The Frey Saga Book IV

by Melissa Wright

  I turned to him, and he finally looked up at me, his gaze leaving the bloody mess that covered the library floor.

  It’s fine, I told him with my eyes. This was about Ruby. Ruby and Steed.

  We had been through much when I’d been taken to live under Council’s watch. But this was different. I had been bound, unable to remember who I was or what I’d lost. This was worse. Ruby would suffer. Ruby would know.

  When we reached the hallway bearing her rooms, it became apparent exactly how much fight Ruby had let loose. The stones were charred and covered in splatter, six different shades of tonic and blends. Ringlets of smoke still rose from the floor in patches, the tapestries in smoldering shreds.

  There wasn’t a sign of her attackers anywhere, aside from the few actual pieces of men. The spiders had a specialty, an ability to slide in, snare their prey as if indeed an eight-legged creature dropping from the ceiling on invisible thread.

  But these beasts did not have eight legs. They had two. And sticky as their snares might be, they had flown out of here no different than any other fey.

  Anvil squatted beside some part of one, possibly a chunk of leg. “Doesn’t appear she’s lost her fight any. Must have been a bear to capture her. Likely they were ordered to keep her in one piece.”

  I couldn’t imagine the struggle of anyone trying to take Ruby alive. I scanned the window sills and doorways, searching for some hint of which way they’d gone. They were going to be impossible to trail. Once they’d cleared the castle walls, they’d stay airborne until they reached the protection of the trees. And they were fast. The most likely path they’d taken was the northeast crag, flying low and out of sight to the first cover. “They’re probably near Grenval’s Peak by now.”

  We might have had a chance at finding her, maybe using the birds, but the fey had known as much. They’d known I could control animals, see out of their eyes from where I stood and direct them to action. I would have been able to track the culprits from the sky and attack them with every beast in range. They’d hung around long enough to prevent anything of the sort. I hoped Rhys had found her. I prayed he was staying back far enough to keep from harm himself.

  Grey stood in the doorway, his face pale, hair disheveled. He couldn’t seem to decide where to look.

  There was no single mark in the entire space that didn’t scream of the battle that had taken place there. Of Ruby, fighting for her life against a pack of formidable beasts.

  Being overtaken.

  Being stolen from her own home.

  I straightened, spine abruptly rigid with the anger of what they’d done. I wasn’t sure why it had taken so long to affect me, for the full emotion of it to sink in. I’d done my duty, shown my political response. But this was personal now. They’d snuck into my castle and stolen one of my guard from her own room. They were going to pay, and not just with a single hand apiece.

  “Grey,” I snapped. He looked at me, wrenched from whatever horrible scenario his mind had been playing. I shifted the sword at my hip. “Ready the horses.”

  He didn’t smile, but his posture eased, some part of him desperate to act despite all the reasons not to.

  My eyes met Chevelle’s, both of us knowing this was dangerous ground. Fighting the fey was one thing, following them onto their land was wholly another, not to mention the warning against it. And still, I could not do nothing.

  “Rider, gather what you’ll need to track your brother,” I said. A list was populating in my head, all of the things we’d have to do and all of the traps the fey would set. And Steed. Where had Liana taken Steed? I pressed my eyes closed. “Can we please send someone to find that cursed fairy?”

  “I’ll put a sentry on it,” Rider answered as he prepared to go.

  “Thank you.” I nodded, wishing somehow I could promise the safe return of Rhys—not simply Rider’s brother but his only living family—but at this point, I didn’t have that confidence. Not if he’d followed them into the heart of the fey lands. Had they reached the rivers by now? Would they be that far?

  My scrutiny returned to the walls of Ruby’s room. I was certain she’d find a way to leave at least some clue if she had any idea who was behind this, where they might be taking her, or why. Overturned bottles and broken glass lined her once-tidy shelves, the contents of so many elixirs trailing darkened streaks down the carved stone and pooling where it met the floor. The room stank of smoke and sulfur, and some earthy, unidentifiable residue. It was laced with a floral scent—almost untraceable but possibly amaranth and camellia oil. It was confusing, the jumble of so many of Ruby’s spilled concoctions and the lingering sense of fey, so I left it to Chevelle and Anvil while I searched for something visual left out of place.

