There were only Isa and me to do that. “If we are gone, it will be the end of all fey.”
4
Thea
Thea had mostly kept her promise in the weeks following the night she’d embraced the knowledge that she’d made the right decision and accepted this corridor-filled castle as her home. Her superior had tested her more than once, but Thea was trying, and she found that she could tolerate a lot more of the man’s ignorance than she’d believed possible.
Barris had helped. He and the other guards under the same lead didn’t want the man’s wrath any more than she, so Thea didn’t feel bad about accepting the support when she did get stuck with extra tasks. She’d worked hard, she’d completed her duties, and she’d stayed away from the horses. Mostly.
More than anything else, she’d accepted that her life in the castle would not be that of her imaginings. It was something different but no less satisfying, and she would have to work her way up the chain like everyone else. Thea hoped she would someday be allowed to toil in the stable and maybe even eventually oversee the horses’ care. But for the time being, she was content to train, to polish armor, and to mess each night with the members of her guard, which was why she stood slack-jawed when Edan called her to meet with one of the Seven.
“Thea,” Edan repeated.
She shook herself, dropping the mace she’d been about to train with. It came perilously close to landing on the side of her foot. Barris laughed. She glanced at him sidelong, and he brushed his mouth with a gloved fist, wiping the smile from his face.
She looked back at Edan. “Yes, of course.”
He nodded and turned without another word, and Thea stared at his back for a moment before Barris gestured her to follow. Right, she mouthed, still shocked.
The heat of the battle with the fey had worn off, and Thea’s ambition to be a warrior had come to a stuttering halt once she’d had a few weapons lessons. She was out of her league. She wasn’t ready. And as she followed Edan through a maze of corridors packed with castle staff going about their daily duties, she wondered briefly if it was another of those messes she tended to get herself into. As they traversed the first set of stairs, her stomach tightened, and her palms went slick at the second.
It was bad. It was one of their private corridors. It was the level that housed the high guard and the lord of the castle. Thea had never been there, but she’d known—everyone had. To enter those halls without approval could mean a swift death. Of course, she’d thought before, because how else would they know who meant Freya harm? But now, as her boots trod lightly over dark polished stone, Thea wasn’t certain about anything.
Edan stopped at a carved stone doorway, tilting his head to shepherd her in.
She froze. Edan watched her. Coward, she thought, the hiss of anger moving her feet. She gave Edan a quick nod on her way through and strolled into a room the likes of which she’d never seen.
The castle floors below were grand and imposing, but the rooms were mostly utilitarian. She’d seen the banquet hall and the library—rooms meant to impress—but this was different. There were rich tapestries sewn to a skill that surpassed even Cora’s. There were carved wood surfaces and ancient swords. Every inch of the space spoke of the ancients who’d ruled before and of legends. She wondered what she had expected. She was in the house of an elven lord.
“Thea,” a voice snapped.
Thea’s eyes were stolen from the grandeur by the impatient gestures of a familiar face. “Ruby,” she said, breathing deeply.
“Yes,” Ruby told her. “Of course.” She flicked her fingers then slapped a hand on the long table she leaned against. “Come, see what I have for you.”
Before the fey conflict, Thea hadn’t seen Ruby in ages. She’d known her growing up, of course, but Ruby had not been one to find and keep friends. She’d kept to herself for long stretches of time and then would suddenly be there, the impetus of the party, weaving tales and pouring wine. Ruby had always had a wide-ranging network of traders and associates—she was no timid girl. But she chose who and when, and Thea had been more of a consistent acquaintance to Steed than to his sister. The current Ruby was not the Ruby she remembered.
Thea had known a wild-haired waif of a girl whose skin was covered in painted ivies, with pouches of tonics hanging over a tattered skirt. She’d worn bangles and eye tint and had twirled like her spirit could not be controlled. She’d been a feral, fire-throwing, untamable thing.
But Ruby had been tamed. Her bright curls were drawn into tight braids, the slant of her ears on full display. She was slim in black leather with no adornments or jewels, no ribbons or lace. Her boots were flat, her fingers clean. She gestured to the parchment before her, a register written in her own hand. “This,” she said. “Your list.”
“My…” Thea stared down at Ruby. Ruby must have been confused, mistaken Thea for someone else. She did have a bit of a haggard look about her, something that spoke of lack of rest and too much work. Thea wondered if Ruby was well. She wondered if she was even allowed to ask her that. The strange new rules of Thea’s position had tripped her up so many times that she could never be sure. She’d tightened her quick tongue, second-guessing every response.
Ruby nodded as if she’d not just lost her audience to the confusion. “Yes, your list.” She straightened, touching a quill to her lips. She tapped it three times, apparently considering. “How good are you at climbing?”
“What?”
Ruby shook her head and scribbled something at the bottom of the list. “No matter. I’ll find someone who is.” She tossed the quill aside, rolling the parchment into a tidy scroll. “I’m afraid the windswheel is out of season, but seedlings will be fine. And I’m sure you know where to find the best yellowroot, and there’s a stream that runs by Falcon Lake…”
“You want me to collect yellowroot?”
