But, no, this wasn’t the dress. It had burned when she had burned. This gown had been created by Junnie. It was a symbol. A warning to council.
Because of my mother, that white dress had become legend among the light elves. It had given the stories that indefinable something, had even made them appealing enough for the fairies to repeat. Not that I’d ever heard them. Bound as I was, the villagers would never have dared reveal anything of my past. But I had heard since I’d been back. And I understood.
Junnie had left me that dress when Council had decided to try me. They intended to imprison me, and Junnie had sent them a grave reminder.
And the crystal necklace. It had no real power, but it had frightened the council leaders unreasonably. I guessed that was a kind of power of its own. Just a token, that was all it took.
An idea for the banquet was finally forming. I nodded as I slid into a pair of black leather pants, adjusted my top to cover the wound on my arm, and laced up my boots. I would not wear the armor over my injured shoulder, so I opted for wrist cuffs and seated a light cape into the shoulder clasps fashioned after hawks. I would be a warrior this evening, and I would look the part.
I began to step into the next chamber, but stopped. I hadn’t wanted most of what Ruby had left for me, but there was one thing that might prove useful.
I slid a small canister from the bag, lining my eyes with gloss black, nearly the exact shade as my hair and lashes. It highlighted the green perfectly. One of a kind, I thought. And then smirked, as Ruby sported her own set as well. Let them think of that.
I strapped on my sword and headed for the study to meet the others.
Grey, Anvil, and Steed were waiting for me, each decked out in their castle finery. Steed and Grey had yet to get used to the formal gatherings, but they definitely looked the part. Leather and silver adorned their upper bodies, weapons at hip and back. They were strong, and though Grey appeared lean next to Anvil’s mass, the group somehow managed to give off a unified feel. Steed wiggled his eyebrows at my appearance. I ignored him.
“What news?”
“The witnesses have confirmed the identity of the intruder,” Grey reported. “Due to the banquet, we have been unable to gather more information regarding his route to the castle, but once here, he’d not been linked to anyone.”
“Has anyone of note refused the invitation?”
“No,” Anvil answered. “All are anxious to bear witness to the new power they have heard of, or to see you fall.” He smiled.
“I would imagine,” I said. “No change, then. We will proceed as planned.”
Steed and Grey did a little salute of sorts at my command, the shuffle of their boots on stone bringing my attention to their straightened posture. I shook my head absently at their dutifulness.
“To the hall.”
As with the throne room, there was a private entrance to the hall, designed to allow direct access to the designated position without having to navigate the crowds. Asher didn’t like to be touched. Still, it was a good idea and also handy for a grand entrance.
Chevelle was waiting for me there. I had the pleasure of seeing his jaw go tight at my arrival, but was quickly distracted by his own getup. He had been raised wearing the garb of a warrior and it fit him well. It had been a very long time since I had seen him so, and I’d forgotten exactly how well. I cleared my throat.
“Elfreda.” He nodded formally.
“Vattier,” I threw back, and irritation took over as his chief emotion. I could deal with that. The other was too distracting.
He quickly reviewed the arrangements for the evening before asking, “Have you made your decision on the demonstration, or do you merely plan to wing it?”
I didn’t bite. “I have a fully choreographed performance. Not to worry.”
He looked dubious. We stood there for a moment, knowing a full hall awaited us, but neither eager to proceed. He would not be at my side through the evening, as Asher had spent many years planting seeds of distrust and prejudice against Chevelle to prevent any alliance on my part. My public denial of him had done nothing to help, either. As it was, the position he held as my guard was generating plenty of whispers.
Chevelle stepped forward, his hand unexpectedly on my waist, and my pulse stuttered for an instant. But he spun me around, speaking low as he did so, explaining, “Checking your wound. No one must see this.” He adjusted the material, verifying everything was still in place, and spun me once more to face the door as he stood behind me. His hands ran the edge of my cape to settle on the bare skin of my upper arms and he leaned in to murmur, “Show them who you are.”
Damn him. His breath on my ear caused a shiver and then his hand found my lower back and gave a little push toward the door. I didn’t look back when I heard a low chuckle.
I was glad we’d called “even” earlier, because I was about to tip the scales.
The hall fell silent the moment I entered. They had been waiting on my arrival, but no doubt the synchronized “stop everything you’re doing and turn to the dais” action of all the servers and related castle personnel didn’t hurt. I stopped for a moment, found each of my guard (excepting Ruby) scattered about the room, purposefully not acknowledging the presence of any leaders. I’d had a gathering previously, but not of this magnitude, and many were left out intentionally, so I continued as if no other had occurred.
“As the former guard is disbanded,” a reminder that we’d killed them, “I have invited the clans to gather,” a reminder they were here upon invitation, “to honor the seven of my new guard.”
These men were no fools. They had watched my eyes fall upon only six men. The guard was unmistakable in dress and stature, so there would be no question as to who stood among them. However, there would be a building curiosity to the identity of the seventh. I nodded toward the steward and service began. It was an incredibly brief speech, but there was more to come.
