Veil had made a bargain with Ruby.
And there she was, likely to suffer permanent damage at the hands of that toxin if Thea didn’t help her, if she couldn’t get to the supplies she needed.
Plague it all, Thea was about to trust the task to a fey.
22
Frey
I stared at the scene in utter disbelief. Ruby had bargained with a fey lord. They had made a trade. And Veil hovered, poised to end the changeling fey and release Ruby of her concerns in the matter, while Junnie held an arrow aimed for his chest.
Beside me, I felt Chevelle and the others taking in the scene, as well, making their own plans for action and possible response. The changeling had spoken his piece, declaring that none could destroy him without destroying fey lands.
I would not parley directly with that being, would not give him the satisfaction of a true audience. I let my gaze fall to Veil, first, out of respect for his part in Ruby’s bargain only.
His wing flicked irritably. He glared at me. He needed not speak the words. He was bound by his trade with Ruby, and now my kin had him under threat.
I felt my mouth flatten into a thin line. Veil had reason enough to destroy Pitt after the betrayal during the fates’ dance. We had stepped in to aid Veil, but that had gone farther than simply saving his skin. If Veil had failed, so had we. He still owed the changeling his due. My gaze found Junnie, but she did not take her eyes—or her aim—off Veil.
“What is this?” I asked her.
My cats prowled around the changeling, a pack of wolves watching the ordeal anxiously at Junnie’s side. Steed stood just a step behind her, ready to act should I command him to do so.
“We must hold,” Junnie answered. “There is more at work here than a simple bargain. The fate of a people, of our people, rests in that detestable being’s plans.”
“Your people,” Veil roared.
I glared back at him.
The string of Junnie’s bow held taut. I had seen her take a fey from the sky with it. I knew she could do so, even to one as powerful as Veil. Her arrow was tipped with iron and glistening with oil. She didn’t intend to play their games. “Our people,” Junnie echoed. She meant not just the light elves but all of them.
“And what of the fey?” I asked. My voice was quiet, even, but it seemed to echo through the clearing.
“They will be the cause of it all.”
Veil hissed out a breath, and the clearing warmed to sweltering. Chevelle moved, but Veil stilled when he realized what I carried in my hand. The tip of the staff sat at my shoulder, its cool stone radiating energy that met his own. I could not be certain whether he hesitated out of caution or curiosity, but I couldn’t spare it attention. I moved farther into the circle, angling myself between him above the changeling and Junnie, where she stood with her guard. “Have you considered that the fey lord might be more willing to parley without the use of your bow?” I asked.
“I have considered shooting him to save myself the breath,” Junnie offered.
Somewhere behind me, Anvil covered a laugh.
I cleared my throat. “We are at peace with the fey. For the good of my people, I would prefer it stay so.”
She drew a long breath and lowered her bow. No one missed the promise in her eyes for Veil. She would do it again should he give her the chance. I held my breath for one long moment, willing him not to break her trust. If he destroyed the changeling after being warned against it, he would have to answer to her. There would be nothing that would save him from that fate.
Junnie looked at me, and I saw the stress in her expression. “The changeling,” she said. “He and the fey are responsible for the deadening of the base magic.”
Veil was behind me in a flash, the wind of his speed brushing tendrils of my hair against my neck. He bent toward her, his tall, lean form casting a shadow over mine. “And now she dares to accuse us of creating the blight that threatens our own kind.”
There was a sound behind us, and I turned, peering around Veil to find my guard and a few dozen fey warriors surrounding the changeling fey. He must have moved, shifted in some way that caused them alarm.
“Can we contain him until this matter is resolved?” I asked.
Veil ignored me, clearly having a single intention to kill the changeling.
“There is only one way,” Junnie answered. The distaste in her voice said it was something dark, something the light elves would want no part of.
I blew out a breath, having no interest in spellcasting myself. “Then quickly, what should be done?”
Junnie did not trust Veil. She was right not to, and no one could argue that, but it made for poor negotiations. Her bright-and-blue eyes met mine. “The humans have a legend.”