  It was difficult when everything felt out of place.

  Once we’d exhausted our search, each of us ill from the fumes and filthy with tinted dust and the black smudges of burned cloth and wood, we headed to find Grey. We were near Rider’s rooms when I noticed that Anvil’s wound had soaked through his shirt. He looked a little pale.

  “Why don’t you take a minute,” I told him. “We’ll gather Grey and Rider and meet you in your study.” His brow tilted, but he didn’t argue. It was going to be a long ride, after all. “And I’ll see if I can’t find someone who’s good with a needle.”

  “Aye,” he answered. “Someone decent enough.”

  His steps moved slower as Chevelle and I continued on, and I knew he’d fought the fey with everything he had. I wondered which of the high fey he’d taken. I hadn’t thought to ask. In the scope of things, it hadn’t seemed to matter.

  We met Grey in the stables, where the horses appeared to be unharmed from the attack on the castle. He already had them saddled and packed, and Rider stood by his side. “We have a few things to take care of first,” I explained. “It shouldn’t be more than…” I glanced at the sky, surprised at the height of the sun. It seemed like days now, but I’d only been woken before dawn and everything had happened so fast. “We’ll be mounted by midday,” I assured him.

  They stood in the shadows of an overhang, and once we’d been there a moment I realized why. News had traveled through the castle. We were starting to garner an audience, all waiting to see my response to the first official incident since I’d settled firmly into my role as head of the north.

  I glanced at the palace staff, so many men and women depending on us, wagering with their lives.

  This had happened too quickly. I’d never wanted to rule, never wanted to be in Asher’s place. I’d only wanted away from him, to save myself and the people I cared about. He’d left me no choice in the matter. It had been him or me—years of suffering and betrayal at his side, the torture of everyone I loved, the misuse of my power… or this.

  Chevelle’s sentries were gathered in the courtyard, one of the castle’s most proficient sentinels at their head. Edan stood watchful before the new recruits, undoubtedly hesitant to show them the lay of the land until this mess got sorted out.

  “I should probably deal with this,” Chevelle said, a note of frustration in his voice. It was perhaps the worst time to have brought in new recruits.

  A tall girl in a dark tunic and pants caught sight of Grey, her eyes lighting with a smile until she took in his expression. I wasn’t sure he even noticed her among the crowd.

  There were a half-dozen of them, fresh young faces from Camber and the surrounding camps. A stout male, standing particularly still, caught my attention and I realized it was Camren’s son. The boy had lost his parents to our cause, his mother in the battle against Council and his father as a castle sentry. His stillness made sense then, as my own sight of him brought back those memories in a rush. I acknowledged him with a small nod, and he seemed to relax.

  Chevelle exchanged a few short reports with the head sentry and gave him instructions for our upcoming absence. It reminded me of the scrape we’d been in, and I looked down, surprised again at my state. We probably shouldn’t be traipsing a
cross the countryside looking like we’d just slaughtered an army.

  “I suppose we should clean up,” I said. “Though I doubt anyone’s not heard of the scuffle by now.” I turned to Edan. “If you’ve got someone skilled at stitching, Anvil could use a hand.”

  The girl in the tunic spoke up then, stepping forward only a half pace. “I can do it,” she offered, her words directed not at me but her next in command. Edan looked as if he planned to deny her and she said, “I’ve got ten years’ experience stitching the animals, and no less than that doctoring those wretched rogues.”

  Edan’s lip twitched, possibly because Anvil would not normally be lumped in with either livestock or rogues, but the man still jerked his head to silence her. She stepped back into her place, gaze cast down but shoulders straight.

  Her dark clothing was worn and frayed, the leather belt tightened around her slender waist rubbed and nicked. I assumed the latter was from working with the animals kept outside of Camber, the town’s staple supply of meat. She looked sturdy enough to wield a sword, but I wondered what had inspired her to join the castle guard.