Ruby looked up, her expression harried.
“She wants to send you on a fool’s errand,” Steed said from behind them. “And I am that fool.”
Thea turned, and Ruby said, “You’ll go along with Steed. He’s off to see Junnie and her new Council. While he’s tending to business, you’ll collect supplies and herbs from the gardens there so I can replenish my medicine stock. I’ve already sent word ahead of you.” She tied a thin ribbon around the rolled document. “On your route, you can pick up the things from this list.” She held the parchment up for Thea.
“But I—”
Ruby pushed the scroll into her hands. “You’ve been a healer for a long time, and you know the flora. Steed cannot do this for me, and we need it desperately. If I’d had it before—” She shook her head, but she’d not needed to say. Thea knew she was speaking of Grey. By all accounts, his wounds had healed, just not as well or as quickly as anyone would have liked. Fey fire could do that to a person. Ruby sent Steed a purposeful glare. “I’d do it myself, but they won’t let me leave.”
“You know why,” he told her.
“Right,” she chirped back, crossing her arms. “Which is why I’ve solved the problem for you.” She smiled at Thea. “Do have fun, but remember I need these quickly.”
Thea’s fingers tightened around the rolled parchment, her gaze floating between Ruby and Steed. “Am I stepping into the middle of a family quarrel?”
Ruby hopped on to the massive table, crossing leg over knee. “It doesn’t matter. You are of the guard now, so you do what they say.”
Ruby smiled, but Thea could see there was truth behind it, though she didn’t know how sending her along would solve Ruby’s problem. Surely, the roots and leaves were not the intent.
“I will urge you one final time to reconsider,” Steed told Ruby. His tone was amicable enough, but Ruby didn’t budge.
“Off with you both,” she answered, flipping her hands toward the door. “I have much to do.”
Bewildered, Thea turned to go. Ruby called her name, and Thea glanced over her shoulder, seeing the two side by side. They no more appear
ed to be siblings than she and Cora.
Ruby’s tone suddenly softened. “It was good to see you, Thea. Safe travels.”
Thea nodded, her gaze falling on Steed.
“Go on ahead,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest in the same stubborn manner his much-smaller sister. “I’ll meet you in the stables as soon as I’ve finished up here.”
5
Frey
Ruby’s obsession with healing Grey and, I suspected, a few ideas that might get her into trouble were heavily cutting into her time at my side. She’d managed to resolve her castle duties but not with the attention to detail she’d shown before. Grey had been healing, and though his wounds no longer caused him significant pain, we’d all been allowing Ruby leeway while she dealt with the aftermath of her guilt. Besides, the more she focused on Grey, the less chance she had to attempt to leave the castle on her own.
The remainder of my guard were healing well, thanks in no small part to the changeling Liana’s help. Before she’d departed, she’d left supplies and instructions to aid each of them. No one had been foolish enough to believe it was out of the goodness of her heart, but she’d been well paid in trade, and we’d needed the help, even if she was only working to repair them for her own gain later. Anvil had been making the rounds in Camber with a small band of sentries, Rhys and Rider were researching ancient magics and possible solutions to our current problems, and my Second had been running the castle. That left me to answer to the clan leaders and conflicts, while only Steed was free to parley with Junnie so we might be able to keep tabs on the girl, Isa, and the humans in her care.
I tapped a finger against the carved arm of my throne. There had been whispers from the rogues that I should have let the humans come, let them destroy the base magic, and let the fey deal with their own troubles. And there had been word among a few in Camber that I’d handled the fey bargain poorly and that the way I’d dealt with Veil had been unbecoming for a lord.
I didn’t appreciate the comparison, given how the previous lord had handled fey, but I was trying to take their opinions into consideration for how I would move forward. The rogues were wrong—the humans would not be merely a fey problem. Once their lands were dry of that power, the fey would do whatever it took to seek out more. The fact that we’d been in that situation at all should have been proof enough. And maybe I hadn’t handled the bargain with Veil with enough tact, but he’d tricked us into being under his thumb. He’d known the others would come for Ruby and that I would have to answer their attack. He’d let it play out to benefit himself and his kingdom.
I stared out at the waiting faces of my audience. Whatever Veil thought of the bargain we’d made, what was done was done. I had no cause to go back on my word, and as long as Isa could handle the humans, I would be able to stay at my post, protecting and ruling the North.
As such, I’d been unable to travel to the outer lands to see her progress. My guard was scattered and healing, the fey had not yet settled, and the only way through was with the guarantee of safe passage by the high fey lord himself, something I had no interest in attempting any time soon.
Junnie had left soldiers and sent occasional watchmen and would soon be journeying there herself. Isa had not been alone in her new task. But I trusted only Junnie outside of my own guard, and she’d had more than her share of work building a new Council to govern her lands and keep her own people in check. Isa being away had eased some of the dissent Junnie was facing among her new Council. They’d not wanted the girl to die because of their reverence for her connection with beasts, but they’d certainly not wanted a creature who was half human and half dark elf at their Council head’s right hand.