My skin went cold at the word, which had been echoing for a moon and could mean so much more.
“Isa has told me of their concerns, of the way their lands have turned and the cause of their migration these last seasons.”
I felt Veil’s heat subside, the presence of him shrinking at her words. So he’d heard them too. He’d known far more than he’d let on.
“If we’ve any chance to undo the damage, it will be with the changeling’s help.” Junnie let her gaze float to Veil. “And then you may kill him.”
Veil’s eyes narrowed, but he did not offer dispute.
“Then we bind him,” I said. I turned to Chevelle, who’d been in earshot of our conversation. I supposed his estimation of Junnie had gone up, but that did little to ease my concern about using spells. The light elves had called our magic dark, but it was not the same sort of darkness used in castings. The power drawn was something else, something vile and nasty, and it had always made my skin crawl. Asher had used them often, but the spells could be unpredictable and could cause far more damage than anyone intended. To call them forth was a risk, and Chevelle was the only one present whom I trusted and who was also strong enough to cage the changeling fey. It made my stomach turn.
I didn’t need to tell him to go ahead—he could read it on my face. He avoided looking at Veil, who hovered closely behind me, his wings curling just so about my side as Chevelle drew a pouch from his belt.
At the realization that he was about to be spelled, the changeling gripped his staff, ready to lift it then slam it to the ground. Veil shot a blast of power toward Pitt, barely skimming past Chevelle’s arm. The changeling was struck, the staff knocked free of his hand, and I bit the inside of my cheek at the way Chevelle’s shoulders went rigid and straight. I swung my own staff wide, nearly striking Veil with the tip, and he jerked back. I let him see the pledge of violent retaliation should he harm my Second in my gaze, but Veil only let his mouth crawl up into a lazy grin. “Swine,” I muttered, turning my gaze to Steed.
He had been waiting, watching me, and at the jerk of my chin, he went around the guards and beasts surrounding Pitt to assist Thea with Ruby. The changeling hadn’t hurt her badly, we’d been told, but that didn’t mean I would trust the word of a fey. I wanted one of my Seven with her.
We moved closer, and some of Junnie’s guard relieved the others of their charge. Pitt might have looked frail, but he was one of the most powerful fey alive. I wasn’t certain how long he’d gone without crossing the fey borders to restore his energy, but he’d surely taken ample stones when he’d left. He would not be easy to hold, even though Junnie had likely ordered her men to restrain him from all sides as soon as they’d arrived. Even though he’d battled Ruby and Veil and countless other fey, he remained deadly.
“Your new guard?” I asked Veil, gesturing toward a line of ocher-skinned warriors with the top of my head. They’d decorated themselves with battle tattoos, curving lines and symbols that counted their dead. Several were nearly covered in the designs.
His expression went flat.
“Decided if you could not trust your own men you would find the most untrustworthy lot you could?”
He rolled his gaze skyward. “They are not the most untrustworthy
.”
“Hmm.” I supposed he was right. It was, after all, likely the changelings who deserved that title.
We settled into silence as Chevelle cast powder over the ashen ground around Pitt. The changeling’s body was still flat after Veil’s strike, and Junnie’s men held him in place. Pitt was reserving his magic, it seemed, holding back words that would require energy to spell into life.
Grey and Anvil stood and drew their swords, ready to move wherever they were needed, with Rhys and Rider farther back toward the trees. I knew it was torture for Grey not to be able to go to Ruby, but it was not the worst he had suffered. What had happened the last time was fresh in our minds, and we would hold to our duties first, so that we might walk away with everyone intact—not sacrifice the whole for one. It was why I’d let him come.
The changeling’s staff lay on the burnt earth out of his reach, but that didn’t mean he was safe. None of this was safe, none of it certain. Pitt was more than clever, and he was known to have several plans in place, a tangled web of options ready if he needed them.
