My stomach dropped.
“There are a few things you need to remember when using a blade,” she instructed. “First of all, always go for the fatal attack. If you merely wound someone, well, someone with magic will use the last of their power to stop you. Cut off their head or puncture the lung and heart. Never mess around.”
I imagined myself decapitating someone. I laughed as I realized my mind placed Fannie there.
Ruby didn’t look like she could think of anything funny about what she’d said, but she continued. “Secondly, don’t cut yourself. These things are sharp.”
She moved to toss the sword to me but reconsidered and handed it over, making sure I had a good grip. There were intricate designs carved on the handle and runes etched in the blade. It wasn’t as heavy as it appeared. I moved it around a bit, slashing wide arcs though the chill air. It was pleasant, nicely balanced in my hand. That didn’t mean I could actually cut through someone’s neck, though. “Ruby, how do you intend to teach me with this? I mean if there’s no messing around, just lop your head off and all?”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, Frey. I think I can handle you.”
“I’ll do it.” Chevelle’s voice startled me. I’d been absorbed in our conversation, unaware anyone was listening. I glanced around and realized everyone had been listening.
It dawned on me what Chevelle had said as they all circled around to watch. Ruby smiled at him, making me instantly suspicious she had set this up. A long sword was already in his hand as he approached. He raised it, expertly gripping the hilt with both hands. My mouth went dry, a vague part of my brain only managing a weak, Uh-oh.
Fear rushed through me and I wrapped my fists around the hilt of my own sword, praying I could protect myself. A smile was the only warning Chevelle gave before his blade cut the air. Instinct took over and I flung my arms up to block his swing with my own. The metal clashed and I felt the shock vibrate through me even as the peal pulsed in my ears. He struck again and I pulled the sword back, twisting to block another shot. I straightened and raised it back, surprised at how powerful I felt the moment before releasing my blow. I smiled as I swung at him, sure he would stop me but reveling in being attacker instead of victim.
He wound his blade around mine, a metallic screech filling my ears as he knocked my strike aside before coming back at me. We continued, blow after blow, the repetitive clank forming a pattern in my head. Chevelle seemed to be enjoying himself as the exercise increased in intensity. I found I was as well. I’d taken no direct beatings like my other training and I wasn’t getting as tired. No magic. I could see why they used weapons.
Chevelle pushed harder, assaulting me with faster and stronger swings. I was able to defend myself if I focused. Murmurs of approval floated in from our audience. I enjoyed that more than I probably should have. I concentrated hard and began throwing a few good hits of my own in with the blocks. Our swords clashed repeatedly, neither of us hitting the mark. I was certain he could have, but confident I was blocking well.
We continued until I became winded, then Chevelle lowered his blade, smiling with approval. Our audience commented on the show, and I glanced around to see it was evening already, the sun beginning to set. How long have we sparred? I could feel the ache in my arms now. The sword hung limp at my side.
Ruby took it from my hand. “We’ll get you fitted with a sheath.”
I stood there, facing Chevelle, breathless but grinning. He was smiling appreciatively. I realized we were still being watched and sheepishly turned from him to join the group as they prepared a fire for dinner. The evening was filled with stories and laughter. Chevelle’s eyes fell on me often; he seemed in better spirits in general, which made me wonder again about his morning guest.
Rhys and Rider approached and most of the group went over to meet them. Steed moved to sit beside me. “Very nice today, Frey,” he observed. I smiled and he added, “You seem to be a natural.”
I snorted.
Across the fire, Grey leaned over to speak in Ruby’s ear. Steed noticed me scrutinize them, so I asked, “Are they… together?” I was confident in Grey’s affection, but they didn’t act like a traditional pair.
Steed sighed as we watched them. “No.”
There seemed to be more to his answer. “But he…” I wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
“Yes.” Steed glanced back at me when he spoke. “But you can’t always have the one you want, Frey.” His voice was soft, yearning.
I could never tell if he was teasing. “I heard once you could die from grief.”
