Run.
But Veil’s amber eyes bore into mine, his grip holding me firm. He was right. Even if he’d not prevented events from being maneuvered here, it was over for me. The end was coming for my Seven, and if I didn’t play my cards right, the entire realm would be at the mercy of the worst of these fey.
Humans, my thoughts kept taunting me. Humans right beyond that clearing.
They brushed my mind, countless. Endless. Unceasing.
“I have to get away from here,” I told him. “Just for a moment, to clear my head.”
“They are everywhere,” Veil answered. “Beyond this band lies more and more. They’ve overrun the prairies and woodlands. Our forests are next.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. Whatever it is—” Sick, twisted imaginings began to claw at me. What was it that Veil wanted? For me to control them? To use them as my mother had? I could see the masses of them, mindlessly rising up to swarm the fey court on my command, only to be slaughtered by the high fey powers. It would be a sea of blood, borne of my own hands. I could not create an army of these beings as my mother had. Would not. Or was that what he was after, to have them eradicated? Removed from this land? The land that, even now, felt foreign to me, off in a way that didn’t have to do with fey power or the presence of these creatures?
But no, Veil knew me better than that. Regardless of our differences, even with the hopelessness of my situation, didn’t he know me well enough to know that this was out of the scope of my abilities and far beyond my will? I glanced over my shoulder, convinced we were absolutely alone.
On his own land, Veil was stronger than me. With access to those powers, he could crush me in a matter of seconds. But here, something was strange. He was vulnerable, and he was trusting me, trusting that I would listen, would not take that risk and try to end him before I ran beyond these trees and away from the entire mess.
It wasn’t a true possibility, I supposed. I could not fathom leaving my guard or the realm. But it was something, because if he had wanted to convince me by threat or by bargain, all he would’ve had to do was let the heliotropes push against my will. He was letting me choose.
“All right,” I told him finally. “I’m listening.”
Veil turned to lead me away from this barrier of trees, further into the brush and insulated by distance.
There were too many of them. I only realized it when we’d walked far enough away. I’d heard the legends, the stories, but never had I imagined the scope of it.
“How long?” I asked him. “How long have they been out there?”
Veil nodded, apparently pleased that I’d understood the gravity of this situation for everyone, though I couldn’t be sure he knew I’d felt the unsettling change in the base power. “They’ve been encroaching on the boundary for some time now, but the problem has become widespread only recently.”
Time meant something different to the fey, it mattered little unless they awaited a prize. Years would slip by unnoticed, and then they wanted something, and suddenly seconds stretched with agony. Veil’s words came back to me, his mention of my predecessor’s plans, and my heart lost its speed, instead turning to a slow, crushing beat. “You said Asher.” I peered at Veil, who’d lost a bit of his glimmering allure in this darkened copse. “How long did he know?”
Veil slipped the palm of one hand over the other. His wings were tucked tight against his back. I didn’t think he liked it here any more than I. “Nearly as long as the rest of us, I suppose.”
“And this plan you mentioned?”
“Of course, his plan to take control of them.” Veil’s shoulder lifted, the movement too graceful to be considered a shrug. “By any means necessary.”
My thoughts went again to the diary, to the history my mother had written out. As a child, she’d lost her mother to grief, a mother whose brightness had been stolen from her after being bound to the Lord of the North. By any means necessary. I bit out, “Like stealing a light elf for his bride.”
Veil smirked. “It wasn’t the light magic he was after.”
It was her gift.
Like mine.
23
Thea
By all accounts, Junnie had relocated to the lands bordering the Northern territory. It had been an odd move to say the least, putting her far away from her most dangerous adversaries, and too close to the half-breed high lord she’d broken with Council over. Or, more precisely, the high lord who had broken Council with her.
Thea didn’t have much love for the old Order of Light Elves and their politics, but no one was overly comfortable with destroying the one body who actually kept order among the southern villages. Their laws might have been strict, their principles skewed, but they had maintained peace. Everyone knew what a Council tracker was—not much more than a bloodhound and murderer—and the threat of those men was enough to keep the more dangerous of the light elves from straying too far into the mountains. Now, it was hard to tell when you were safe and even harder to imagine when Junnie would finally get them settled into a new order.
“How much farther?” Steed asked.
He’d been quiet for the better part of an hour, and Thea knew he was hurting. He did look improved, though, despite the sweat beading his pale brow. She nodded toward a small rise ahead, the trees bright with midsummer growth. It wasn’t midsummer, and few of the trees were native. “We should be getting nearer. A few lengths past that ridge, I’d wager.” Can’t you see the signs? she wanted to ask him. She wouldn’t risk it in front of the men, even if they did know he’d been poisoned by a fey blade, even if there was no way he should be alive, let alone sprinting down the countryside on horseback.
“No, not past the ridge,” Steed answered. His horse—muscled and black with a long, even gait and narrow ears—came to a stop and Steed stared into the sparse trees lining the clearing beside them. “She’s here.”
Thea followed his gaze, finding a huge black wolf among the shadows, still as stone aside from its steady, measured breathing. “It’s true, then? She’s got the gift as well.”
