The Frey Saga Book IV Page 12

  Virtue’s head inclined toward Flora, but the glower only intensified. It was not just a reputation; the heliotrope was truly terrifying.

  While Flora finished decorating my hair, Virtue stormed to the pile, jerked a folded screen free, and slammed it upright on the floor. She threw her companion what was either a salute I’d never seen, or an offensive gesture that was nasty enough not to have been previously used in front of an elven lord.

  “There,” Flora said, patting the last braid into place. “Now change.”

  I drew the breath I’d need to stand and cross the floor, because I wasn’t sure I could put forth the effort to do both at once. It was bad enough at home, with my own politics. The last thing I wanted to do was parade and pretend here. And in front of a mob anticipating my murder, no less.

  As I turned to step behind the screen, I caught sight of Veil across the room. He stood before the massive windows overlooking his forests, still and silent and head of the fey high court. For the time being, anyway.

  He might have been watching those trees, considering what fates would come, but the sun glinted off the glass, throwing amber shadows against its surface and reflecting his gaze as it followed me.

  I had become the hope for the fey lands, against my will and at my own peril. I couldn’t blame him for it, but I would never forgive him. I would never forgive any of them.

  I let my gaze stay leveled on Veil’s reflection as I disappeared beyond the screen, and then I threw the pile of leather onto the floor, biting back a string of curses that would have made even a seasoned rogue blush.

  Flora had removed my poultices during her ministrations, and the wounds had sealed to a handful of faint red lines. I thought my ribs might be bruised again, but the ache was background noise to the rest of my problems. The pendant Ruby had left for me was still tucked into the belt at my waist, so I slipped it over my neck to hide beneath the fey garb. I understood now why they wanted her, and what the stone in that pendant was meant to represent. What I didn’t know was what Ruby wanted me to glean from the clue. Had she thought we wouldn’t follow her? Had she simply intended to leave us an answer about what the fey wanted? Or had she thought I’d not be fool enough to get caught in their first petty trap?

  I tossed the filthy scraps of clothing I had left from the battle onto the tiled floor and slid into fine leather boots and pants. The slim shirt and vest fit me well, but the standard metal emblems of my line had been exchanged for carved leather, leaving nothing but black on black on black. It didn’t feel strange, nothing unusual or out of place, until I stepped free of the screen and found my reflection in the long wall mirror.

  “Cursed fey,” I told the image. The outfit was a near-perfect replica of one I’d worn at a long-ago spring banquet as Asher’s Second. A gathering I’d been unaware any fey had attended, and was therefore more than a little unsettled by the accuracy of every single detail. I glared at Veil’s back, only to find he’d changed his own ensemble as well.

  If my wardrobe said black, his screamed the sun. He was resplendent in bronze, his chest—finally covered—was draped in silks embellished with ribbon and gems, his crown made of golden antlers, woven into a band and arching skyward in several sharp peaks. Long feathers were embroidered into his boot leather, golden ivy stitched at every seam. He smiled at my appraisal, apparently believing it was a courtesy—generous even—to spread wide his amber wings. When he did though, I couldn’t help but be impressed at the spectacle in this room of mirrors and glass, even if I kept it hidden beneath an angry scowl. He was a true fey idol, and as powerless as me.

  His words from the outer lands came back to me. It does not matter how strong a king is if his court turns against him. He was right, and it was time we took hold of the helm and steered this ship to storm and inferno.

  “Fine,” I told him. “We both look the fool. Now let us get on with your heathen ceremonies.”

  Veil frowned. It did nothing to diminish his regality. “Lord Freya. And we have been getting on so well.”

  “Save it for the gallery,” I told him. “I don’t have the energy for much more than that.”

  He ran a thumb over the ring on his third finger, the band set with a square-cut yellow stone. “Shall we get to it, then?”

  I crossed the room, weaponless and bereft. Veil was my only ally here, and I trusted him only in that he needed something from me. “Yes, let’s.”

