick and dark over thickly muscled frames.
Foot traffic had been walled off, and the atmosphere was quiet and peaceful and cool. The evening sun was fading, and a lone bird drifted across the darkening sky. Thea leapt onto the fence, hooking the heel of her boot over the stone to pull herself up. She landed in the grass on the other side, and a young gelding raised his head. Thea cooed, showing him the apple she held.
“There’s a good boy,” she told him, watching as he strode her way. “Someone’s taught you about treats.” She smiled when he nudged her with his head. She gave him a bite of apple, brushing her fingers over his neck. It was what she’d imagined when she’d come to serve as a guard. Thea had thought, foolish dreamer that her father had always said she was, that she could work in the stables, spending all day brushing and feeding horses.
It was ridiculous, her parents had said. And of course she’d known there would be battles, and of course, she’d realized she’d have to defend the castle on occasion. “Surely,” she’d told them, “you don’t believe they will stick a sword in my hand and throw me to the wolves.”
Gooseflesh rose on Thea’s arms at the word and the not-so-distant memory of the new light elves’ Council head and her wolves. At first, Junnie had only moved the one of them, bringing it to the forest’s edge to meet Thea and Steed. That had bee
n disconcerting enough. But when they approached the fey lands, Thea had seen the truth of it and the power behind the light elf who had broken the old Council.
Freya had the same power, Thea understood, the ability to walk in the mind of a beast.
And in humans.
She shook off a chill, running a hand over the gelding’s back. She walked forward, crossing the grass court, and pulled a second apple from her pocket. “Here’s a pretty boy,” she murmured, drawing another horse from his crop. The second horse bit into the apple, splitting it at the core with a snap that echoed through the courtyard. The sky had darkened further, but Thea sensed a shadow too dim to see. She glanced up as the bird circled lower and spread its massive wings. It was a hawk. The gelding nudged Thea, searching for the apple’s other half. She laughed, gave it over, and rubbed between his ears.
“The stable yards are off limits,” said a voice behind her.
She jumped, bumping the pair of horses on their heads as she turned. One of the geldings nickered.
“Steed.”
He was too close. She’d not even heard him. Her heart hammered in her chest, and then she remembered he was her superior. She was on forbidden ground.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I—” But she didn’t have an excuse. She’d known where she was and wasn’t allowed to go. Her shoulders fell. “What’s my punishment?”
A gelding bumped her, knocking her arm out of the way to search for the last apple.
The Frey Saga Book V Page 1
