The Frey Saga Book V

by Melissa Wright

  “Thea,” Steed said to her back. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the flash of his dark eyes. “Sword practice. Tonight.”

  She started to respond to say, “Yes, of course,” but he was gone, disappeared into the dark of the forest. She stared after him, listening for some sign of him or the other man. All she heard were the night creatures, scratching and flapping and chirping as if no danger was in sight.

  Thea returned to find that her guard had built a fire outside of their quarters and were gathering around it, engaged in various trivial tasks. Apparently, she’d not been the only one discontented or ill at ease. Barris looked up at her from across the firelight, giving her a smile and a tilt of his head. Where have you been? the look said.

  She would be damned if she would tell him. She wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. “Barris,” she said in greeting, skipping any chance he might have of pressing her for information. “Care to teach me a little about swords?”

  His eyes laughed at her, but the rest of him managed to hold it in. “I believe we can handle that,” he answered. “Any particular area you’re interested in?”

  She straightened as he stood to face her, his own sword ready at his hip. “All of it.”

  “Aye,” he told her. “I suppose it is about time, now that they’ve got you running with this lot.”

  Thea suspected Barris didn’t mean himself and the other guards. He meant the Seven, running errands for Ruby, and riding at the head of the group with Steed. She would be a target, or she would be a casualty by proximity. Or worse: a liability.

  They worked long into the night, crossing swords and perfecting her grip. She was terrible, and she knew it, but Barris assured her that with a proper sword—one built for her tall, lean frame—she’d be able to wield one well enough. Thea understood that “well enough” was not what would keep her alive. “Well enough” would only delay the inevitable, and if no other sentries were near if she was attacked, she would be finished. Her family had been right—she was a healer, not a fighter. But being wrong had never stopped her before.

  “Again,” she told Barris, returning to her starting stance.

  He frowned at her attempt. “Maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong. Maybe you should try to use some other skill.”

  She gave him a look. “It’s stunning that you’ve known me this long and haven’t figured out that I don’t exactly have any awe-inspiring magical talents.”

  Thea could see Barris’s contemplative expression and recalled her various attempts at fire, water, even at weapons training. Throwing knives had been particularly embarrassing.

  He finally sighed, sinking into his own ready posture as he drew up his sword. “All right,” he told her, “ready when you are.”

  They continued practicing stances, dodges, and striking techniques until her arms screamed for a break. She stretched her shoulders as Barris grabbed a canteen from near the fire. He tossed it to her then picked up a piece of leather, which Thea was fairly certain had been grown from a sapling into the shape of the seat near one of the benches.

  “How’s the collection going?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Still have three to go. We finished sorting the items Ruby had requested in her letter to the Council head, and I thought they’d be able to help with the list items as well, but Aster informed me I was wrong.”

  Barris smiled up at her in the dim light, clearly understanding that the girl had not done it kindly.

  “Thornsblood, windroot, and king lily, and my mission is done.”

  Barris’s brow drew down. “Never heard of those.”

  She shrugged, walking closer to inspect what he’d been fiddling with.

  “Sword belt,” he explained. He tied the last ribbon of leather then indicated to her waist. She raised her arms, and Barris leaned forward to wrap the belt at the proper height. He cinched the sheath with the belt, showing her how it should ride.

  When he straightened, Thea glanced up to find Steed standing across the yard. Barris handed Thea her sword and followed her distracted gaze. It was dark night, likely nearing sunrise. She slid the sword into its sheath, her gaze returning to Barris to thank him for the work.

  He patted her on the shoulder hard enough to knock her off balance, given the unusual weight at her hip. She chuckled. When Barris turned to go, Thea’s gaze went back to the spot where she’d seen Steed, but he was gone. She stretched her shoulders again, wondered how the others possibly sat and slept with a bulky length of metal at their sides, and then realized with chagrin that she would be ahorse soon, and that would come with a whole new set of sword skills to master.