Steed glanced at her over his shoulder, apparently caught off guard by the remark. But he had to know what the rumors spoke of, didn’t he? That the power that allowed Lord Freya to join with the mind of a beast ran to her through this old line’s veins, all of them her ancestors, and all except these two murdered at the hands of Lord Asher.
Before they’d taken their revenge on him, of course. Say what you wanted about the Lord of the North, but half-human frailty or no, her enemies had a way of falling at her feet—and not in deference for her crown.
“Juniper Fountain,” Thea called into the trees. “Steed Summit of the High Guard and One of Seven to Elfreda, Lord of the North, summons you to convene and confer upon the most urgent of matters.”
Steed’s brow rose.
“Make haste,” Thea yelled to the beast.
The wolf lay down in a bit of an unnatural manner, and then resumed a more wolf-like state. Its tongue lolled from its mouth, hanging between rows of sharp, white teeth.
Thea leaned toward Steed, whispering, “What, exactly, does this magic do to them?”
Steed shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure, but it never becomes less disconcerting.”
Thea pressed her lips. “So, if she wasn’t interested in talking and wanted to just roll my own horse right over me as I sit—”
“I could do it in a heartbeat.”
The voice came from behind them, where all present had been watching the dark wolf among the opposite trees.
“Juniper,” Steed said, apparently not at all surprised by the move and not interested in admonishing his troops for missing the woman’s approach.
Thea frowned; she’d missed it as well.
“I’ve heard no sign of trouble,” Junnie told Steed. “And yet you are here, upon some urgent matter, and without another of your Seven.”
Steed eyed the trees, though Thea didn’t spot movement there apart from a gentle breeze.
>
“They are mine,” Junnie answered. “You are free to speak here.”
“The fey,” he explained. “They’ve taken Ruby, set a trap, and have Frey and the others beyond their borders.”
Junnie clutched her robes. They were two shades of gold, gilt leaves and fine ivy trailing the length of them and crossing over her hood. She threw them to the ground like so much trash, snapping her finger toward the trees. Several soldiers emerged from the copse behind her, dressed in dark tunic and pants, each armed with bow and sword. A thin male fetched her robes, folding them neatly as the others rushed past. The women wore no packs, simply quivers and sword sheaths, their hair in tight, intricate braids, their robes no more than silk hoods and a single drape. These were the runners, Thea realized. The men were their packhorses and a distraction to anyone who’d see this new Council’s procession when they traveled.
“I believe I have the key to get her back,” Steed continued. “And she’s left me a hint, some clue that led me to believe we might need you.”
Junnie approached the horses, taking note of Steed’s wan face. “You have me.”
Steed clicked his tongue and one of the spare horses from the rear of the pack rode forward. Junnie threw herself onto the animal’s back without question, and Thea glanced at the others who’d followed her from the trees. There were too many of them for the extra horses Steed had brought; several dozen would have to run. But that was the way it was done in these armies, wasn’t it? Runners and scouts and forces spread across the terrain.
Thea’s stomach plummeted. Their forces had suddenly doubled and what had seemed like a harmless band of guards was turning into an army. An army that intended to march right into the fey lands.
Junnie shouted direction at several of her men, and then turned back to Steed. “We have to make a stop.”
Some unspoken message passed between the two. Despite Junnie having joined in Steed’s dicey bid without blinking an eye, he didn’t seem to like whatever that message entailed.
He didn’t argue though, or question, or press her at all. Instead, he inclined his head to give her the lead and they went, dark and light elf alike, across the open clearing and through the solid line of trees that commenced a southern forest.
It was a winding, treacherous path, even as the trees ahead parted, uncoiling from complicated braids and barriers where Junnie rode through. Thorns and hemlock brushed Thea’s boots, tangled limbs snagging at her hair. The path became tighter, more snarled, and the late day sun was lost to a canopy of leaves.
Eventually, Junnie slowed, giving some signal to Steed before dismounting her horse. He threw up a hand, gesturing for the procession to wait.
Junnie walked farther into the trees, her steps careful, less swift. Her dark pants and tunic belonged here, blending seamlessly with the shadowy brush. She disappeared through a set of thick pines, barely rustling their boughs.
Thea waited, watching those pines, watching the men who watched those pines, watching the trees with their chirps and chatter.
It was too hot. It smelled of freesia. It felt wrong. Too alive. Thea wanted to throw off her cloak, but she couldn’t tolerate the idea of her skin being uncovered in the closeness of these particular trees.
She wanted to turn tail and run home.
Birds nested in the branches around them, and she couldn’t help but feel like they were watching. All of them. She shuddered involuntarily, and Steed glanced at her sidelong. Keep it together, Thea, she admonished herself. This was not the worst they were going to see.
Not even close.
When Junnie finally emerged from the trees, it was in full fighting leathers. Her form was lean, slim pants and high boots, a single knife sheath at her waist. Her arms were covered not for heading north, but in the deep, lush greens that were the colors of the fey forests. Not that Thea had ever been there. It was warm, she’d heard, and terrible and terrifying and all the things she’d never want to see. Even if Junnie didn’t look eager, she’d apparently planned for that—a quiver full of pine and birchwood arrows rested on her back, each one tipped with polished steel.
