Rise of the Seven

by Melissa Wright

  His mother. The blue of her eyes a message to me. The same depthless sapphire as Chevelle’s.

  Chevelle had returned these items to me. Though they meant little now, they had once been precious. I’d no doubt they had been a trial to recover. I didn’t know if I had the courage to read his note, but my hand moved numbly toward it.

  I took a deep breath and opened the fold.

  “My love.”

  Well, shit.

  It changed everything. Chevelle knew me. He’d given me all that he could and left me to decide.

  My head fell and I put the note in the box, closed the lid, and slid it in the hiding spot beneath the third stone under the floor of my bed. I walked out of the room without looking back, turned down the corridor, and ran.

  Six doors, two stairways, and a window later, I was scaling the last ten feet to a roof of the castle. I’d stolen a cloak on my way and when I reached the top, the wind caught and flipped it behind me. My hair whipped my face as I made my way across to perch on the only point that was blocked from wind by the tower but still allowed a full view of the mountain below and sky ahead. I wrapped the cloak tightly around me and felt settled for the first time in days.

  It was silent for two hours, and then the quick, light padding of paws approached. Keaton and Finn.

  They settled in beside me, quiet and still. Their silvery fur caught the moonlight in an ethereal glow.

  “I can’t leave him,” I said.

  The wolves did not respond.

  “I may not be able to be with him, but I cannot leave.”

  Chapter Three

  Meeting

  I woke on the perch as the sun broke the clouds. My first thoughts were curses; I should have met Chevelle at dawn. I hurried down, running until I reached the corridor and saw the servants. I didn’t recognize them, but that was no surprise considering so many of them had to be removed after they’d been found out as Asher’s spies. The castle was fully staffed now and each of them, properly uniformed and mannered, prepared for the banquet. Chevelle had been busy. Remembering my own station, I straightened my shoulders and slowed my pace.

  When I reached the practice room, I thought he’d given up on me. I walked into the empty space for the first time since I’d regained myself fully. It held an echo of memory, emotion. I walked further, glancing up to see the morning sun stream in the filigreed windows, catching dust motes in its rays. I sighed, thinking of how it must have looked to him when I hadn’t shown up after the gift he’d left me. And then I saw him.

  He stood in the shadows, watching me. When he knew I’d found him, he stepped forward. He’d been on the ledge, probably watching out a window while he waited. He stopped for a moment, the sun at his back throwing his features into further shade, and I had a flash of nervousness. I didn’t know if I could pull this off.

  I straightened. “I fell asleep.”

  I thought I saw the corner of his mouth pull up, but couldn’t be positive. He jumped down and crossed to me.

  “Good,” he said, “you’ll need your rest.”

  Sleep was once a sore subject with me. I required about twice as much as the others and I used to fight it, trying to keep up with them. Chevelle knew that, he’d seen what I’d done to myself.

  I’d been different in so many ways, and he knew them all. Things didn’t work the same with me, I wasn’t born with the natural instincts for magic. I’d always had to work at it, find the power and force the control. But I had overcome it. And now, I had a new problem.

  “So,” I started, “practice.”

  “Show me what you’ve got,” he answered.

  I really didn’t want to do this, but I closed my eyes, centered my breathing, and released. The stones beneath our feet started to vibrate and shift, the walls shook, the iron in the window let loose an ear-piercing metallic creak. Tiny sprinkles of rock fell onto my face and I stopped, sealing the stones back in place before opening my eyes once more.

  He looked dubious.

  “Yep,” I said. “And that’s not even angry.”

  “You’ve been angry?” he asked.

  My face twisted cynically. “Ruby’s been here.”

  It was clearly a joke, but he didn’t laugh. Not even a little. And then I smiled as I realized how much he’d been forced to deal with her antics while I’d been bound. I wondered what all she’d put him through.

  “You chose her,” I reminded him.

  “I used to think so,” he said.

  I chuckled. “Things do tend to have a way of working out for her.”

  “Cursed fairies,” he grumbled.

  “Cursed fairies,” I agreed.

  “Do you have a plan for demonstration?” he asked, clearly determined to change the subject.

  “I think I’ll wing it.”

  “Brilliant.”

  We were silent for a moment. Finally, he asked, “Fire?”

  “All right,” I answered with little confidence.

  He stepped beside me so we were both facing the long, empty space and used his magic to chuck a rock from the box in the corner. As it flew across the room, I raised my arm and pointed at it in an attempt to focus solely on striking it with a fireball. Not one flame lit but the rock exploded.

  “What was that?” Chevelle asked.

  I shrugged. “Did I mention sometimes it doesn’t work properly?”

  He nodded, expressionless. “This time, try to shatter the stone.”

  Another rock launched from the box, flying straight into the expanse. I focused on splitting it and it burst into dust. I looked to Chevelle.

  He tore a small piece of fabric from the hem of his shirt and held it before me. “Burn this.” I started to glance down, but the first finger of his other hand stopped me. “Not my palm.”

  Right.

  I concentrated on the fabric for a moment before the idea of burning his palm recalled one of those odd, not quite me memories. The lines of a map burnt into my palms. An old trick we’d used on Fannie. Ass, I thought, for one fraction of a second, before I realized I’d gotten angry.