He smiled at my subject change. “It’s true. I’ve seen it myself.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No, too sad.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “I worried… about my father.” His eyes returned to me. “After my mother died. Sometimes I’m grateful for the fire witch’s seduction. He was grieving so hard…” His expression lost all trace of its usual cockiness as he brought back the memory. “Her enchantments numbed him. Then, when he woke from them, the tragedy gave him purpose.” A shadow of his smile returned as he looked away. “The irony is her tragedy gave root to the idea—”
“Frey.” Chevelle was suddenly standing between us. I gaped up at him, the trance of Steed’s words broken.
“Huh?”
“Time to go.” There was anger in his voice. I didn’t know what I had done, but I stood obediently. Chevelle pulled me away from Steed.
“I’ll take her,” Ruby offered.
“No. I’ll do it myself.” A lot of anger.
“We’ll both go,” she pushed, forcing a polite tone. The rest of the group was quiet, watching us, and Ruby eyed Steed as we turned and headed toward the house.
As soon as we were out of earshot, though I was still being dragged by the arm, I asked Chevelle, “Did something happen with the twins?”
Ruby laughed. We both stared at her. “Twins,” she scoffed.
“Right, well, you know what I mean,” I said, embarrassed.
Chevelle’s tone softened. “No. Everything is fine.”
Ruby chimed in, “It is fine,” and I knew it was intended for him. He relaxed his grip on my arm and slowed our pace as he directed an almost imperceptible nod at Ruby. I relaxed, too; fine being better than anything I’d thought in a long while.
Chevelle stayed in the front room that night, watching through the small windows. When I closed my eyes, I could see the glint of swords making patterns as they crossed again and again. Ruby’s hummed tune was sad, the sound drifting through the walls between us as I fell into an easy sleep.
Chevelle and Ruby’s voices, low and confrontational, woke me. I rubbed my tired arms as I rose to join them in the front room.
“What’s going on?” I asked, though I could tell by their exchange they’d been arguing.
Ruby grinned at me. “Just planning for the trip.”
“Trip?”
“Yes, you know, to the peak.” She was scheming.
“Oh.” I decided I’d let them work it out, heading instead to Ruby’s room. “I’m going to take a bath.”
As I closed the door, Ruby said, “It’s time to tell her.” I didn’t hear a response. I was soaking in hot water, my eyes closed, not even considering getting out when she knocked on the door.
“What, Ruby?”
She giggled. “How did you know it was me?” No one else is that annoying. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
The water streamed from the tub and out the back window. I swore. “Fine, I’m getting dressed.” I dried off, gathering clothes from a pile I assumed was for me, too large for Ruby’s petite frame.
I opened the door and knew right away I would regret whatever they were about to tell me. Ruby commanded me to sit.
Chevelle straightened, clearing his throat. “Frey, we need to talk with you about something.” Oh, perfect. I waited, and he proceeded carefully, “You know you are bound.”
“Yes,” I agreed, even though I w
asn’t clear how I was partially bound. I could use some magic, I had lost some memories. No, that isn’t true, is it? I couldn’t really remember anything from before the village. Anything except the dreams.
“And I’m sure you want to be unbound?”
Why is that a question? “Of course.”
He nodded as if he were going down a checklist. “We know council has bound you.” I waited for the next detail, my fingers curling into my palms. “And we know they must be the one or ones to unbind you.” Some part of me realized the seriousness of the conversation, but all I could do was listen. “They are, obviously… unwilling.” The breath I drew was too sharp. “I know some about the binding. I’ve studied it.”
When he stopped, I said, “All right.” I didn’t know what he was getting at.
“The problem is… meddling with the bindings, meddling with your mind is… well, it’s dangerous.”
And there it was.
“Dangerous,” I repeated.
They let me consider that for a moment. They were being careful with me, didn’t want to upset me. I tried to ease them. “So we go back to the village and…”
They shared an uncomfortable glance, and then, “Not High Council, Freya. Grand Council.”
