The Frey Saga Book V

by Melissa Wright

  Thea took a steadying breath and brushed her trembling hands over her clothes. She’d not been disheveled, though she certainly felt like it. She cleared her throat as Steed stood and slid his knife back into his belt. He glanced down at her as she tried to pull herself together. She managed a shrug. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he only turned, walked toward the door, and handed her her cloak as he ducked to leave.

  She followed him out, draping the cloak over her arm as they stepped into the dark of night to meet Junnie and her guard.

  20

  Frey

  I stood at the ancient border between lands, laid in place long ago by our forebears and restored again by elves so powerful they’d gone not into death but into the minds of cunning beasts. Beside me stood my Second, and beyond him were four others of my Seven and a fair number of our guard.

  None of it seemed to matter a whit to the high fey lord who waited on the other side of that boundary.

  Veil relaxed into a high-backed chair, the seat not grown out of the earth but apparently brought in for just this occasion. He glanced over the tips of his fingers, examining them with far more care than he’d given any of us.

  I pressed my eyes closed and took a steadying breath. Through clenched teeth, I hissed, “Veil,” but the sudden flick of his gaze to mine—and what I saw in it—cut my threat short.

  His mouth tipped up into a sly and scheming smile, and he purred, “We are no longer under treaty, my Freya.”

  My stomach turned at the honey in his voice, the reminder of my words to him at court. I said, “You have broken this treaty. We intend to remain at peace—”

  He tsked at me. Actually tsked, as if I were not the ruler of a kingdom as large as his own, as if I did not hold him trapped within that land, and as if he didn’t need me to keep his people alive.

  “Safe passage is my right,” I said. “And as I alone control the encroachment that threatens your life and your land, I expect it done with haste.”

  “Demands, demands, demands,” he mused. “And yet nothing in return.” He dropped the hand he’d been examining to give me a level stare. “You and your Isa have done nothing toward repairing our lands and driving the scourge backward. Even now, she builds her encampment with gardens and stock, with housing made for permanence just outside our lands.” He stood, leaning toward me. “On land that used to be ours. Land that once ran fertile with the base magic at the turn of the moon.” Anger simmered beneath his words in a way I’d not seen in years. “And what of you, Lord Freya, in your castle on the hill?”

  My mouth went dry. “We are working on the solution every moment of every day.”

  “There is one solution,” he told me. “One to take it all away.”

  “Perhaps this is not the best time to discuss the situation,” I seethed, “given that an urgent matter awaits on the other side of your lands.”

  “Let it wait,” Veil spat.

  “The changeling is a danger to both lands,” Chevelle said. His voice was even and cold, and even if by Veil’s estimation, my Second had spoken out of turn in a matter between lords, he could not fault the truth of it.

  Veil glanced at me sidelong, his expression managing to convey more than a few choice words of his own about Chevelle.

  I crossed my arms. “Let us pass under invitation, or you shall come to regret it.”

  He turned to face me fully, stepping closer to the steady stream of water that trickled over stone. “Threats, then.”

  “I’ll not bargain our way in.” Not again.

  Veil’s wing flicked, no doubt in annoyance as he remembered our bargain, which had nearly cost him his life. “As if I would trust you to hold your word.”

  I tightened my hand around the grip of my sword. “Insult me again and see how far it gets you.”

  Veil’s gaze flashed with something that might have been delight and might have been anger—it was impossible to tell when the fey reveled in both—and then slowly trailed toward Chevelle. Up, then down, up again as it came to rest about the height of my shoulder. I did not look because I knew what he saw. The staff that had been crafted for me. The one my Seven had insisted I not reveal was my own until and unless it was needed.

  I didn’t need it yet. I had Chevelle. With him and outside of fey lands, I had enough power to fight the high fey lord. Before, I had not been so lucky. Deprived of an anchor and exposed to Veil at his full power, I had been unable to risk setting my own magic free. But now, even though the base magic was flush with blood spilled during the fates’ dance, it would be a fair fight.