  It was a game, an ugly, terrible game, and we both had our parts, our hidden cards, our final play to make.

  25

  Ruby

  “Even as we speak, the broken Seven make their way to these lands.” Pitt’s voice was smooth and impeccable, the rare ability to spell words to life made flawless by his immense power. Ruby listened, contemplating the words he’d chosen, the information he’d left out. Working on her plan. “They use their power to draw together armies, each of them fighting their perils to flock to the same destination. Each of them ready to meet the same end.”

  She picked apart his clues, if they even were clues, only arriving at assumptions that would do her no good. They were coming for her, but she’d known they would. Anvil must have split from the others, for who else had the power to draw together armies? He would use his unusual gift to persuade them, that trait that caused strangers to immediately think well of him despite his stature and build; he would likely go to Camber, to gather those same fighters who’d stood by their side against Grand Council. But this was the fey. How many would truly join? How many could even survive?

  And what other army? Which others of her Seven? Ruby could only hope that Steed had followed her clues, that Freya and the others were together, despite what Pitt had said. She wanted to ask about Grey so badly she could taste it, but the words would be poison. She could never let on that he held her concern in that way, even if it had been spoken of again and again. She could not admit that weakness openly.

  “And what of it?” Ruby said. “Your interest lies in me. This has nothing to do with the Seven or the North.”

  Pitt smiled, the tip of his finger stopping just shy of his lips. “Ah, but it does. For you see, the court holds your dear Elfreda. What is it you call her there—Lord of the North, ruler of your Kingdom of Dark Elves?” His eyes turned up at the edges, mirroring his sly smile. “This Freya is a prisoner of the fey lord of the sun, and her mate at the hands of one of my own.”

  And just like that, the bottom fell out of Ruby’s plan. Frey was separated from her anchor, the only safe way to use her power.

  “You lie,” she said. “Even as you bring those words from the black abyss, you turn them to suit your will. I will not strike a bargain with a fraud, a dirty spellcaster.”

  Pitt laughed, the sound echoing in the still-silent wood. The others watched in rapt attention, waiting for whatever end would come. It could be a swift execution, or possibly terms for a trade. Either way, the show would be brilliant, their patience a worthwhile exchange. “Well, I suppose I do incline them to my favor, but you are correct, my interest lies in you.”

  She bit down a curse. She’d cost herself knowing more, her bad reaction keeping him from continuing his speech. She’d have to pay for the other knowledge now, to give him something in return. “The bargain,” she told him. “Let’s have it. Name your price.”

  He tsked at her, shaking his head. “I’m afraid it will not be so simple, halfling.”

  Ruby’s impatience began to show through and he asked, “Have you somewhere else to be?” When she glared at him, he laughed again. This was his prize, this show in front of a growing band of fey. But he needed something from her, and she intended to be gone from this forest before the next moon.

  “First,” he told her, “a test.”

  Ruby’s mouth went dry, though the thought of such a difficulty had already crossed her mind. She feigned as casual a response as possible. “On with it, then.”

  Pitt flashed his teeth, rising into the air. He watched her, waiting, and Ruby
glared back, drawing her hands up to rest on her hips. He knew she couldn’t fly.

  Everyone knew she couldn’t fly.

  He bit his lip, grin larger than ever, and then snapped a finger at two of his men. They grabbed Ruby, one by each arm, and Pitt told them, “Careful now, this one bites.”

  Ruby bared her own teeth, finally resigned to taking part in the show, but bristled when no one approached Rhys beside her. “He comes with us,” she told Pitt.

  “Ah,” he answered, “but if I didn’t have something you wanted, then how would I keep you under control?”

  Three guards did grab Rhys then, to restrain him. Ruby jerked an arm free of the spiders holding her, only to be lifted from the ground, swift and sure. When they reached an unsafe height, she stopped fighting. They would drop her, as certain as anything. The keeper probably wouldn’t let them kill her until he received his end of the bargain, but two broken legs would only make the trade that much easier. Not to mention lessen her chance of escape.