  I gasped at Chevelle’s intake of breath and raised my hands in a helpless gesture as the flames died down.

  “I see what you mean,” Chevelle said through clenched teeth.

  “Ah, I’m sorry. I just... I got irritated for a second.”

  He eyed me questioningly and I glanced at the seared flesh of his hand. I might have still been irritated. At my expression, understanding came over his face.

  “Let’s just call it even,” I suggested.

  “Aye.”

  “And,” I continued, “in case you’ve forgotten, we are in agreement that you’ll not use spells near me unless absolutely necessary.”

  He stared me straight in the eye. “We are even from here.”

  My jaw rolled involuntarily. Come to think of it, there’d been a lot of catching up on his end while I’d been bound. “Fine,” I answered, taking a step toward him.

  We stared at each other for one long moment and then the unburned hand clenched into a fist. When I’d been bound, I had thought him constantly angry with me. But I knew him again, and I understood this was a different kind of restraint. He wouldn’t touch me, he’d let me decide.

  When I didn’t respond, he stepped back. “The others will be waiting.”

  With a promise to continue practice in the morning, we made our way to Anvil’s study. Asher had always met with his guard in the throne room, keeping it a formal matter, but I didn’t care for the echo of the high ceilings or sitting elevated among those who protected me. And it wasn’t as if Anvil ever used his library.

  It was a small room compared to the other meeting places in the castle. A long oval table was centered at one end, a few plush chairs sat at the other. High windows cast odd shadows in the corners, but the natural light seemed to feature the flat of the table. Scattered about the room were my guard.

  They came together then, each taking their place around the oval, Che
velle at my right. It was then, as I stood before them, that I realized this was my first meeting of the guard as Elfreda, Lord of the North. I resisted the urge to run a hand over my face. This was something I had never wanted. I forced myself to stand tall and met the eyes of each of the seven before me. The seven who would enforce my rule, the seven who would give their lives to defend me.

  I spoke their names as my gaze connected with each, a tradition that outdated this castle. “Chevelle Vattier.” He was no stranger to the formalities and he stood at his post with confidence. I could almost see the promise in his eyes.

  Grey waited to Chevelle’s right. I was lucky to have him. “Grey of Camber.” He gave a small nod in answer.

  My eyes followed to Rhys and Rider. I knew little of them, but as I spoke their names they pledged themselves as well.

  “Steed Summit.” Steed had gotten involved by chance, or so Ruby would have us believe. But he had proven himself.

  “Ruby Summit.” I nearly smiled at the heat radiating from her. I would never know if it was pride at her new station or the idea of all the trouble she could get into here, in the thick of things.

  “Reed of Keithar Peak.” Anvil inclined his head, shoulders straight. He, like Chevelle, understood his place at this table and held above all else his duty.

  I took a slow, steadying breath and then began as if this were not a monstrous undertaking. “Chevelle tells me he and Steed were successful. However, it seems we have some convincing left to do.” I stopped. Only two of my guard were familiar with castle politics. I had a feeling Ruby would fit right in, but she presented a whole new problem. We were going to have to play this out as Asher would have, and that left a bitter taste in my mouth. “Chevelle has suggested a banquet.” Anvil nodded. The rest of the table sat silent. “A show of power,” I explained.

  I deferred to Chevelle then, who outlined the details and responsibilities of each of them. Who should watch which clan leader, who should cover which areas, which signals meant what or who. Everyone had something to imply or a task to do, everyone had their role. Except Ruby.

  When Chevelle finished, he glanced at me, a question in his eyes. I nodded grimly, giving him permission.

  “Frey has an issue with control.” A snigger escaped from Ruby’s side of the table but my glare cut it short. Chevelle continued. “We will meet each morning to assist in her recovery.”

  “Why do we not simply cast–” Anvil’s words were cut short as an intensified version of the glare narrowed on him.

  “Again,” I stated as clear and loud as possible without leaving the range of civil, “there will be no use of spells on or near me without absolute necessity.”

  Steed raised his hand. It wouldn’t have been funny if I hadn’t spent time in the village, but I had, and it was a struggle not to laugh. Ruby smacked him.

  “If you are planning to inquire as to why, don’t,” I warned.

  He nodded.

  So far, this was nothing like Asher’s meeting of the guards.

  I moved on. “The banquet is settled. Is there any news to table?”

  Grey spoke up. “There is word of the new council. Whispers of Juniper’s plans have flooded Camber.”

  “We have heard such as well,” Rider put in. “It is said she has gathered a following, not only among the villagers, but some of the rogue southern clans.”

  “There is no evidence,” I said.

  “You’ve seen her cloak,” Anvil said in a decidedly non-confrontational tone.

  “She is no longer of Grand Council, what else would she wear?”

  They were silent for a moment. I couldn’t help but defend her. Junnie was all the family I had left. She’d given up leadership in Grand Council to protect me, stayed near me in the village. Sure, she had disagreed with what they were doing. They had killed my mother when, by right, she was owed their protection. Junnie took umbrage with their attack on the North, she had suspicions about their plans, but she’d given up everything. Besides, the villages and forests were none of my business. I wasn’t Asher.