  And if he managed to separate me from Chevelle, I would pray the staff and its stone were strong enough to aid me. “Do you expect me stand here and watch you preen when we are needed beyond the border? To leave this threat to be resolved by only two of my Seven?”

  Veil let me see the warm smile in his amber eyes. “Two of them?”

  His tone questioned my certainty, and my chest bore a sudden icy stab of fear. Steed had to be with her. Anvil had met one of the guards in Camber before Barris found us on our path to the border. They had said Steed and Junnie had made their way to the fey lands. Both had assured us Ruby would not face the challenge alone.

  If he had harmed any of them…

  Veil chuckled at my expression, the threat plain on my face, and then brushed aside the matter with a flip of his hand. “It is of no consequence whether—”

  “You are a vile plague,” I hissed. “You never intended to let us cross because you’ve already made your bargain.”

  The fey lord’s bronzed skin flushed with pleasure. He’d only been keeping us occupied while their plans played out, the same low tactic they’d used to keep us from realizing she had been gone. Fury rolled through me, agitating the power I barely had a hold on under normal circumstances.

  Caught in his game or simply tired of waiting, Veil rose from the ground. “Until we meet again, my Freya.”

  Fire—mine—shot through the space between us, and his cackle echoed over my skin as he dodged the strike with his wings spread widely. He might have had cause to call out my attack, but he’d provoked me with his slithering, too-familiar tone, and he wanted to play. He threw me a wink before he turned, his golden figure disappearing into the tall trees.

  I turned to Chevelle, who had the good sense to stare straight ahead and not back at me, and fumed. He and Ruby had made their bargains before I’d been restored to the throne. They’d done what they had to in order to get us all to where we were. But it was over.

  “One more of you bargain with the fey, and I will personally see to your punishment,” I said in a low tone, letting my gaze hit Chevelle, Anvil, Grey, Rhys, and Rider, every of my Seven in attendance.

  21

  Thea

  Junnie looked agitated, and it wasn’t merely because they’d not found Ruby, Thea thought, but because of something more. Steed watched her quietly, waiting for the words that would give him direction. Thea thought that the “something more” would not be spoken there, not with the eyes of so many upon them. Junnie flicked a finger at her side, and Thea saw the smear of what appeared to be soil or decomposing plants.

  “The wolves are on alert. We need to go now,” Junnie said.

  Steed nodded. He’d been ready for nothing else.

  “There are too many of them.” Junnie had changed into slim pants and tall boots, her lean figure dressed to run and to fight. “I’m having trouble pinning down which area to strike first.”

  “We can split up,” Steed started, but Junnie waved him off.

  “This isn’t merely her,” she explained. “Something else has them rattled. We go as one.” She snapped a gesture to her guard, and all came to attention, prepared for action and on alert. Junnie’s gaze flickered, then, a sort of shuttering of her pupils, and Thea’s stomach dipped at the realization that she’d been in the minds of those beasts.

  She wondered how far Junnie could control them and how many at once.

 
Her palms sweated, and Thea ran them over the fabric at her hips, wanting to be ready if she needed to use her blade. It was nearing dawn, and soon, the humans would be rising from their slumber to fill the encampment with a different sort of activity, securing food and keeping shelter. Thea did not wish to be there when the settlement came to life. She did not wish for their wide, round eyes to be upon her.

  That did not mean that she preferred to be so near the fey forests at night.

  “Go.” Junnie’s directive to the waiting guard was clipped, her grave expression making her face seem sharp beneath her tight blond braids. Three of the women, the scouts who had been designated to search for danger, shot toward the trees. Junnie turned with the others to follow, with Steed at her back and Thea behind them.

  As they entered the forest, a pack of wolves came with them, drawing nearer Junnie and her men from where they had been scattered and waiting. Junnie was powerful, her line one of the strongest among the order of light elves, and her magic was deadly. By all accounts, she was an outstanding archer, and she had a power over beasts, not to mention the entire Council and its subjects supporting her. Her actions were not simple precaution.