  She gave Rhys a promise with her stare. She would come back for him. She would do what she could, whatever she had to. He didn’t look afraid, though, and she was sorry for that. A man of honor should understand the tangled disaster he was about to walk into.

  There was a short, sharp call not unlike that of a bird, and the men at her arms took flight, sudden and reckless as they left her comrade alone in the heart of Hollow Forest. She would repay Pitt this feeling, the dread that tore at her insides. Later though, for now she had a more pressing matter to resolve. A test, at the hands of a dangerous changeling fey.

  * * *

  They flew for some distance, the forest thinning before eventually falling to rough patches of near-barren land. The grass was low, yellowed and worn… trodden by something other than fey. Ruby glanced at one of her captors; his dark eyes watched the sky, not the ground beneath them. It was as if he had no interest in where they were going, no stake in this game. She didn’t believe that. The other held fast to her as well, the sharp, thorn-like tattoos that traced the bones of their faces and arms the only decoration they wore.

  Ruby had dispatched their brethren one by one as they fled with her from her castle home. She wouldn’t mind doing that bit over again. Maybe a measure less hurried, more painful.

  Pitt slowed, lowering toward a section of dirt that had been scattered with broken tree limbs. The spiders lowered as well, easing down to drop Ruby near the keeper. Their feet didn’t touch earth, and Ruby readied herself to land softly when they let her go. They were overhead in a heartbeat, hovering just out of range—had she a whip.

  Ruby’s knees straightened, bringing her to stand facing Pitt across the same approximate distance—just out of range. That was when she realized the scattered limbs were not trees. They were bone. Dry, dirt-covered bone.

  Dead fey didn’t leave piles of bone. They grew fast, but rarely made it to old age. When they did, their skin began to lighten in color, to thin and separate from themselves like fragile husks to leave their exhausted bodies behind and return their magic to the earth.

  She stepped forward, scenting something… wrong. This was not a place where things came to die. This was a place where things were killed. It smelled of musk and must, of unfertile soil. The breeze brought in staleness, and the faintest hint of smoke. But it wasn’t that of a fey flame, she thought. It was harsher, that of a burning, long-dried oak.

  Ruby had tasted these scents before.

  She stared at Pitt, who merely watched her take in the clues. “Not to worry,” he said after a moment, “none of these nasty little creatures are near us here.”

  She knew what he didn’t say: Not anymore.

  “The test,” Ruby told him.

  Pitt rolled his head, stretching neck and shoulder as if he were about to battle, despite the ease of his expression. He slid the tigerwood staff into its place on his back, the pale blue stone that adorned the handle well within reach. Ruby’s gaze followed as he gestured her past him, and she realized the bones continued into the grass. A line of them lay strewn through the field, spread out seemingly haphazard, but most definitely a demarcation.

  Pitt wanted her to cross that line.

  This was the test, she could tell by his posture. But she couldn’t see why. She walked forward slowly, eyes lifting to scan ahead: scattered, thin trees, not green enough and presenting too-narrow leaves. Barren, she thought. This land was barren. It wasn’t the vegetation, not the lack of beasts.

  She edged up to the dotted line of bone, glancing back once at Pitt. He watched her, expressionless and no less striking than the half dozen times she’d looked at him earlier. She did not know what would happen when she raised her foot to step again, but she did it anyway. She’d no other choice.

  Hollow, that was how the ground finally felt when her boot touched earth. She walked farther though, because it was not an entirely uncomfortable sensation. She’d never liked the fey lands with the roaring current of power beneath. It was a constant river of energy to the full-blood fey, but to Ruby it was only noise, a purl and hiss that vibrated insistent and just out of reach.

  She stopped, swallowing the laugh that bubbled up.

  This was the test.

  This.