  I dismissed the subject and the meeting, with a reminder of practice at dawn. As the others left the room, Ruby stopped to examine a book on the wall shelves. I sat at the head of the table, thinking of all to come. My showing at the banquet would have to be severe. Not only did my mere existence as a half-human cause issue, but now rumors of a new council were running rampant. A stronger council to replace that which nearly destroyed the North. Even I had seen Junnie’s sigil. I could not deny the possibility. I would have to assert my rule without doubt tomorrow, despite my differences.

  I felt the corner of my mouth pull up.

  “Ruby,” I asked, “how would you like to start some trouble?”

  Chapter Four

  Practice

  We met in the largest practice room. The sight of the others there reminded me so much of the group practice session when I’d been bound, I had to laugh. I had been so certain then that one wrong move could have destroyed me. But that wasn’t the way of it.

  Chevelle had chosen these men. I understood now that he’d trusted them all with my life. He’d had to, when an errant thought or moment of temper could cost you your sparring partner. I knew they could not hurt me now, but I had not realized then that their magic would never have actually touched me in more than the annoyingly painful way they had used it to teach me.

  I tried to keep in mind they’d been doing it to protect me.

  “Me first,” came from Ruby right away. Apparently, my promise of trouble for this evening had not sated her.

  I smiled. “Ready when you are.”

  I could feel a tingle running up my back and knew she’d attempted a sneak attack. I squelched her flame but raised my hands to the side and ran my own flame down my arms to light in my palms, as if I’d stolen hers. If she wanted to play dirty, I had my own bag of tricks. The floor lit behind her as she readied her next attack. I flung my outstretched arms forward and released the fire. Ruby didn’t even flinch. Until it turned to icy blue mist that showered against her.

  She cursed and pulled the whip from her side. Oh yes, I thought, I do owe her.

  The tongue lit as it curled around and she began to rock, priming herself for another attempt. She cracked the whip at the right side of my face, missing it by a hair’s breadth, while simultaneously throwing a fireball at my left thigh from the side. A burst of white stopped the flame from touching me and another headed toward her stomach. She leapt quickly out of the way and then set the room ablaze.

  Flames surrounded us, engulfing our section of the practice room. It was impressive.

  I had planned to smother the fire, but something went wrong and the floor beneath Ruby fell. She caught herself and the conflagration immediately died.

  “Not okay, Frey,” Ruby chided.

  I stepped forward to help her. “It wasn’t my intention.”

  When she was on her feet, we stared into the hole in the floor.

  “Where are the stones?” Ruby asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Are you sure this is safe?” Grey asked.

  No one laughed.

  When I looked up, I caught the concern in Chevelle’s eyes. “Maybe I’ll just practice on my own from now on,” I suggested.

  Rhys spoke up. “I believe it will be safest if we assist you.”

  All eyes fell on the two tall, slender elves.

  Rider explained. “Though we are not twins, we are brothers and share a connection. We have the ability to combine our powers.”

  Stunned silence followed. Finally, Steed spoke up. “How does that work?”

  “Usually, only one of us has control. Clearly, we cannot both command it. We essentially borrow the other’s power while directing our own,” Rhys explained.

  A quick glance at Chevelle confirmed he had not been aware of their rare talent. Certainly the wolves had been.

  “Is it possible then,” Grey asked, “that the same technique could be used to di
rect Frey’s power?”

  “You mean to displace it?” Ruby asked.

  “No, I was thinking of it not being entirely of her and therefore it could possibly be split from her own. But displacement may be a better option.”

  “Would I be able to do that?” I asked Rider. “Can you send one another your power, or would I have to allow someone to borrow from me?”

  “It is impossible to guess.” Rider contemplated the idea for a moment. “When we borrow, it is with a shared will. I am unsure whether it can be done otherwise, without that connection.”

  I thought again of the wolves. This was no coincidence.

  Rhys spoke up. “There is a danger in trying without the connection.” No one wanted to ask how he knew, but he could see our interest. “We discovered the link as children, quite by accident. I was under attack and would undoubtedly fall. My assailant was toying with me, enjoying the torment as he forced my brother to watch.”

  My stomach turned as his words recalled the memory of Chevelle’s prone form writhing in agony.

  “As I lay on the floor, listening to Rider’s shouts of protest over the sound of my own terrified screams, all I could think was that if I were as strong as him, if I had his power, I would crush this black demon standing over me. And he could think of nothing but saving me, giving me his own life in order to keep me alive, to defeat the elves attacking us.”

  Anvil was generally not the meddlesome type, so his question surprised me. “Why were you attacked?”

  Rider nodded. “It was some time before we understood that ourselves. At that point, we were very young, too inexperienced to grasp the extent of the situation. We were unaware that the entire kingdom was fearful of us. Some spoke of prophecy, others dared not speak of us at all. The pair of us were blamed for each calamity that came upon the realm, each misfortune of the king, though we were merely boys. The mob that came for us had no definable reason behind their actions but fear and superstition. And possibly clandestine orders from their ruler.”