  As capable as Junnie was, the tension apparent in her body spoke of the danger the changelings presented. Pitt was beyond powerful, and no one knew how many other fey might have been in play. She and her guard were prepared, because the risk was great.

  They ran through the trees, heedless of the crunch of limbs beneath their feet. The wolves muffled what sound they made, and if what Junnie had suspected was true, there would be no need for stealth. The changeling—or whatever the disturbance was—had clearly not managed to stay hidden. Thea dodged a thorn bush then ducked under a low-hanging vine, her boots finding ease in the path Junnie laid out for them. The forest was not as thick there, off of fey lands, and beneath the canopy, she caught glimpses of the lightening sky. She would feel better when the forest was lit around her, but even then, an unnatural warmth permeated her leather gear.

  Junnie drew up short ahead of them, and the wolves came to a staggered stop with the rest of the guard. There was a whine from the animals as Junnie waited—whether listening or seeing through a creature’s eyes, Thea couldn’t know. The wolves danced their paws on the earth, impatient to go again. A breathless moment passed, and then Junnie was off, running full speed through the trees with the rest of the group at her back.

  They broke into a clearing, where the rising sun spiked orange across the horizon. Junnie sped onto the field, coming to a stop with the draw of her bow. Behind her, Steed reached out as if to stop her but clearly unsure. Thea watched in horror as Junnie took aim not at the changeling fey in the center of a circle of charred earth and ash but at the figure in the sky—at the high fey lord.

  “Stop!” Junnie commanded just as Veil took his own aim at the changeling below.

  The fey lord’s venomous gaze snapped to Junnie, and though the glare was not focused on Thea, she could feel the heat of it. It was not the heat of fire—it was not what had charred the earth. It was the heat of a summer sun, a warmth she could feel to her bones.

  When Veil realized the head of the Council of light elves had a weapon aimed at his chest, his expression shifted from anger to boiling rage. He seemed to consider leaving his intended target to come at Junnie, but there was something holding him there.

  Thea’s gaze tracked the scene and found a small, crumpled mass—Ruby.

  Thea felt a sudden stab of fear, a sickness in the pit of her gut. She breathed, clasping and unclasping a fist while she decided if she could make it to Ruby’s prone form and whether she could get past the battle or around it through the trees. Her other hand was slick with sweat, wrapped too tightly around the handle of her blade.

  In front of Thea, Steed waited, watching Junnie with a wary eye.

  “I demand you cease this now.” Junnie’s voice was no less than an order. It was not a threat that she might have shot at Veil. It was a warning that she had every intention of bringing him down.

  “You dare,” Veil hissed, shaking his head as his words fell off.

  She more than dared. She’d warned him twice. Veil gestured toward the changeling standing beneath him, the being’s gray skin a sickly hue. “This creature is mine. By law and by bargain.”

  By bargain. Thea looked again to the changeling, a fey so changed from when she’d seen him before. At the fates’ dance ceremony on fey lands, he’d been vibrant and stunning, alluring, even as they’d known he was a horrid, horrid thing. He stood barefoot before them, apparently unconcerned, if one were to judge by his face. But the changelings could never be judged by appearance, because they could shift and deceive, hiding even pain. His color was off, though, his spiky white hair more like a strip of fur than it had seemed before. He did not look beautiful. She did not feel drawn to him in the way that made her skin crawl.

  Pitt gripped a staff of ironwood, and though she thought it had once held a stone of blue, the gem atop it now glinted deep red. His robes were long, his fingers bare. Whatever other stones he possessed must have been nearer his person. Beyond him, in the low grass, something dark and small shifted closer. Thea’s lips parted, and then she realized what she was seeing and purposely diverted her gaze. Steed stood in front of Thea, and she could see the strain in his posture, his need to act and inability to do so because of his duties as one of the Seven and the rulers between him and Ruby’s prone form.

