The Frey Saga Book VI

by Melissa Wright

  When his gaze met hers, she blinked then patted the new bandages into place. “Leave these on for two moons and try not to get stabbed again by a poison blade.”

  He let her see his distaste for the quip.

  She smirked. “Any news of the spellcasters?”

  “They’ve gone into hiding. I expect them only to regroup when they may strike again.”

  She crossed her slender arms, her flesh still blushed with the color of ripened fruit. He could still smell it filling the room, too, and he had to make his gaze stay on her dark eyes. She didn’t seem to notice. “They’ve no reason to hurry, I suppose. The longer they wait, the more desperate your people become.”

  “My people,” he echoed.

  One of her shoulders shifted in something of a shrug as she uncrossed her arms. “The fey.”

  He narrowed his gaze on her.

  “I have to go. Bargains with the elven court and all that.” Liana gestured teasingly before drawing another vial out of her pouch. “Something for the pain,” she said, glancing pointedly at the full decanter of wine. “This is to be inhaled, and it will not put you to sleep.”

  He took it from her, the glass cool in his hand. Veil inclined his head toward her in thanks, and she smiled in return.

  “I will send word as soon as I’ve any to send,” she said.

  With the promise, she turned and walked from the room. Veil stared after her, holding the vial and smelling the bitter tang of her ministrations. He had trusted his heliotropes only because if one had meant to betray him, the other would have read it from her mind. His false sense of safety had been rooted in the idea that he could not be betrayed by both. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He would not leave himself open to the whim of fate.

  He laid the vial on the table beside the wine then sat up to stretch his arm and test the strength of his connection to the base energy. Veil was a fey lord. Veil could wield power enough to change the seasons.

  He would not be brought down by a changeling and a handful of spellcasting fey.

  3

  Ruby

  Ruby writhed in her dreams, trapped by clawing hands and rivers of darkness. They pulled at her, wanting to drown her. Everything smelled of violet and amaranth, of deep forest spices and oil of myrrh. She knew she was sleeping and understood that those scents meant she’d been put under by the changeling fey. Not the changeling who had tied her to the spellwork, but the other, Liana, who had dragged her from the darkness with the fey lord, Veil.

  Ruby couldn’t think about any of that, though. She could only fight to stay afloat, to keep above that tide of shadows.

  Everything that had happened, all that had befallen her and those she cared about, was her fault. She had to get out and let them know.

  She felt the warmth of Grey’s touch, his hand in hers a constant presence. She was numb to many things, but she could feel the bumps and ridges of his scars, reminders of another fire and of the power she was up against.

  She needed to wake up. She needed to be free of the flames that were not hers.

  She had to escape before they were all out of time.

  4

  Isa

  Isa stared down at the gray body her men had encased in broad leaves and twined within a net. They had dragged it over the border after finding it near fey lands, so it was her problem to deal with.

  She glanced up at Taryn. The problem wasn’t going away. They’d spotted three more bodies, all of which had disappeared into the depths of the fey forest in the last month. It meant someone on fey lands knew what was happening. It meant word would get back. “I’ll send a missive to Junnie,” Isa said. She would have to word it carefully and keep it brief enough to suspend suspicion.

  Isa’s sentries already had to keep back other threats. The humans in her care were highly superstitious and had started crafting legends for the darkness that bordered their lands.

  They didn’t know it was the fey who feared them. They didn’t realize how much danger they were truly in. The fey would sooner see the entirety of the humans dead than face the risk they posed.

  “Make haste,” Isa told Taryn. “Gather a small contingent. We’ll deliver this body to the Lord of the North, and her people can take responsibility.”

  Freya was already tied to the fey lord in bargain, and she had taken on the debt of the humans and the deadening of the base magic. The deaths would be hers to deal with.

  Junnie could attend by her own choice—Isa could give her that option and knew that Junnie would. But Junnie need not be beholden to any fey, let alone their lord, and Isa could manage that much for her.

  5

  Frey

  I sat over a book of legends from the ice lands, a gift from Rhys that had taken him a while to hunt down. I’d lost track of the words on the page hours before, and instead slipped away into thoughts of magic and long-ago spells. I had been taught by a master of those skills, by a being so powerful that none could challenge his rule. He had employed his guard to train me, as well, and between those lessons and what I had learned by watching, I knew enough to hang on to my throne. But Asher had not been overthrown by a single being. He had been taken from power long before his human prize drove a blade into his chest.

  He had been removed by Council and those who opposed him. He had been knocked from his seemingly stable ground by his own daughter. In truth, he’d been defeated by his own actions and his desire for power.

  I closed the cover of the book, tracing a finger over the fine silver lines embossed into darkened leather. Power surrounded me, swimming through me so forcefully that I could barely keep it under control some days. But it was getting easier. I had managed to keep my temper mostly in check, and the constant presence of Chevelle and my Seven had reminded me why it was so important to do so.

