The Frey Saga Book V Page 4

  She stood, brushing a hand over the mess of her braids. It was matted and pulling loose, with frayed strands here and there. Thea looked over her shoulder, but there was no hay in sight. Someone must have tucked it there while she slept. Barris, she thought, but only briefly because her captain was already halfway down the aisle. She ran after him.

  Five horses stood at the entrance to the stables, and ten more with mounted soldiers were in the courtyard. Thea’s gaze caught a familiar movement, a recognizable shift of posture she’d seen before. Barris. She glared at him. He smiled.

  Steed was tying Thea’s parcel onto her horse, and she took a moment to straighten the worst of her braid. “They are all going with us.”

  He didn’t turn around. “The high guard will not travel alone, for the time being.”

  More rules, Thea thought. She wondered if it had always been like this, with Ruby under lock and key and Steed unable to leave on his own. She was nearly positive that the answer was no. She remembered visits from the Seven when she’d lived in Camber. They often traveled in pairs, but they did occasionally arrive on their own. “Because of the fey?” she whispered.

  Steed turned, his situating of her saddle and parcel complete. “Thea, we aren’t going to have problems, are we?”

  She knew what he meant: her cursed mouth. She opened it to reply but snapped it shut again, deciding to heed Barris’s relentless advice: just do your duty and keep it sealed.

  Thea wondered if she was meant to be with the others, but as she mounted, she saw their armor and swords. They were soldiers, she realized. She was a meager assistant among the guard. They were there to protect the high guard, and if anything were to happen, they would probably have to protect her as well. She cursed herself for only bringing the short knives. She might have been terrible with a sword, but she could at least have brought her bow.

  The armed soldiers split, and two rode ahead while the others waited to bring up the rear of the party. A tall sentry mounted one of the five horses Steed had readied, and Thea recognized him as Duer. She’d crossed paths with the man before—he’d trained the new recruits with axes and hammers, and Thea had kept her distance to work instead with knives. She’d seen what a hammer could do to a person. Both weapons were capable of making a kill, but a knife blade was sharp, the cut clean. A slash could be stitched back together, but a blow by a hammer was a mess of a thing.

  They rode out with two of the horses empty of burden. Thea understood those were backup in case anything went wrong.

  It didn’t help to rally her courage. She was quiet as they rode through the castle gates, past the staff and visitors who nodded their respect. Dressed in the uniform of a guard, with Steed more her superior and less her childhood friend, Thea felt the weight of it all. Even if she’d committed herself to her new life, she still felt strange, being a member of the castle guard, though that out-of-the-ordinary sensation wasn’t unpleasant.

  The horses picked up speed, and she drew in a deep breath of the cool mountain air, smiling like a fool. After galloping through some rough mountain passes, Thea realized that the men she was with had not been picked for their sword-fighting abilities. They were horsemen, soldiers who could ride. They must have been chosen personally by Steed. The procession made faster time than she’d imagined possible, slowing only to cross the occasional stream. They might have taken the long route, bringing them past the water onto easily passable ground, but she was glad they didn’t.

  The beast beneath her leapt over trees, cracking low limbs and startling fauna without so much as a flinch. He jumped with abandon into the occasional creek, spraying water, flinging mud, and snorting at will. It was exhilarating after weeks spent in the castle, scraping and cleaning and trudging up the stairs. Thea missed the outdoors, even if she’d spent much time in the open sky. She’d missed the wind, the air, and the thin mountain trees.

  It wasn’t her alone, either. She saw in the others a freeing of their posture, an ease of their smiles.

  Especially in Steed—his rigid bearing was gone, and he seemed so much more the boy he used to be. Thea wasn’t certain it was simply the air, though, because Steed had been born to handle the creatures who carried them down the mountain pass. He had never been more at home than he was with his stock. She had wondered if he’d missed it, but Thea could see how his new life meant more. He had a bit of both worlds just then, and his animals were important for more than merely companionship and trading.