  Grey had apparently come out of his contemplations and recognized the girl. He told Edan, “I can vouch for her. I’ve seen her work; it’s good enough for Anvil.”

  I had a feeling “good enough for Anvil” meant that it was going to hurt and not necessarily look clean. But we were short-handed, and not a lot of us had taken the time to learn how to close wounds properly. We’d had people to do that for us. People like Ruby.

  “He’s in the study,” I told Grey. “Make it swift.”

  4

  Frey

  I rinsed my skin clean in the basin, the water a glistening pool of blood and ash. It took another pitcher for my arms, and one more just to make sure I was truly clean. My thoughts kept returning to Steed’s broken body, to Ruby’s destroyed room, to Grey’s face as he waited with the horses, stroking them in steady, even movements.

  Slow and gentle were not the words I would normally associate with Grey, but he’d been raised with horses. They calmed him in an abstract, absent kind of way. Not at all the way Steed was with the animals, not his entire being. I could almost hear Steed’s low words, his calming hum. I realized now a younger Steed must have shared them with his sister, for they were the same soothing tunes Ruby had used to sing me to sleep so many times when my mind had been a mess of bindings and chaos.

  All of that seemed so far away now. I’d been rescued, restored to my home and placed upon the throne, and Ruby was one of my high guard. It was easy to forget she was a halfbreed like me. Different than me, though, because while I was half-human, the part of her that wasn’t elven was something stronger, something stranger. She was some measure fire fairy.

  Ruby had the magic, she was aware of the spells and trickeries of the fey, but she was also of our world. She had lived as an elf, despite the fire in her blood.

  Given the fey fascination with horses, it didn’t seem a coincidence that her full-blooded mother would have found Steed’s father—who bred the animals—for her own plot. But I didn’t know much of the woman aside from that. She’d been desirous of power, and though that wasn’t unusual among her kind, she’d gone above and beyond to get it. She’d researched, she’d planned, she’d played deceit and wile at the level of fey legends. Most of them didn’t possess that kind of patience.

  Ruby had been her mother’s prize for combining her magic with Steed’s father’s. What she hadn’t known was that her prize came with a price. Her baby daughter had been venomous.

  It had cost her life.

  So powerful. Deadly poison.

  A hand touched the small of my back through the thin material of my shirt and I jumped, the clasp of my vest clattering into the bowl where it settled against the bottom. The crest of my line stared back at me from the carved ornament, a watchful hawk. The snake in its beak seemed to writhe beneath the rippling water.

  Chevelle’s arms wound around my waist and I leaned into him. His chest was bare, skin clean and dry.

  But he hadn’t been covered in blood, I reminded myself.

  We’d had three seasons of peace. Three seasons without bloodshed and the endless fear, and Chevelle had made up for it. He had spent every spare moment like this, simply being. I knew the seasons before had been hard, even once he’d found me and managed to slip me away from Council’s watch and the village. We had been separated by a terrible chain of events, and I’d not been myself then, couldn’t be trusted not to break. But he’d still been bound to me, regardless of the castings Council and Asher had laid upon me.

  Chevelle had been bound to me, even when he’d had to use the long string of binding words that had never been my name. Even when he’d had to pretend.

  So many times he’d wanted to touch me. I could see it now, understand. But he hadn’t. And now he didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t like to think of it. Now I was his.

  The bonds were broken. Asher was gone, Fannie was gone, and there was nothing hanging over our heads. I was finally free.

  As free as anyone bound by the obligations of a crown.

  I thought briefly of warning Junnie of this new trouble with the fey, but I was certain she’d already heard of the attack. She’d had a lot bigger mess than I’d come back to after our encounter with Asher’s own half-fey child. At least my lands had some semblance of order; Junnie’s entire system was new, the previous Council destroyed, along with a half-dozen of the northernmost villages and several trusted allies. She’d had to fight to keep the footing she’d gained, and use a harsh hand against those who opposed the change and what she’d done to initiate it.