Oh, right. The ones who were trying to capture me. The ones who want to burn me. Their cautious demeanor made more sense now. The council had sent trackers—the pair Chevelle had choked and released, and the other, the broken, limp corpse in the clearing by the ridge. We had killed him. And they were worried about my stupid binding?
The circling cloaks from my dreams were back, filling my head. My thoughts were twisting, getting out of control. They’d be hunting us all down now. They would kill us. That was why I needed training. To protect myself. Because they intended to kill me, not capture. They intended to kill us all. And without magic, bound as I was, I didn’t stand a chance.
My anxiety must have shown; Ruby shifted her jaw.
“No.” I held up a hand up to stop her. “No more dust.” I stood. “Let’s just get back. Back to training.” They didn’t argue, though they were plainly concerned.
We went to the ridge with the others, but we didn’t train. In fact, I was fairly certain Ruby and Chevelle were avoiding me. I waited through the morning and finally—around midday—I gave up and relaxed onto the ground, staring up at the sky. The earth beneath me was warm, the sun shining bright. I watched as a bird flew high overhead. It was gliding, slow and steady on the wind.
As I shielded my eyes with a hand, I noticed the ink on my wrist and smiled. I suddenly knew the soaring creature above was a hawk. I closed my eyes and relaxed my arm at my side, imagining flying. I breathed deep and conjured the image it would see, looking down on us.
The picture was sharp, even at this distance, but the colors weren’t as clear, and the outlying shapes not as defined. I laughed at myself for adding that detail to my daydream, imagining a bird seeing differently.
My vision sailed over us, past the ridge, south. I imagined seeing the twins, perched in two trees, watching. Hardwood bows rested high on their backs. The wolves were mostly concealed on the ground, vigilant. One glanced up at me, at the bird. Someone approaching, robe and tassels blowing in the cool breeze. The second wolf looked forward. He saw it, too, and abruptly pointed, calling out.
But the howl echoed in my own ears, not my imagination, and I jolted upright. The field was in motion, rushing in response to the warning. In seconds, they were set again, the same protective positions they had taken the last time. The last time a tracker had found us.
It was all I could do to steady myself as the councilman was brought forward, because he was the same one from my vision. I was in shock as he knelt, not under his own power, and was frozen there before us. How could I have seen him?
Chevelle mumbled something and my ears began to ring, distracting me from bewilderment. It was only a few stuttered heartbeats before recognition came.
“Stop!” I hissed. All eyes turned to me, but I glared at Chevelle. “Stop,” I repeated.
He understood. My ears ceased ringing, my hearing cleared. I stepped forward, the rage still fuming. I felt like a fool for not realizing before. He had been the cause of my hearing issues, and he was the one holding the tracker there. Chevelle had bound the man from magic for questioning. He had studied it, said he knew something about it.
I was furious, so much so that I forgot my own situation. I approached the kneeling tracker, daring anyone to stop me. “Tell me what you know about binding.”
He didn’t answer, his jaw tight in defiance. The sword sat in my newly acquired sheath and I drew it out, taking a peculiar sort of delight in the ssshk that sounded when the steel passed through. The others watched me, silent and wary, but the tracker smirked. He wasn’t afraid of a sword. The last tracker hadn’t given at broken bones, not even before the threat of certain death. I’d need something dreadful, a new tactic to convince him.
A tiny snake sunning on a nearby rock caught my eye and I smiled. Some part of me knew what had happened before, had felt it. I could do it again.
I slipped the tip of the sword down to the tracker’s leg, just above where his knee met the ground, and sliced his trousers up to the thigh to reveal bare skin. Drawing the snake close with magic, I took it in my hand, its thin green body writhing over my left palm, the sword grasped in my right. The prisoner watched me, almost smug.