Junnie latched a dark cloak into the clasps at her shoulder, glancing meaningfully at Steed before a shadowed form shifted the brush behind her. For a moment, Thea thought it was the wolf, but the thing was too tall, its hair too long, its mouth less menacing and more… big, slobbery grin. It was a dog, she realized, a giant beast of a thing with black hair and mahogany eyes and nearer the size of a pony than any dog she’d ever seen. Its nose twitched as it took in all of them, the beast evidently satisfied they held no true threat as it panted, ears lying loose on the sides of its massive head.
Thea was near speaking when the dog stiffened, posture going abruptly from pet and possible plaything to guard and possible threat. It was only a moment before Thea realized why, and she did not miss that Junnie’s posture had changed as well.
The whole of the group, already on edge, as well as the entire wood, already constricting, went silent, still as death when the next form shifted among the trees, stepping out between the two.
She was small and thin, but not entirely fragile. Scrawny with youth, Thea’s father would have said. Her eyes were huge and bright beneath a mess of black hair, her face eerily familiar, down to the stubborn jut of her chin.
Thea could not believe what—who—she was looking at. “You can’t be serious,” she barked.
Steed turned his gaze from the girl to look at her, and though it wasn’t the snap of the head that usually accompanied a reprimand, she knew she’d spoken out of turn.
She couldn’t stop herself. “She is a child,” Thea argued. “You cannot take her into the fey forests. Not among a million guards.” She didn’t need to gesture toward their army, which was far less than that sum.
This child was important. This child meant something to the light elves. Maybe Junnie had only saved her and the others had only allowed it because of their reverence for beasts—because there was a possibility this child carried that trait, the connection to animals that Freya and Junnie had, or some other, unknown talent that would be wrong to destroy, because she had been picked by Asher among all the others who had not fared as well. But even if that were true, if she held that power and could connect with the beasts, it didn’t matter.
The light elves wouldn’t kill animals. The fey had no such compulsion.
But there was more, Thea thought, rumors of the girl’s unnatural power. Whispers that she sought her own kind.
“The child won’t stay here without me,” Junnie answered. Her voice was even and cool. “I will not leave her. She remains at my side, or you fight this alone.”
Steed ran a hand over his face.
“Because you care about her?” Thea said. She should really have strapped her mouth shut by now, but couldn’t seem to get a rein on it. “How can you possibly—”
“Thea,” Steed snapped.
She bit her tongue, hating the heat that ran through her. It was just a child, a small, helpless girl. If Junnie wanted her safe, the last place she should be was on fey lands.
Junnie stepped forward, gaze cutting sharply to the others among their guard. “The child stays with me. I will protect her at all cost.” Her eyes stopped on Steed. “I will protect her as my own.”
The promise was there, beneath her words. Junnie wouldn’t simply protect this child with her life.
She would protect Freya as well.
24
Frey
Veil hadn’t spoken a word of the humans or his proposal since we’d left the outer lands. I didn’t know how many others knew what waited there, if they were aware of the danger. Was it superstition keeping them from speaking of it, or had it been forbidden?
No, I thought, something worse. Outright fear of what was to come.
I hadn’t given him an answer, but I was running out of time. It was little more than a day until the gathering, and I’d have to choose. I’d thought Veil had the upper hand, but I
’d been wrong. We were both at the mercy of the fates, and we’d be lucky if either of us made it through with our lands intact, let alone our lives.
I had wanted to live in peace for so long, even though now that comprised an entire kingdom, one that I’d spent my life trying to run away from. I had never wanted it, but looking back, it wasn’t the throne I’d been running from. It had been Asher.
These last seasons, I’d finally gotten settled into that role, and the people of the North were my responsibility. They were not to be bartered or risked.
In the end, what Veil had offered hadn’t been a true fey bargain; as far as fey trades went, it had been scarcely short of pleading. But I didn’t know if I could give Veil what he thought the fey needed.
I didn’t know if he could deliver what he’d promised in return.
“The black one, you fool,” Flora snapped.
Virtue glared at the other heliotrope. I didn’t need their gift to know what she was thinking. Virtue was a fey warrior, not a maid and wardrober. But Veil wouldn’t let anyone else touch me, only these two, who could feel any intent to harm that the other might do, and warn him in advance.
“She is Lord of the North,” Flora said over my head. “Black. Black. Black.” She yanked on the braid she’d been twining with silver thread, and I grimaced, not only at the sting, but at the none-too-subtle imitation of a crown. This was ridiculous, and necessary. And far too much like the banquets I’d been forced to attend as a child.
Virtue shoved a heap of black leather at me, unconcerned with me as much as Flora where she stood behind my back. “There. Black. My work here is done; I’ll be patrolling the balcony.”
“The screen,” Flora ordered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the opposite wall. They’d brought in a half-dozen trunks, all of which were now opened and heaped with fabric, ribbon, and jewels. Virtue might have been annoyed with attending me, but I knew she’d soon be costumed as well. This was the high fey court, and it was the eve of the fates’ dance.
The Frey Saga Book IV Page 11