  Those things had been far from my mind recently, and when I recalled the idea of the small human babe in Junnie’s care, I pushed them all away. I turned to Chevelle.

  “Who’s doing this?”

  He brushed a damp strand of hair from my face, fingers trailing to the skin of my neck. “I don’t know.”

  The truce between Junnie and me, between the kingdom of the north and the villages and grasslands of the south, had been keeping a war at bay. The fey had no reason to come here. The balance of power was intact.

  “It’s not about her, right?” Not truly because they wanted Ruby.

  Chevelle shook his head, indicating he didn’t have any more idea than I.

  “It can’t be,” I said. “They can’t have started a war for one half-fey girl.”

  Neither of us mentioned the one that had nearly started over a half-human one. My mother had gone mad, fighting Asher and inciting a battle between Council and the North that turned not just to bloodshed, but an outright massacre. We were fortunate to be alive, any one of us. I especially, who’d only made it through by a tenuous agreement between Junnie and Chevelle, by his maneuverings and the courage of my Seven. We had fought so hard to stay alive, and life was what we had now. It was all that mattered, the lives of each of us, the lives of our people.

  “It’s not war,” Chevelle said. “Not yet.”

  It would be. The moment we left, the moment we went after her. The fey would be waiting and we would not back down.

  It didn’t matter. They would go to war over nothing. We’d seen it in the past.

  “It got them riled up,” I said, sliding closer into Chevelle’s embrace. “The taste of it, so close. Just like the attack on Camber, they couldn’t wait.”

  “If that were true,” he offered, hand slipping lower to brace my hip against his, “they would never have bothered with the pretense. Not if enough of them were decided.”

  I sighed. He was right. We wouldn’t guess, not with the fey. We would have to go, find Ruby, and discover what ridiculous web of trickeries it would lead us through.

  I turned, leaving the clasp inside the basin, and Chevelle took my hand in his. His hands were strong, so much stronger than mine, but it belied the gentleness in them, the warmth and tender attention that came every single time he wound his fingers through my own. He di
dn’t speak, but the gesture said everything I needed to hear: You have me. No matter what end.

  I nodded, pulling free to tighten my leather vest. Chevelle watched me, and I had the sense he wanted to offer to go in my stead. But he wouldn’t.

  Ruby was one of the Seven. This was my place.

  I gathered my armor, lacing the long wrist cuffs on each arm. I wore all I could with metal plate, not a favorite of the fey. Sharp edges covered every part of me, mirroring the change in my mood. It was a prickling anger, hardened by the fact that I had no other choice.

  Chevelle laced up his own shirt, drawing a leather breastplate over his chest. It was centered with a carved medallion, the wings of the hawk curling beyond its edge. He wore the gear of a warrior like he was born for it, despite the memory of the little girl in me that had never wanted him to be a soldier for the throne. We weren’t children anymore though, and this wasn’t my grandfather’s throne. I was the only one who could do what had to be done, and I wanted Chevelle at my side.

  “I’m going to head to the armory,” he said. “I will meet you in the study when I’m done.”

  I nodded, knowing it would not be simply blades he would collect. The armory held other weapons, packets of dust and mixes, concoctions to fight the fey where our magic couldn’t. There would be scrolls. Spells.

  And then Chevelle would be back at my side, the only way we could anchor my power.

  I had the sudden, sickening surety of what we were about to risk. But I couldn’t not go after Ruby; I could do nothing but give my life for any of my guard after what they had risked for me. The real danger was not my own life. The dread came because what was at stake was Asher’s magic in the hands of the fey.

  Veil hadn’t wanted this before, not like he did now. He might have had an interest in me, but the draw had little to do with this power. Until Asher, there was no magic that had the ability to break a realm. Not on its own.

  The nature of the magic in the light and dark elves was different. I could remember one of the rogue bands from when I was young, their war motto scribbled across bloodied shields: They grow, we burn. It had been a taunt, but it went deeper than that. The magic wasn’t interchangeable.