It was a small snake, its white belly confirming it was nonvenomous, its frame no thicker than my pinkie, but it would do. I slid the tip of the sword across the skin above the man’s knee, making a narrow incision. His expression did change then, giving way to uncertainty. I smiled at him as the sword tip rested against his leg. In measured movements, I placed the snake on the base of the blade, letting it slide toward its mark. I closed my eyes to relax, settle into the snake as I had the bird.
My knees buckled as I released too much and I had to back off, giving myself just enough to control it. As it entered the wound, the tracker gasped and my smile stretched wickedly. I wormed my way blindly up his leg, intent on getting the information I needed.
They’re getting closer. They’ve found us a third time now. They’ll kill us. I wanted to free my mind, free my bonds. They won’t take me.
Something about that last thought didn’t seem right, like it wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t follow it. The tracker screamed; it had reached his thigh. My eyes flicked open. The body of the snake made a lump under the skin of the tracker’s leg. His face was contorted in agony, but that wasn’t what had done it. It was the fear. He had cracked. Chevelle released the tracker’s hand long enough for the man to scribble a few words of a spell, not allowing him to speak or cast magic.
He slumped after his surrender, confident the worst was over. I reached the sword tip back to his leg and made another incision to release the snake. It jerked and coiled free of the wound, flicking blood over the tracker’s pristine white robe. Behind me, a low voice ordered, “Kill him.”
I glanced down at the sword, still in my hand. The sword I was supposed to take someone’s head off with. I didn’t know who the order had been intended for, but it wasn’t me. This man was going to die. I knew he didn’t have more than a moment before their magic broke him. They would take his life because he was after us. After me.
I didn’t hesitate, just pulled my arm up and swung hard, backhand. The blade cut clean and his head rolled backward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
I looked away.
The others stared at me. I couldn’t blame them.
Steed’s voice was low, wary. “He didn’t mean you, Frey.”
I turned, unable to stand the bloody vision in my peripheral. The tracker’s words waited in Chevelle’s hand. “Okay,” I said, feeling slightly detached from myself. “Let’s try it.”
Chevelle’s disbelief was more than evident as he shot back, “No.”
Ruby spoke up. “It could be a trick. He’ll need to try i
t on someone else first.” Someone else? Who else was bound? She could see I was prepared to argue. “It isn’t safe.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
She didn’t answer. I remembered the story of her father then, how he’d been released after the fairy’s death.
I faced Chevelle. “If the council member who bound me dies, then will I be released?”
He plainly regretted what he’d divulged that morning, but something else rested just below his reluctance. Something hopeful. Something that burned beneath my skin. He answered, “Yes.”
“Then we kill them.” And if we don’t know which ones? “We kill them all.” I glanced around the clearing as the others watched me. The atmosphere had changed, and I realized only then the uncertainty I’d grown to expect. This was different. This was reverence.
Anvil smiled.
A movement at the tree line caught everyone’s attention, and I turned to find Chevelle’s onetime guest, Asher. He stood in the shadows, staff in hand, as if allowing us to see. The air was still as he inclined his head toward Chevelle and then turned, a long, dark braid whipping behind him as he disappeared into the brush. This seemed to mean something to the group, something like relief.
I stared after him, but Anvil stepped forward, thumping his balled fist against his chest in a gesture I didn’t understand. Grey followed, repeating the action and adding a single nod, and Ruby clasped her hands, bouncing excitedly from heel to toe. I felt myself drawing back together, tied by the knots in my stomach and mind. A tandem wolf howl sounded in the distance.
My stomach swam in unease.
Diary
The councilman’s body was disposed of, and the group bustled around the clearing. I slid my sword into its sheath, careful not to touch the blade. I hadn’t comprehended what the flourish of activity meant until Ruby grabbed my arm to conduct me. “Come on, we have to pack.”
She dragged me along as she rushed back to her house. She threw things around her room, sorting and gathering. I didn’t really have anything to assemble. There was only the pack I’d acquired months ago, nothing in it but that stupid white dress and the pouch… The pouch.
[2018] Reign of Queens Page 45