  She turned back toward the barracks, ready to finally give in to rest. Thea froze at the sight of a dark figure at the edge of the trees. Her hand went for her short blade, then Steed’s reminder raised its level head. Call for backup. Warn the guard.

  Thea’s mouth opened to shout, but the figure shifted, changing into something taller and narrower—something more fey.

  The figure moved closer. “Oh,” it said unpleasantly, “it’s you.”

  Thea drew her blade. “Liana.”

  The changeling was dressed in green silks, her skin pale and pink, though Thea was certain it had been as dark as the night beneath the shadow of the trees a moment before.

  Thea rolled her thumb over the handle of her dagger. “What do you want here?”

  “Who,” the changeling corrected.

  Thea bit down her automatic reply, knowing her mouth would only get her into more trouble.

  “Who?” someone asked behind her.

  Thea didn’t turn. She knew it was Steed at her back.

  Liana’s smile was only for him. “Summit,” she purred, as if they were more acquainted than the two actually were. Thea had a flash of memory of Liana’s hands trailing over Steed’s bare chest. Her fingers tightened on her weapon.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Liana.

  Liana spread her hands wide. “Trading favors, of course.”

  Thea felt Steed shift and his weapon going into its sheath as he moved to stand beside her. Liana came forward as well, swatting at a flittering pixie over her shoulder. The pixie was knocked sideways, shook itself, then flew away in a cloud of luminescent dust. “You know they won’t abide you here,” Steed said.

  Liana ignored the warning, but she surely understood that. She’d come in the dead of the night, cloaked in shadow. The changeling leveled her gaze on Steed. “Trouble again, I’m afraid.”

  Thea felt Steed’s posture go still beside her and the chill of fear thrill over her skin. “Tell me,” Steed said.

  “Ruby’s gone onto fey lands in search of Pitt.”

  Liana was a changeling, a being who liked to toy with others and who enjoyed the chase and the game. For her to simply come out with such information meant they didn’t have much time.

  Thea looked at Steed beside her and watched his neck twitch in a swallow.

  “I cannot go with you,” Liana said, “but do make haste.” Before Steed could turn away, Liana reached into her clothing and drew free a tightly bound scroll. “One more thing…”

  Thea stared in disbelief as the changeling unrolled the very scroll she’d been given by Ruby, the list of supplies she was meant to gather on their journey. Liana held the document up and tapped the last item on the list.

  “Thornsblood,” Steed read.

  Liana rolled the scroll tight once more, secured it with a ribbon of silk. “In your sister’s own hand.”

  “I don’t understand,” Steed told her. “What does it mean?”

  “Thornsblood is only available in one place,” a voice from the darkness said. All eyes turned to Junnie as she emerged from the shadows with several Council warriors at her back.

  Thea’s voice was caught in her throat, but Steed managed a cold, “Where?”

  Junnie’s gaze narrowed on the changeling. “Beyond the last fey forest, where Isa waits.”

  11
/>
  Frey

  By the time we’d finally resolved the issues with the rogues and made reparations, it was late in the day. Chevelle suggested we sup in his study, and after we’d finished eating, my boots propped up on a stool and my sigh heavy, he explained there was one more order of business. I sat up, leaning toward him as he retrieved a cloth bag from behind his desk and took the seat across from me. He slid the soft velvet back, revealing an ironwood staff.

  My eyes left the intricately carved wood to meet his gaze. “I’ve been discussing with Rhys the ways in which his and his brother’s powers are focused,” Chevelle said, “and the way in which the fey first attempted to steal his own staff before they managed to break it.”

  I narrowed my gaze on Chevelle because I’d only just spoken to Rhys about his staff—Rhys had apparently neglected to mention he’d already discussed it with my Second at length.

  “I’d like you to try this,” Chevelle continued, “to see if it might help with your focus, to start.”