  When they’d been children, Thea had not understood Steed’s connection with the beasts. She loved horses, unquestionably, but she loved all animals. Steed’s relationship with them was different. It was in his blood. His ancestors had traded and bred, bringing together new lines that surpassed all the old. It was a thing of beauty to watch him train a horse. It was beyond beautiful to really see the bond he held with his own.

  They rode past nightfall then took camp near a copse of narrow trees. The soldiers quickly dismounted, drawing their gear from the horses and going to task. Thea slid more slowly from her own mount, surreptitiously stretching her legs. She couldn’t recall when she’d last ridden so tirelessly and remembered that it had been when they’d raced to meet the rest of the Seven on fey lands. The excitement of that ride had numbed her. Fear of imminent death apparently had a way of overshadowing the need to stretch.

  She heaved her gear from the horse’s back, bringing it to rest beside one of the trees. Steed settled his there as well, obviously not as weary as she. She’d forgotten she meant not to speak freely and asked, “Why do you still ready the horses yourself? Don’t you have plenty of hands for that?”

  Steed brushed a clump of mud from his trousers. “We aren’t at home now, and this isn’t like Camber. Take care to mind things yourself, and you’ll know they’re done correctly.”

  She laughed, wondering when he’d become that much of a perfectionist. But he only watched her, his expression grave, and she understood. “You mean it’s the only way you’ll know you’re safe.” She’d gone pale—she knew she had—but there was nothing to be done for it.

  “You joined the guard, Thea. Surely, you understood there’d be risk.”

  She swallowed. “I did. Of course. I just—I mean, I thought you’d be safe among your own men.”

  “I trust them with my life,” he told her. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t take that gamble into my own hands whenever I’m given the chance.”

  “Right,” she said. “Of course.” She was repeating herself, which wasn’t a good sign. She sighed. “So, this list…”

  “Yes,” Steed answered, gesturing high into the air above. Thea’s gaze followed, finding only a clouded sky and the tips of those narrow trees. “That,” he told her, “is where we’ll need to ascend.”

  Her automatic response caught in her throat as she remembered Ruby’s words: Can you climb? She stared at Steed, wide-eyed.

  He smirked. “That’s what you get for joining in league with my sister.”

  Thea stuttered, but Steed only turned and headed toward the ring, where the others were building a fire. “See you at daybreak,” he called over his shoulder.

  Thea’s gaze rose again to the skyline, to the tips of those trees, and she swallowed the nasty lump in her throat. She’d done it again, leapt head-first into a tangle of briars.

  The next morning, well before the rising sun, Thea and the others had cleared their camp. The horses were saddled, breakfast was had, and a young, thin sentry was scaling his way up the tall thornberry tree by rope and foot. It seemed well and good, but Thea knew that at some point, he would reach the buds Ruby needed and would have to let the rope free to gain use of his hands. They were not to be tainted by spells or magic, Ruby had said. It was to be done by hand.

  It was not something Thea especially wanted to see.

  She had not intended to show doubt but couldn’t quite muster the strength to stand beneath that tree. She ran a hand over her horse as the others waited below, shouting cheers
and taunts to a sentry they seemed to know well. The sentry called out when he’d secured his prize then slowly made his way down the tree. There were words of approval and pats on the back all around before the men returned to their mounts.

  Steed handed Thea the small pouch to inspect their spoils. She split a pod open with her thumb then glanced up at Steed. “Perfect. Ruby will be pleased.”

  He smirked. “I wouldn’t expect too much from her until Grey is mended, but this should help.”

  “She blames herself,” Thea said.

  Steed’s brow drew down.

  She kept forgetting to keep her trap shut. “Sorry,” she told him. “It’s none of my business.” She drew the list from her pocket, scratching off one item out of eight and twenty.

  “She does,” Steed said. “Some people always take the guilt onto themselves.” Thea looked up at him, and he added, “And then there are those who simply draw trouble.”