Steed had been trading throughout the lands since he was young, and he could get along with—or at least bargain with—nearly anyone. But there was another reason he’d been my choice to meet with Junnie. Easygoing as he seemed, he had a surprising intuition about those who were not. He’d realized things about Junnie and had spoken his concern more than once. He’d had things to say about her gift, which seemed to favor canines in the way mine favored birds, and things about Isa, namely that she did not appear to have an affinity for either. I would not have called him a spy by any means, but it was nice to have someone along who noticed people’s tells and recognized their motives, especially when I was bound to the obligations of my throne.
“Dagan of Camber,” Kieran announced, calling forward the next name on his list. I inclined my head toward Dagan in acknowledgment of his station and my respect for it. The throne room was enormous, with high arched ceilings and a long open space, and Kieran’s voice echoed despite the walls being wreathed in burgundy and velvet. Intricate stone constructs bore torches, their flickering light throwing moving shadows throughout the room.
I sat near the back wall, my throne on a raised platform overlooking it all.
Dagan did not bow. He simply stated his grievance and how he expected it to be resolved.
“Done,” I said, gesturing for Kieran to see that it was. Dagan was no fool—he knew what to expect under our laws and had only asked for as much. But he didn’t favor me, and I had no interest in furthering that discontent with someone who held clout within Camber. “Anvil reports that the rebuilding is going well,” I offered. “Please let us know if there is any way the people of Camber can be additionally assisted.”
“Aye,” Dagan said, inclining his head. “All is well. It is not the worst we have seen.”
“Nonetheless,” I said, biting back whatever else I might have said at the reminder of the massacre from long ago.
Dagan turned to go, and at my left, Kieran called the next clan leader—a rogue, from the looks of it. My day consisted of constant managing of life and order.
Ruby slipped into place beside me. “It comes with the uniform,” she said. “The guard has never claimed one who was merely a fighter. If you want to choose the dead, you have to manage the living. It keeps us from turning murderous.”
I smiled at her words, the sentiment one I’d shared with her after I’d been restored to the throne and she was learning what it meant to be one of my Seven. “Mostly not murderous,” I amended.
She stared across the throne room, and I knew she’d not taken it as jest. Ruby had intentions that would not end well for at least one of the parties involved.
My guard looked less and less fey each day she stood as part of my rule. Her face was still angled and her ears sharp, but Ruby was not one of them. It didn’t stop her from thinking of it, though, or from researching. Ruby was constantly trying to understand the fey, but they didn’t think linearly. It was impossible to know what each desired until they found a pinnacle and became obsessed to the point that their obsession showed. Then there were those who excelled at deceit and trickery. It was not something she could learn or control.
But I glanced at her speculatively, because Ruby had foreseen much more than any of us had known. She’d laid into place what she thought she needed to defeat plans the rest of us were entirely unaware of, and I was grateful for it.
“I hope you do not intend to act on whatever is boiling beneath your surface,” I told her.
She met my eyes evenly. “I would never endanger my home.”
It was not precisely a denial, but at least she was firm in her allegiance—that the castle and its people were her home in a way Ruby had never truly had before. I glanced at Kieran, and he called the next in line.
When we’d finally exhausted the list, I turned to Ruby again. “Are you up for working out some aggression?” She eyed me questioningly, and I explained, “Chevelle would like us to meet him in the training room to check on a few new recruits.”
Her brow quirked at the possibility, and then Ruby straightened her whip to lead us from the room.
6
Thea
Thea stood just inside the stable entrance, a neatly rolled cloak in hand. She’d tucked the scroll into a hidden inside pocket along with a charcoal nub for m
arking off the items Ruby had requested as they were collected. She’d worn her guard-issued clothes and two short knives, and a pair of canteens was strapped over her shoulder. She felt bare holding nothing aside from that cloak, and she wondered what else she was forgetting to bring. She made her way to the tack room, a neatly arranged collection of riding gear in leather and metal that would be no help at all. Walking farther down the aisle, she glanced into the feed stores, deciding that the woven sacks might be helpful in her collection. Steed would have thought of that, surely. But what if we found something that needed separating from the other supplies? Ruby’s list had certainly contained items that should not be stored in close contact with one another—or with anyone’s person, really.
Thea folded the sacks and tucked them into her cloak. At the end of the aisle, she found an empty bench inside one of the shadowed stalls. She sat, making herself comfortable while she waited for Steed to arrive.
It took longer than she expected.
Thea woke, not realizing that she’d fallen asleep. In the quiet warmth, she’d drifted off, the roll of her cloak behind her head. Something had shifted in the darkness and caused her to jolt awake, a tingling sensation in her arms and hands her only clue she’d drifted into slumber. She wiped a thin line of drool off her cheek.
“Sorry,” she said with a cough, sitting upright to blink at Steed. “I just—I was just waiting on you here.”
He leaned forward from the shadows to take her erstwhile pillow, and Thea saw the twitch of his lip. “You’ve got hay in your hair.”
The Frey Saga Book V Page 3