  What Asher had spelled inside of me with his dying breath was a dark and dangerous thing. It was mine, no matter how much it felt like it could overwhelm me, and it was tied to the energy I’d been born with as his heir. That didn’t mean I knew how it worked.

  The spellcasting he’d performed then was likely similar to the work he’d attempted on his child Isa, and yet, I could not be sure precisely how he’d done it. I recalled a tale from Ruby of how magic—the energy itself—could potentially be transferred upon ending a life. It had seemed like such a myth at the time, because it had come when I’d been bound and had only the memories of my time with the light elves.

  The light elves did not abide by the darkness that was Asher’s magic, and they’d certainly not wanted me to recall any part of it.

  And because Ruby lay healing, lost somewhere to the fires of Hollow Forest, I could not ask her again about the tale she’d evidently wanted me to know. I could not say how long she’d been aware the fey were coming, how long she’d had ideas of Asher’s plans. I could only wait for her to recover and hope she had answers she was willing to give.

  I sighed and glanced at the figure who’d been shadowing the doorway. “You do not have to watch me every moment. The worst of it is over. The boundaries are almost completed.”

  I could hear the disagreement in my guard’s silence. There was a spellcaster out there, someone who had helped the changeling Pitt and who wanted to break free of the fey lands and the energy that held them there.

  “I read more of the water dragons of Rhys’s and Rider’s homeland,” I told the figure, “and how the creatures came onto land to devour all the energy they could find once the drought had eaten up their own.” The legends of the ice lands were far different than those of the fey. Fey tales were cautionary things, in which someone—or someones—often died in their attempt to reach more power. The legends in my new book, though, were heroic tales of conquering beasts and triumph for the elves.

  They reeked of falsehoods. The fey were prone to exaggeration, but there were far more truths in their legends of death and destruction than in those where all worked toward the greater good. Rhys and Rider had left their hom
e as their own lives were at risk, threatened by a king and the superstition of their people. The wolves had brought the brothers to us to aid in our dilemma, and I had been grateful for it for as long as I had known them.

  How or why the wolves had traveled all the way to the ice lands, though, remained to be seen.

  “It would be nice to find the connection,” I muttered, tossing aside another scroll.

  “And what if none of it is connected?” Steed asked quietly.

  “Have you been told to leave me be?” I asked. “To lurk in the shadows?”

  He laughed, leaning against the doorway on an elbow. “Only to give you your space.”

  I scoffed. “As much space as is between the door and this desk, it seems.”

  Steed inclined his head, strolling into the room to take a seat opposite me. “As long as I need not give you enough space to run into trouble.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Indeed.” He shrugged. It wasn’t his decision, after all.

  I narrowed my gaze on him. “That aside, I’m surprised you of all people would suggest there’s no connection.”

  Steed leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees. “Oh, I’m sure there are at least a few connections. A web of them, no doubt. But maybe not all of it is connected.” He rolled a thumb over the knuckle of his first finger, not quite making a fist. “There are pieces missing, obviously. Pieces are gone, or the fey wouldn’t need us.” He waved toward me. “You, anyway.”

  Ruby and me. The halflings. Spelled into life. “I sometimes wonder what this will cost us,” I said, “and what all this will mean for the lot of us.”

  His expression was level as he looked back at me. “Whatever the cost, these deeds would have been done with or without us.” His words said something deeper than just that. They held the tone of loyalty, as if Steed, too, felt I was worthy of my post, as if he’d rather it was me there than anyone else.

  I drew a deep breath. I wished I had his confidence. “So where do we look for those missing pieces?”

  He tapped the thumb against a knuckle. “And what of those dragons, the ones who subsist on an energy beneath the land?”

  I leaned toward him, intrigued.

  “Were there not dragons in the fey lands? Not so long ago…” Steed said.

  I didn’t see the connection he was trying to make. “They didn’t leave because of the base energy. They were driven away by the fey, during the chaos of the war.”

  Steed lifted one brow, his gaze steady.

  “You think the fey chased them off to secure more power? Because…” I shook my head. “No, they’d only feed the base energy if they were killed. If that many dragons left, they would take their energy along. It would never be returned to the source.”

  “And they would never again feed from the source. It would be an even trade.”

  I sat back in my chair, unconvinced. “I’ve never heard even an inkling of this tale.”

  Steed smiled. “Have you listened to none of my sister’s stories? The fey only make legends of the tales they want told. Should a prize warrant it, they can keep their deeds a secret as long as any of the rest of us.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He chuckled. “Well, longer than their reputations for it, at least.”

  I tried to think of the last time I’d seen a dragon. When I was a child, maybe I saw the shadow of one far over the eastern plains. “Where are they now, then, if they cannot draw from the base energy—if that is even how the dragons live?”

  “I used to hear word about them on my trades. The imps were terrified of the creatures and were constantly warning each other off any direction where one might have been seen. But I’m not certain they would need to gather that energy as often as the fey. They certainly aren’t using it up as swiftly.”