  Thea glanced beside her, but everyone’s eyes were on either the changeling or the fey lord. She dropped her cloak, laid down her sword, and willed herself to appear as small and nonthreatening as possible.

  When she moved, she felt shifting behind her, but she did not look back. She was fast, and Steed had no time to prevent her from what she was about to do, not when he had his own task to deal with. He might have told another guard, but Thea had a fair mind of how Junnie operated, and she was confident that the head of Council would do nothing to stop her. She darted into the trees, feeling immediately that she’d crossed over that border and onto fey lands, not by the energy beneath the earth but by the lush and riotous growth. She felt a prickle of unease and knew, too, that she was being watched, that fey waited behind those leaves. She ran faster through the tangled forest, heedless of snapping branches or any sort of stealth. She heard shouted commands in the field, bits of the argument between lords.

  She nearly screamed when she was lifted from the ground and again at the rush of being tossed, but the wind was knocked out of her when she thudded hard against the earth. She rolled out of the trees and into tall grass, gasping for air and wincing at the pain in her hip and shoulder. Had she not had the sense to draw in her limbs, she might have had bigger problems, but her hand found the dagger at her belt, and she grabbed it as she rolled into a crouch.

  In the trees, a dark shadow shifted to and fro. She took in the tree line, the clearing, her new position. The fey had not been attacking her.

  The fey had moved her nearer Ruby and the girl.

  Thea dropped again to her stomach, mirroring the posture of the small raven-haired girl who’d been crawling through the grass toward Ruby. The girl had grown closer, having just reached the edge of that ring of cinder and ash, and she grabbed hold of Ruby’s boot, dragging her body into the weeds. Thea scrambled toward them, helping to move Ruby to safer ground. Beyond them, threats and shouts still occupied the lords. There was a sudden, spine-chilling roar of a large cat, which sent Thea’s hair to stand on end.

  She glanced over her shoulder, and into the clearing leapt a dozen massive cats, black and golden with dotted fur. They sauntered closer to the changeling, circling him with a threat of their own.

  The changeling smiled. “You cannot kill me,” he said with an almost seductive purr. It was so out of place there, in the middle of her terror, and Thea realized the words had been spelled to life. They were low enough that she should not have heard, but she had a feeling that everyone within reach had.
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  There was a response to his words, and Thea felt her skin go cold, or maybe the entire clearing had lost a bit of its heat. She straightened slightly to find the source of it and saw the black leather and dark cloaks of her own uniform. A breath rushed out of her as she turned back to help the small girl heave Ruby away from what promised to be an unpleasant conflict.

  The girl rolled Ruby onto her back, drawing her matted hair away from her face before unfastening the material at Ruby’s neck. Ruby was bloodied but not badly. Thea wondered whether she’d been hit that hard or had merely used too much of her energy to fight the fey. She glanced up at the girl where they both leaned over Ruby and saw that the girl was streaked with blood and ash. “What happened?” Thea whispered.

  “Potion.” The girl didn’t meet Thea’s gaze, only kept working.

  Thea could live with that. She leaned in, trying to scent what might have been used, and found the foul odor of spellcasting instead. She ran a hand over Ruby’s cheek but could not feel any spells that had been placed on her. She closed her eyes, breathed in, and found a faint trace of yew and baneberry. It was strange that a changeling as powerful as this one would use a simple toxin to hit Ruby, but then Thea remembered the fates’ dance.

  She remembered he wanted Ruby alive.

  Thea reached into the pouch at her waist, pulling free her meager supplies. She was missing several crucial ingredients, and she was fairly certain they were running out of time. She needed plants from within the fey forests, and she didn’t have the time or ability to get them. The girl’s fingers stilled where they were loosening Ruby’s sword belt, and Thea listened for whatever had her spooked. She heard nothing, but when she raised her gaze, a cloud of high fey hovered around them.

  The chill she expected over her skin did not come. It was warmth. It was Veil.

  A bargain, he’d said. Thea stared at the ochre-skinned fey around her, their flesh painted with battle tattoos, waiting.