  She smiled her most horrible grin and turned to Pitt. Since she was a child, she’d known they’d wanted her. It had teased the edges of her consciousness for the first few years, a quiet knowledge that she suspected had been gifted to her. Maybe by her mother, but it was impossible to be sure. The children of the fey grew far faster than the elves, and soon she had caught her older brother Steed. They had come for her then, playful and pestering, hinting that she would soon be theirs. Her brother had kept Ruby from the border lands, knowing to cross would have meant torment at best, a slow, painful demise at worst. But even when she’d strayed from Camber, far from the fey lands but outside of his watchful eye, the pixies and sprites tangled into Ruby’s hair, whispering.

  She had grown accustomed to such threats, until a half-dozen seasons ago, when the whispers had become frenzied. She hadn’t known this was what they wanted, she had misunderstood.

  Fear had paralyzed them, though, driven them to neglect their own rules.

  Think. Plan. Prepare ahead.

  Pitt, the keeper of silent things. He was a fool.

  She tossed her arms skyward, throwing her fingers open wide. Fire flew from her palms, devouring the scents and the air. Orange danced in red flares, flickering yellow and sparking to the ground. It ate at the dry grasses, clearing everything not flush with life. Ruby dropped her hands down and outward, letting it crawl throughout the field. She pushed the blaze harder than she’d done before, seeming to draw heat from the ground to her, seeming to feed the conflagration.

  He was a stupid, arrogant fool.

  Pitt studied her, evidently convinced this was more power than any halfling should be able to muster, and Ruby pushed harder. A blast of flame shot up around her, creating a wall of fire that arced at her back and sides. She made it dance, curl onto itself, and break like a wave crashing to the earth. The fire sucked back to nothing, suddenly choked of the power that created it, and all that remained was the remembered heat and burned-out field.

  “This is what you wanted,” Ruby said.

  This was her test, to see if her gift to use magic in the elven lands was stolen from her here, drawn into this sieve, this hollow earth.

  “Come,” Pitt answered. “We have much to discuss.”

  Ruby crossed over the bones once more, feeling the slow return of that buried static. This was why he’d stayed beyond the barrier, to protect himself. And yet he knew she wouldn’t run. Her weakness in relation to the Seven was patent. It was going to cost her, and probably end up costing one of them as well.

  She’d made it past the test, though, which was in itself more than she’d expected. Ruby had never been able to draw on the base power. The barren land meant nothing to her because the base power meant nothing. Pitt had been s
o focused on securing a remedy for himself that he had underestimated her. He’d been so determined to keep his bid a secret that he’d excluded others, others who might know she was more powerful than he’d expected. Others who might have gathered precisely how her power worked.

  She’d thought he had merely wanted the diary, but this was more. He’d wanted her, she realized, not for that secret alone, but so that he might have her bloodline in his hands.

  Pitt’s earlier words came back to her, sudden and like a knife to the chest. They weren’t holding Frey for an exchange—not as ransom for Ruby’s diary. They wanted Frey. It was the only reason to take her second-in-command, the same reason Pitt was holding Rhys at this very moment. To keep her in line.

  Ruby had known as another half-blood she would be important, but she’d misjudged the fey again. It wasn’t that Frey could control the humans. It was that she’d been born, and lived.

  There was a reason the crossing of blood was so disdained. Ruby recalled the woman in Asher’s chamber, the human who, despite all possible tending, had died a horrible death. With Frey, things had been less complicated because her father had been human. When it came to the fey, it didn’t work so easily. Ruby’s mother had found a way around it, a way for the magics to blend and a half-elf, half-fey child to live. She had miscalculated though, for no one expected the child to be venomous and to inadvertently poison her own mother.

  Ruby’s mother and Asher had been the only two who had successfully created half-breeds. Asher had done it more than once, but he had failed more than succeeded. And now he—and those children—had been destroyed by both elves and fey. No one wanted the outcome of their survival, so all that remained was Ruby, Frey, and Asher’s half-human child. Isa, Frey had told her. The name chosen by Junnie because the babe’s human mother had died during delivery. The woman had been convinced the child would be a boy. A king, Asher had told her. Ruby couldn’t help but note now that king didn’t refer to any title in the elven lands.