I watched as Chevelle’s arms moved with steady grace, the motions and words drawing power from the earth. It was not simply unpleasant—it made me want to turn and run. A foul smell came with the darkness, and smoke rolled into something viscous before shifting back to smoke again. It was not some simple charm. It was stronger, more potent and dangerous enough to be able to hold the changeling in bonds.
Chevelle would bind him from reaching his magic, the way Council and Asher had done to me so long ago. He would be spared his memories, but that was all. The bonds were a slippery thing, as I had proven, and there was no guarantee that some part of his magic couldn’t get through. Chevelle would follow the binding with other spells meant to physically restrain Pitt. We had no other way to cage him, not when the smallest misstep could give him his break, not when it took a fey lord and a dozen men to hold him.
Veil was right that killing him would have been easier. We might as well have been attempting to pin a wild animal with our bare hands.
Beyond Chevelle and the others, my cats prowled the deep grass. There was a shifting near Ruby, the movements of Steed, Thea, and the girl, Willa. I could see the top of Willa’s head, and then Ruby rose to her feet. Thea tried to restrain Ruby, and Steed steadied her by the other arm. Willa’s sword came up, and my mouth dropped open, ready to call an alert, but Steed let go of Ruby to grab the girl’s arm, and as Thea ducked away from a wild swing, Ruby darted toward the clearing, toward the changeling fey.
Veil cleared his throat, and suddenly I realized he held my arm. Before I could get a word out, I understood.
He was helping Ruby. They had made a bargain.
I didn’t know whether it was a warning or he would strike me down if I meant to stop her. At my incredulity, his mouth turned down. He clearly did not want to have his hand forced in the matter.
The tip of Junnie’s arrow slid carefully past my face, aimed again at the fey lord’s chest.
Veil glared down at Junnie. “Would you kindly stop doing that?”
It was not begging, not from a fey, but I faltered at his phrasing.
Junnie had no such compunction. “Give me one good reason why I should.”
“The halfling knows what she’s doing,” he said flatly.
Junnie and I looked back to the field, where Ruby was spinning deftly past Council soldiers and warrior fey, whip in hand. The changeling moved just as she neared him, and she struck out, wrapping the barbed leather around his chest. It constricted his arms and burned him, but through it all, Chevelle never missed a beat. Ruby tore open the changeling’s cloak, the material above her weapon ripping to shreds. Around his neck hung a long chain, woven with spelled twine, no doubt, and spelled to stay on his person. She jerked it free, screaming as it burned into her flesh.
Anvil and Grey had moved for her, and she lobbed the stone toward them before collapsing. Grey caught Ruby just before she hit the earth, tossing her easily over his shoulder to haul her away as Anvil guarded his back. Rhys and Rider shifted their positions to either side of Chevelle as the smoke rose higher and the spell wove tighter around the changeling, Pitt. His color had turned a dull greenish gray, something earthen and sickly at once.
I resisted the urge to distance myself, to step back and away from the smoke, from Pitt, from all of it. Junnie stood at my other side, having clearly come to understand that Veil only meant to prevent me from restraining Ruby before she retrieved the jewel.
We stood together, three kingdoms’ lords who had nearly watched it all fall apart at the hands of a single changeling fey.
23
Frey
The smoke settled around Chevelle, curling into thin wisps before falling to the ground like ash. The stench of sulfur and sourness lingered, but that was all. The casting was done. Pitt lay stunned in the center of the circle of charred earth and soldiers, and I wondered briefly what Ruby had endured before we arrived. A spike of irritation flashed through me, because it was not what she’d been through but what she had done—what she and Veil had done.
I brushed past him, ignoring the flip of his wing. Grey was settling Ruby’s body, limp and smeared with ash, down onto unburnt grass. Her eyes flitted open, and what I saw in them made me ill. I might have taken it as an apology, but I knew Ruby. She’d have done it all again if given the chance. Grey looked up at me with a pained expression, and I lay a hand on his shoulder. Thea stood back as if waiting for permission to approach, and I had the strange sense that the girl who had reacted without thought so often was doing that out of deference to me.