I stepped from the dais and took my seat at the head of the table to feast among the leaders of the north. The room was situated not as the dining area with its long, narrow tables, but with many short tables, arranged so that my slightly elevated position became the focus of the room, as well as the dais behind me.
Anvil had positioned the attendees in order of preference; two elderly men who had supported me throughout sat on either side, progressively going to less supportive, more troublesome, and downright dangerous from there. That meant most of the rogue clan leaders were across the room, and I avoided their stares as I was served. I raised my glass to the air and toasted, “The Seven,” before bringing it to my lips, the scent of oak and spiceberry hanging in wait. Rhys and Rider’s gazes took in those who did not join in.
A feast was served, and as instructed, the wine flowed at an increasing rate. Soon, the hall was loud with conversation, banter, and debate. Those near me, thanks to Anvil’s design, did not speak of much, so I was able to catch bits of various discussions throughout the room. In an attempt to disguise my focus, I let my eyes fall on the immense tapestries insulating the cool stone walls, most adorned with images of my crest and a variety of innocuous scenes, as Ruby had removed any in tribute to Asher. In truth, she had any evidence of him that could feasibly be removed taken from the grounds and burned. The largest part of the castle was pretty bare at the moment. But torches, candles, ridiculous centerpieces, and elaborate dishes seemed to be more than adequate cover, in this room at least.
The clansmen were more at ease, loosing their armor, shedding cloaks, leaning back in their chairs, sated with food, wine, and talk.
Sudden warmth against my palm stole my focus, the signal from Ruby. I looked down to find the napkin under my hand had caught fire, but I was able to snuff it out before anyone noticed. I would have to be more specific with the details next time.
I straightened in my chair just in time to see her enter. I gasped, but the slip went unnoticed in the noise. It was fortunate, as an instant later the hall fell silent. I’d nearly giv
en myself away, but I’d not expected her to follow through so absolutely.
I gave them a moment to take in what I’d seen. A petite fairy, covered from chest to toe in slim black leather, arms bare but for wrist cuffs, belted with short, shiny knives, and donning the crest of the guard at her collar. The brown leather whip at her hip had been exchanged for polished black, with what appeared to be silver spikes at the tip. Her heeled boots were gone, as she’d laced into the flat guard issue. Her face was unpainted and impassive. All that remained of the familiar Ruby was the blazing red hair that curled feral around her, proclaiming her fey.
Before anyone had a chance to regain themselves, I stood, raising my glass to Ruby. “Now that we are all present, let the festivities begin.”
One more breath of stunned silence was all that remained before the hall erupted into anger, protest, and an assortment of exclamations of disbelief. I drank the toast, but didn’t see whether any of my guard partook, because my eyes were still on the fairy guard. She watched only me, not the crowd, and I smiled at her. I couldn’t help it.
So far, I thought I was off to a pretty good start.
Chapter Seven
Inferno
The room was near chaos. I had a feeling Ruby was happy.
I wasn’t sure how long to give the disorder before proceeding to the next step, but the display received a stronger reaction than I’d planned, and it was gaining momentum. Maybe we’d served too much wine. I sat, contemplating my next move, and the crowd seemed to settle a bit. One of the guests stood, and I realized they’d only quieted to hear his confrontation. With me.
I leaned forward in waiting, not surprised to find it was Rothus.
He was tall and broad, nearly as large as Anvil. His black hair was long, slicked back into a braid. He wore a cape of fur and a pegged mallet hung at his waist. He had plenty of magic, but he preferred blunt force. I nearly winced at the thought of what he’d likely done to the animal whose pelt covered his shoulders.
“You dishonor these grounds with a fey whore.”
Ooh, that would do it. I stood to meet his gaze. “You challenge my decision?”
All sound ceased but the flickering of torchlight.
Rothus was a prideful man who held grudges at his chest with no notion of release. He hated fey as they hated iron. What I didn’t know was whether he held that hatred above his current existence. The silence keyed him in on his mistake and he pushed his chair back to take a knee, but he didn’t exactly recant. “They have no place among us.”
“As you have no place to dispute the pronouncement of your lord.” I paused for a heartbeat, and then, “Guard, acquire your price.”
I sat casually, my obligation resolved.
From my periphery, I saw Grey flinch and feared he would intervene. I’d not thought to gauge his response to Ruby’s appearance, as it was, or the risk she was about to take. It was another mistake on my part, and I quietly added it to the list. But Steed caught him in time with a gesture so minute, I was confident no one else saw it. Besides, they were all watching the fire fairy in guard’s garb cross the room to her target.
Wearing a blank expression, Ruby walked coolly through the crowd to stand behind him. On bended knee, he was nearly as tall as she and I was grateful he’d shown at least that respect. She pulled a dagger from her waist and grabbed hold of his braid. The whole of the hall tensed until a swift move sliced the braid and a crop of black hair fell forward around his face. It was incredibly insulting, but far from what the other guests had expected. Without a word, she walked back to her place, a firm grip on the dagger in one hand and braid in the other.