  She was pretty sure she’d taken offense to that, but she didn’t have a chance to get the declaration out. She glared at Steed’s back as he rode away on his horse.

  Barris rode past her, leaning down to say, “I’ve some free advice for the taking—”

  She cut him off. “I know. Keep it sealed.”

  He chuckled, and Thea climbed onto her own horse. They rode again through the day, swiftly and surely, not stopping until well after dark. Thea could smell the lake in the cool air, though clouds obscured the light of the moon. She’d traveled the mountain before and had been to the base of it and farther into the grasslands and forests nearing Council lands. Her work as a healer had brought her there, but Thea hadn’t minded the journey. It had been stirring to see the land and to be out of Camber for a few days at a time.

  It was different, though, as a member of the castle guard. It made her more vulnerable, because there was an importance to her station she’d never had. But it also made her safer, because sentries and soldiers rode at her side. Of all the places Thea had been or had ever imagined going, she never had the idea she would one day walk into the heart of Council lands. And she could not have fathomed it would be dressed as a castle guard.

  “Finally quiet,” Barris said from beside her.

  She elbowed him in the ribs.

  He smiled, drawing her saddle free to put with the others. “Come, eat with us. We’ve found a nice spot by the bank.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Who’s getting pushed in?”

  Barris shook his head. “Not when we’re on a mission. Some of us prefer not to get reprimands.”

  Thea crossed her arms and leaned toward him. “Some of you just get lucky you don’t get caught.”

  Barris winked. “You call it luck. I call it expertise.” Barris suddenly straightened, and Thea turned to see Steed in the shadows, watching them as he tended one of the horse’s legs. Barris nodded respectfully and gestured Thea toward the lake.

  “You go on,” she told him. “I want to see if I can be of help.”

  When he left, Thea made her way through the tall grass, careful not to startle the horse, even if she’d yet to see one twitch at a sudden movement. She might have asked if she could be of assistance but instead only watched Steed as he slid a palm over the animal’s leg, making occasional soothing noises. She knelt at a distance, waiting.

  Steed shifted, and his touch became a gentle stroke. “Nothing serious. Just a tangle with a snapped branch. He’ll be fine.”

  That was good. They were too far out to do much for the animal if he had been badly injured.

  Thea moved closer, letting the gelding sniff at her hair. She rubbed curled fingers against its jaw, and it blew into her hair. She smiled—she couldn’t help it.

  Steed was watching her, both of them kneeling in the high grass. “What?” she asked him.

  He shook his head, as if maybe he hadn’t realized he’d been doing it. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Before all this, I mean. How many seasons has it been?”

  She pursed her lips. “Maybe three seasons before the one when we heard you’d joined the guard.” She looked at him. “Everyone was quite surprised at that.”

  He laughed, the sound short and quiet. “No more surprised than I, I would imagine.”

  Thea ran a hand over the horse’s snout, up and under his mane. The gelding leaned into it. “And yet less surprised than Ruby?”

  Steed’s gaze narrowed on her.

  She shrugged. “The entire town was saying it. You know her reputation.”

  He did. She could see that much was true. But he didn’t confirm or deny his sister’s involvement. Even if Ruby had planned it, he’d had the choice. He could have walked away, refused to help.

  Thea thought of Freya and then of the young girl Isa and her wide, dark eyes. No, she supposed, he probably couldn’t have refused. “There’s something very… enthralling about all of this, is there not?”

  He smiled at her. “Yes. I’ve found I’m quite unable to return to my previous life.”

  “Me too,” she agreed. “Quite.”

  “And do you fancy yourself a warrior someday?”

  He was teasing her—she was sure of it. But Thea didn’t mind. Steed’s banter had never held ill intent. “If I could hold a sword, I’d be your girl.”

  She’d said it playfully enough, but there was something in the phrase that was not entirely right. Not there, alone in the low light, away from the others. She might have wished she hadn’t, but the look on Steed’s face sent a tingling heat through her—a response she should absolutely not be directing toward a superior.