  At least he’d not explained that it was to protect innocent bystanders or so I didn’t inadvertently blow anything up like before. It was a good idea, I supposed, and it might even work. Then I realized what he’d said. “To start?”

  He drew the cloth fully away and lifted the staff toward me. “This one has been crafted as more than simply a way to focus your strikes and narrow your target. Inlaid into the crown is a stone from the ice lands.” He shifted the end toward me, careful not to aim it in my direction. “It is a long shot, but I’ll admit I have some hope it might work.”

  I examined the clear stone’s uncut but polished surface. “Work for what?” I asked. The fey carried stones, not us. We didn’t need to store power because we couldn’t access it from a stone.

  “We cannot draw from it,” Chevelle said, answering my thought, “but it’s possible you could still use it, were you to need a place to tie your power while fighting the fey.”

  Were he not there as my anchor, he meant. If I was alone. “You think I can tie to this stone?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “It is worth an attempt. Rhys does well with a staff, but Rider prefers none.”

  I reached out to run a fingertip over the carved ironwood, certain that it was not merely some simple attempt. Someone had spent many, many hours working on the weapon, and Chevelle clearly had far more than a mild hope that it would work. The wood was ancient—anyone could have seen that—but beneath my hand, I felt a strange sort of tingle, the way one might feel the warning of a spell.

  I snatched my fingers back. “Tell me this isn’t some sort of spellwork.”

  “No,” he answered. “I knew you wouldn’t touch it if the magic was tied to the earth.”

  My mouth turned down. “Darkness,” I corrected. “Spellwork is tied to darkness.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not the point. The staff is free of all castings. It’s only a pure wood and a pure stone.”

  I reached out to touch it again, remembering the staff Asher had carried. He’d never let me—or anyone—touch it, though I wasn’t sure why. I had always assumed he’d protected it against others, so that no one might steal something so valuable to him. I wondered if that was how he’d wielded so much power, all on his own. Or maybe it was only that he was much stronger than I was. My fingers brushed Chevelle’s on the wood, and I pushed away the dark thoughts. “May I?”

  He held the staff out for me, and I took it into my hands. It felt strange, cold, and something else that I could not quite understand. My questioning gaze met his again.

  “There is a sort of energy of its own but only in that it needed to be powerful enough to hold your gift.”

  “And if I use it, if I tie my magic there?”

  “There is no way to test it to be certain, but Rhys suggested it would be able to come back to you in the same way it flows between us.” He straightened to stand, pressing his chair out of the way. “I don’t recommend you try it here, but see how it feels and if it’s a good fit.”

  I stepped into the space he’d made, holding the staff upright then shifting it as a weapon. It was light, its movements smooth, but there was a tangible weight to its energy, which seemed to meld with my own. I spun it around me once more then carefully returned it upright, base against the floor. “It’s perfect,” I told him.

  He gave me a satisfied smile. There was something more to it, though, because it had suddenly become possible that I might be able to again stand on equal footing with the fey and avoid the gamble that one of a greater power—Veil, for instance—might be able to secure my magic as his own.

  It was only for a time when Chevelle was not there as my anchor, I reminded myself. My own expression fell, and I felt my grip on the staff tighten. There was another danger I needed to plan for, one more possibility that needed to be laid out. Seasons before, I had named Chevelle my Second, but the truth was that if I fell, he was likely to go with me or follow shortly thereafter. It was what happened when elves were bound to one another—and the more powerful the elves, the stronger the bond.

  My own ancestor had been overcome by it because she had been tied to Lord Asher.

  The kingdom had only just regained its stability. I would need to name a true heir, someone to follow if Chevelle and I were both destroyed. The light caught on the stone atop my new staff, and I could not help but be reminded of the gift I’d received from Veil, twisted strands of silver and ice that were a warning of Asher’s half-fey children, the ice of the fey not so different in appearance than the clear stone atop the staff. The gift from Veil had held two more strands as well, blood and bone. One represented me and one the half-human child, Isa.