My head hurt. I needed to get away from the indistinct buzz of so many human minds in the distance to get some peace. I started to gesture Thea closer, but Junnie was there, leaning over Ruby to assess her wounds. I knew Junnie would take care of her.
I turned, finding Chevelle as he cleaned his hands from the spellwork on a strip of dark cloth. I walked closer, scenting the oil that coated the rag. Chevelle might have acted as if he’d no issue with spellcasting, but that didn’t stop him from taking every precaution to wipe the evidence of it clean. He did not look up at me, but I didn’t need him to. Just being near him was enough.
Steed approached, holding the girl Willa tightly by the shoulder. He thrust her toward Chevelle. “Is this one yours?”
Chevelle frowned at the girl, whose eyes were defiant. It was not the girl’s fault, really. Ruby had given her orders. And if Ruby and Veil knew the stone was so important, she might have actually saved them from some unpleasant fate. Chevelle’s stare seemed to be enough to crumble her silence.
“It was clearly not my intention to actually strike down the healer,” Willa said. “I only had to provide my lead time to escape.”
Chevelle shoved the oiled cloth into the pouch at his hip then brushed his palms together and let a free hand rest on the hilt of his sword.
The girl paled. Ruby might have been one of the Seven, but Chevelle was Second, the head of the guard.
He let her sweat for another long moment then gestured for one of the guards to take custody of her. I felt a little bad for her—it was going to be a terribly long ride home.
When she was gone, Steed and I shared a glance that said he had more to discuss. My grip tightened around the staff, and I wondered what else we had missed. I would not forgive Veil for the distractions at the castle or for him delaying us at the border, but I was ready to go. “It’s time to take leave,” I said. “Steed, if you can assist us with a fresh set of mounts”—I glanced at Ruby behind us, with Junnie and Grey at her sides—“we’ll leave who we can to wait with Ruby.”
Chevelle nodded, his gaze meeting Anvil’s across the clearing. Anvil held the stone Ruby had risked much for as she’d ripped it off the changeling’s neck. “Cursed fairies,” I muttered, brushing a hand over my face.
“Cursed fairies,” Chevelle echoed. His gaze was on mine, but I could feel the heat of Veil behind me.
�
�I’ll take the changeling.” Veil’s voice was level, and it was not a question.
I sighed and turned to face him. “You know Junnie will not accept that.”
“It’s not her decision to make,” he said. His arms were crossed over his chest, all pretense and posturing gone. The extended energy required to hold Pitt there instead of just ending him had weighed even on Veil.
There was a hiss in the clearing behind us, and I knew Veil had only professed his intent to get us to turn around. The fey were trying to steal the changeling as we faced the other direction.
I could hear the smirk in Chevelle’s voice. “It may be difficult, given that he’s spelled against fey magic.”
Veil’s face twisted into a sort of snarl. I tipped the end of my staff ever so slightly, daring him to move forward. He took note.
I very much liked my new weapon, even if I’d yet to test it on fey grounds.
“We will conference on the matter,” Junnie said from beside us. She’d left Ruby—and likely instructions for how best to care for her—with Thea and Grey. “For now, the changeling will be held at the encampment, where an appropriate holding cell has already been established.” Veil and I both gave her speculative glances over that, but she went on. “I suggest that a representative from each of your lands stay as witness to what we are able to draw from him.”
She did not have to say why. Veil would not travel so far from the base magic, and I could not bear to stay near so many humans. No one could trust that leaving the changeling with Veil would end in anything but murder, and I certainly didn’t want to drag him back to our own lands. It was the closest, most acceptable venue and the fastest way to get information from him. “Once we find the source and cure for the blight, we will meet on neutral ground.”
So it was not something she thought would be an easy fix, but that was unsurprising, I supposed, given that Veil had been willing to bargain with me to get some sort of reprieve from the human encroachment.
The Frey Saga Book V Page 11