  I pressed my lips together, thinking of Liana and the way she seemed to need access far less than the normal fey. I blew out a breath. “This isn’t really clearing up the way all of it connects for me.”

  Steed smiled. “Oh, it was never meant to. I was only giving you a break.” He glanced at the doorway then stood, turning his head to give me a hidden wink as he made his way past the desk. “She’s all yours,” he called over his shoulder.

  I swallowed a snort of laughter, giving Chevelle a moment to clear the irritation off his face before I turned to him. “And how fares the business of the castle?” I asked.

  He gave me a level look.

  “That good?”

  “The rogues have been restless. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He shifted his weight.

  I frowned at him. “Don’t make me order you to take rest.”

  He frowned back at me. He had to know I would.

  “What’s left?” I asked. “I’ll take some of the burden from you.”

  Chevelle shook his head. “It’s under control.”

  I slid my chair back to stand. “Fine. Then I’ll be in our rooms, waiting on you.” I gave him a honeyed smile as he appeared to bite back what was probably a warning that I should be watched.

  As I walked down the cool stone corridor to our rooms, I thought of what Steed had said about the dragons. I’d never considered that the fey could have driven them from their lands for any reason other than the reserve of power. There were still a few about, but not near the castle, and certainly not near anything fey. I pushed open the heavy plank door to the room, annoyed at the tingle of spellcasting that lingered against my palm despite my having warned Chevelle to leave it be. My guard would protect me. The barriers would hold. I did not need that darkness so near where we slept.

  I sighed, closing the door behind me and dropping my sword belt onto the long table against the wall. With a thought, I flared the candles in the room to life, and I had to focus to steady the magic to an even flow. I tossed down my knives and loosened the straps of my leather chest plate, decorative armor fit more for the formality of a lord’s duty than for battle. I crossed toward the bed, intending to stretch out and close my eyes to find my birds, but a whisper of sound—the scratch of leather on stone—cut me short.

  It was the sound of a boot sole sliding across the floor.

  I spun, palms thrown forward to make my attack, and found the form of a golden idol, the fey lord. I did not drop my hands. “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  He remained leaning casually against the wall of my room, one leg crossed over the other as he examined a small carved gem. I recognized it as a brooch from my own box of jewels. He tossed it aside. It landed near a dish on a side table, beside a goblet, from which he’d apparently been drinking our wine. Several other gems lay scattered over the table, but one was noticeably missing. “I’m here to remind you of our bargain,” he said smoothly.

  My palms itched to strike him, but I held the power still.

  His eyes bored into mine. “Did you think I would not have received word of your fey barriers? That you were trying to keep me out?”

  “I care not about your gossip and even less about your rules. This is the second time you’ve broken into my personal rooms, and I have no intention of letting it pass.”

  The tilt to the corner of his mouth said I was mistaken about it only being the second time, and my stomach dipped at the idea. He straightened, uncrossing his ankles to stand tall, wings tucked neatly against his back. Veil towered over me, but I was not afraid of him, not on our own soil.

  “We have an agreement.” His voice was low, a warning that ignored my own threat. “Your vow is sealed, and your promise is mine.” His amber eyes were warm despite the shadows crossing the room. In them was a promise of his own. “Whatever it takes.”

  The words sent a chill over my skin. It wasn’t fear. It was the trade, a bargain made and sworn. I’d agreed to help him stop the darkness poisoning his lands, whatever it took. There was no backing out. I glared at Veil. “My vow does not excuse you from the rule of law. And no matter our agreement, I will strike you down, should you ever step foot inside my rooms again
.”

  He moved closer, training his gaze on mine. “And here I was, hoping you’d be amenable to a discussion.”

  “We will meet on neutral ground. Send a messenger, and my guard and I will treat with you at the border.”

  “Your guard,” he hissed, “was not part of the bargain. You, dear Freya, are my prize.”

  Fire licked at my fingertips, wanting to tear free of me and burn him to the ground. “I am no one’s prize.”

  His brow shifted, but he did not speak the thoughts that seemed to cross his mind. He drew a long-suffering sigh. “I no more want to be here than you desire me to be. But it seems you’ve forgotten the stakes.”

  “I am well aware.”

  He glanced at the window, shifting casually, as if he was not purposefully moving nearer to the heat of my outthrust palms. “Asher betrayed his vow, broke the terms of his bargain with the fey.”

  I let my glare remind him I was not Asher. Asher was dead.

  He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder, eying the drapes drawn back at the head of the bed. His gaze shot back to mine. “I will not be betrayed.”

  His promise seemed to include “again,” and I bit back my words. I would not argue my honor with a plaguing fey.

  “Your word is binding, and as fey lord, should I be stricken down, as you so callously put it, your bargain will still be binding to my people and to whomever takes my place.”