  Chevelle stepped closer, and I forced back the rumination. There would be time for that later. He’d just given me a gift of his own, which he clearly hoped would secure the very thing that held our kingdom together, its lord. “So,” he said, “want to try it out?”

  12

  Thea

  “Barris,” Steed said to the waiting soldiers at Thea’s back. She’d not even heard them approach, not with the roar of panic and dread in her ears. “Take the others the fastest route back to the castle. Warn Frey.”

  Barris gave a look in reply that Thea was fairly certain he shouldn’t have given a superior, and Steed explained, “Duer will ride with me. I’ll not be alone.”

  Thea’s gaze flicked to Junnie and her warriors, and the Council head gave one curt nod. She would go, though Thea wasn’t certain whether that was for Steed and the North or for the girl, Isa. Thea turned back when Barris grabbed her by the elbow. “Make haste,” he ordered.

  She glanced at Steed, who was tightening his weapons belt and calling for his horses. “No,” she said. “Steed.” His gaze flicked to hers only momentarily, but she willed him to stay focused on her. “She meant for me to go,” Thea said. “Ruby gave me that list. Your sister said it was for me to do.” When his mouth flattened into a thin line, she added, “She said, ‘Steed cannot do this for me.’ Do you remember?” Thea crossed her arms. “You were there. I am of the guard now. I do what they say.” She tightened her own sword belt then, daring him to deny the order from another of the Seven.

  Steed gave her a look but nodded Barris away. Thea felt the small squeeze Barris gave her elbow before he departed, and she managed to glance at him with no more than a bit of chagrin. He turned and ran, and each of the sentries was on horseback before she’d even settled her sword. Steed whistled, and their mounts, only just brought out by Junnie’s men, moved toward them. Duer yanked Thea’s bedroll free of her saddle then tossed the supplies she’d gathered for Ruby to the last of the sentries who were riding toward home. He was getting rid of dead weight, Thea realized.

  She’d done it again. She’d leapt into a pit full of trouble without a single rope out. She closed her eyes tightly for one long moment then gripped her reins and jumped onto her horse.

  They were off, riding into the trees before the rising of the sun. Shadows shif
ted behind those trees as they ran, and Thea knew it was wolves. Junnie was more than merely the head of a powerful Council of light elves. She was of the same blood as the Lord of the North and could draw beasts into action with no more than a thought.

  The wolves were unnerving, but they made her feel more secure because where they were heading waited beings deadlier than a pack of wild animals. More feral, even. The fey lands had been brutal and terrifying. The fey were something else entirely.

  She tightened her grip on the reins and leaned into the ride. It was too late to go back, too late but to face whatever fate would come.

  13

  Ruby

  A swarm of pixies dropped Ruby unceremoniously at the edge of the creek that bordered fey lands. She’d only just managed to jump to her feet when Willa was tossed from behind her, knocking them both over the edge and into the running water. A chill was in the predawn air. Ruby stood, gritting her teeth, and turned to glare at the cloud of dust and wings. The pixies tittered, jostling into one another as they parted from their swarm to disappear.

  Willa stared up at them and blinked. Ruby grimaced, reaching down to pull the girl to her feet. “If you’ve not seen a pixie, you’ll certainly not be interested in what waits at the other side.”

  The girl straightened and drew her sword.

  It wouldn’t matter, Ruby guessed. Likely, Willa would not be given a choice, given that she knew where Ruby was and what fey games were afoot. The sky was lightening. Ruby gave the girl one final look that asked, Are you sure?

  The girl nodded, determined.

  Ruby said, “Put your blade away. It’ll do you no good.”

  When she did as instructed, Ruby gestured the girl to follow to the opposite edge of the creek. Ruby scanned the tree line and counted eight and ten high fey and at least a dozen sprites. There was a spike of orange across the horizon as the sun rose, and then the outline of a golden god appeared, his wings and arms spread wide.