  Thea stood, brushing a hand across her leg. “Are you coming for dinner?”

  “Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ll be along in a bit.”

  She turned, avoiding the chance to speak again. She couldn’t seem to trust her foolish mouth.

  7

  Frey

  Chevelle and I stood beneath the ledge of the high windows of the training room where we’d spent so many days of our youth. Those unruly children were gone, replaced by the Lord of the North and her Second. We shared a glance, and he surreptitiously slid his collar between forefinger and thumb.

  I smiled at the signal, a secret just between us from so long ago. I gestured toward Ruby, who stood not far from me with her new charge. “Are you certain we need more fire around here?”

  Chevelle chuckled, but both of us knew the duty would serve a higher purpose. Ruby could train the new sentries who excelled in flamework without the risk of being burned, certainly, but in doing so, we’d given her one more task to keep her occupied with something other than vengeance.

  Ruby’s new charge was petite, not much taller than Ruby herself, and built of nothing but lean muscle. Her arms were bare beneath a black-leather vest, aside from short bracers at her wrists. Her cropped hair was spiky and glossy black, and her dark eyes tipped up at the edges as if in a smile. But she was not smiling. She was a warrior.

  Ruby snapped her fingers again, bringing the girl’s focus to her at once. “There is no place for showmanship in a true fight. It matters not how impressive your flame looks when you’re defending your home.” The girl stared at Ruby, attentiveness her only response. “Make it hot and make it clean. As fast as you can with a single focus, a steady point.” Ruby gestured in the air between them, a jab with her hand like that of a blade.

  The girl drew one foot back to ready her stance, waiting for the command to go.

  “She’s good,” I murmured to Chevelle at my side.

  He nodded once. “Willa, she’s called. From a clan south of Camber.”

  “And what of the others?”

  “Edan has recommended three, and there are two more I’ve an eye on myself.”

  It was no surprise—the head of the guard didn’t recommend anyone for higher service unless he was absolutely certain of their abilities. He wasn’t willing to stake his reputation on mere potential. Chevelle tended toward a surety of character sooner, though his ruling was more often a bit shar
p.

  “What about Barris?” I asked.

  Chevelle kept his gaze on Ruby and her charge. “He’s doing well. Solid strength and an even temperament.”

  “He doesn’t carry his mother’s talent?”

  “Not that I’ve seen.”

  I nodded, remembering the wall of wind that had saved us so long ago. She’d given her life for it, but the strength Barris’s mother had wielded was extraordinary. “And the healer?”

  He pressed his lips together, glanced at me sidelong. “Thea. Ruby has sent her along with Steed.”

  I blinked slowly and resisted the urge to press my fingers to the bridge of my nose or to say anything with her in earshot.

  Chevelle let the corner of his mouth tip up at my response. “She’s gathering supplies for Ruby. As a healer, she has knowledge that many of the others do not.”

  I nodded. “It’s just as well,” I said. “I don’t mind the idea of a healer being along with the group.”

  “If I’m not mistaken,” he said, “he’s chosen Barris to go along as well.”

  “I wonder how she finds the time to be so clever,” I mused, watching the smallest and possibly most dangerous of my Seven.

  Chevelle’s expression said he did not think clever was the proper word.

  Ruby and the girl continued their honing of her talent, and when Kieran appeared in one of the arched doorways, Chevelle and I met him halfway across the open floor.

  “An urgent matter calls at the gate.” His expression grim, Kieran explained, “A few rogues barreled over a clan east of the mountain, killing stock and wounding men, and the victims are demanding retribution and an immediate audience with the Lord of the North.”

  Chevelle waited in stillness, showing no apparent intention of allowing me to be called to the gate. “None are entitled to demand anything of an elven lord,” he started, but I held up a hand to stop him.

  “We’ve time,” I said. “Let us go see what the rogues have stirred up now.”