I’d given none cause to dispute the action, and the fact that Ruby hadn’t used fire in her revenge might keep her heritage from topic when the story was repeated. The northern elves tended to enjoy relaying the deed, but didn’t much care to dwell on complicated reasons. Ruby was complicated enough, but I was afraid far too remarkable to not become a target herself.
Another round of wine was served and the crowd eventually settled into the customary din of conversation.
I had decided to give them a bit longer before the display of power when an exchange caught my attention. Dagan of Camber was a little too far in his drink, speaking noisily of “before.” Dagan had clout. He held dominance over many here, and some believed fear of his power had kept the region from going completely lawless in my absence. I wanted no conflict with him, but his words were irritating me unreasonably. I resolved to go ahead with the next step to shut him up. And that was when it all went out the window.
Looking back, it was hard to recall exactly what he said that caused my anger to explode. Something about Chevelle that went right through me. What happened next would likely be repeated through history. I was fairly certain I’d only intended to shatter the cup in front of him, just to get his attention.
Instead, a deafening blast sounded as every cup on every table in the entire hall burst into pieces at once, sending shards of pewter glassware flying to clink against walls, splinter into tables, and generally shower down on everything, excepting myself, which pretty much gave away the source of the flare. The fact that I was staring at Dagan clued everyone who’d not heard his comments in on the cause.
The room fell silent once again and the drip of wine from table and stone seemed amplified by it. Red splattered my guests as if they had attended a massacre and not a feast. The final few who were still taking in the scene came to join the others in their gawking of me.
I realized I was standing, which was slightly disconcerting considering I couldn’t remember doing it. I glanced down to see my own wineglass sat undisturbed, my person and all that surrounded me in an arm’s length radius untouched by the destruction that blanketed the rest of the hall.
There was no question I had instilled fear in them. My task was complete and I didn’t have much taste left for festivities. I leaned down, lifted the glass in salute to my guard, and turned to walk casually from the room.
When I reached the corridor, I allowed myself to breathe again. I walked toward the study, thinking of the faces of my guard, sprayed red and numb with shock. I kept walking, past my chambers, past the commonly used rooms, up the stairs and out the window to my perch on the roof. The wind was cutting, but I stood to face it.
“Tell me that wasn’t your plan,” Chevelle said from behind me.
I choked on a laugh. I’d been standing in the wind so long my eyes watered and my nose and cheeks burned. I turned to look at him, relieved to find him clean and out of uniform. He untied his cloak and stepped up behind me on the small platform. When he reached around to blanket me with the cloak, the warmth felt so good I held his arm to wrap around me. I felt him relax into the embrace and I snuggled my face into the cloak to thaw. I breathed in his scent and then straightened, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“I had a good plan,” I said as we stared out into the night. An agreeable rumble vibrated in his chest. It reminded me of a purring cat and I smiled. “I don’t suppose it matters now.”
“They were convinced,” he assured me.
Chevelle wasn’t like me. He possessed a nearly unshakable calm and considerable patience. After all we’d been through, there was no question he would have taken revenge on Asher. Everyone knew that. What they couldn’t guess was the backlash it would cause. What traps Asher had set for him. If he were to fail, what that would have meant for me. If he were to succeed, what that would have meant for the realm. Chevelle had understood that. He’d kept me from acting rashly, a reckless vengeance that would have likely gotten me killed. I would have retaliated with passion. He could wait.
And he was right. There was a difference between courage and suicide. Honor wasn’t much good to the dead.
“Chevelle?”
“Hmm,” he purred. I shivered. He could think it was from cold.
“How did you know I’d kill Asher?”
He stiffened. “We didn’t.”
I felt my
face contort, but couldn’t decipher what they’d actually planned when we’d confronted him among his guard.
Chevelle sighed. “When we found that he’d set bindings on you, we had to allow him to live.”
They’d made a deal.
“He’d been collecting new powers. He’d learned to create a binding that would not release upon his death.”
Which explained why Chevelle had been studying bindings instead of just hunting the council.
“When council attacked, it set so much more into motion. Francine was to be taken, and you, but Junnie stepped in. She forced their hand with an arrangement no one could refuse by council law. Council bound you both, for their safety, and permitted you to live. Under their watch.”
“I can’t remember,” I said. “Everything else. But not the bindings. Was it long?”
“No, the entire process was very quick. When council descended, Asher set his spell and ran. And then you were gone.” He faltered, then corrected. “In the village.”
I had been gone. And it had seemed a very long time.
“He watched you, to be certain you weren’t fundamentally affected by the castings. Apparently, he saw enough of your old self there to approve. Once council was disposed of, we expected him to release you. He wanted you back as his second, under his control.”
“So, when I stabbed him...”
“Not exactly the plan.”
“Wow.”
A short strangled laugh escaped him, the kind mingled with relief and disbelief. We sat in silence for a few moments, recalling Asher’s last words. The words that would release the bindings. The words that would direct his power to me. If it hadn’t been for some messed-up sense of pride on his part, I’d still be bound. Trapped in my own mind. Or dead.
“There is something you should know, Frey.”
Rise of the Seven Page 4
