Frey (The Frey Saga, #1)(29)

She purred. “Well, well. Alone are we?” She was smiling wickedly. She came closer, so close I became even more uncomfortable. “Let’s talk…”

She leaned in as she spoke and I thought I saw something glisten in the air between us. I was frozen there as she kept coming. I wasn’t sure she didn’t plan on kissing me but I couldn’t move away…

“Stop!” Chevelle’s voice was angry as she was whisked away from me, laughing. Her red curls brushed my face on their way past.

“Just having a little fun, Vattier.” Her voice was calm, full of humor.

It sounded as if she were far away. Or as if I were in a tunnel. Chevelle was still talking to her, an angry rumble, and then at once they were gone. My head swirled and I felt off balance. I started to stumble and a strong hand was on my arm.

“Easy there, Honeysuckle.” Steed’s voice beside me cleared my head a bit.

“What happened?” I asked, confused. My mouth tingled.

“A little fairy dust. Breath of the siren.”

“Wha?” My tongue was thick. Steed chuckled.

“Intoxicating, isn’t it?” I could hear the smile in his voice. My nose tingled and I scrunched it up a little then giggled at the feeling.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Fairy breath?” He laughed again.

“Red. She’s a half breed.” I was confused but wasn’t sure that was what my face showed. “How do you feel?”

“Weird.”

“Yes, that’s normal.”

“Hot,” I said, unclasping my cloak and tossing it off behind me. I swayed.

“Maybe you should sit down,” he warned.

Yes, that was a good idea. “Half breed?” I asked, unable to form full sentences.

“Half fairy, half elf.” He sat in a chair as he started to answer and I kept moving past the bench where I intended to land and crawled on his lap, curling my feet up, knees to my chest. His voice seemed mesmerizing as he continued, “Her mother was a fairy from the West. Fiery one, her.”

I wrapped my arms around my legs, holding my knees tight, and placed my chin there to make a headrest. “Tell me more.” It was all I could do to pay attention to his words, but I was fascinated.

“Her father was a dark elf. When her mother died during childbirth, he left her here in the village. I suppose it was for the best, really, since she can’t fly. The fairies would have tormented her. She’s still a bit of an outcast though…” He was still talking as I struggled to catch up in my head.

I interrupted him, unable to stop myself. “My mother died.” I had no idea why I was speaking. I batted my eyes and tried to shake it off, concentrating on him again.

He seemed to notice I was back and continued his story. I leaned my head on his chest, snuggling into his warmth. My face felt numb. I heard the door and the vibration in Steed’s chest quieted as he stopped talking. I turned my head toward the door, keeping it steady against Steed. Chevelle was furious. I noticed his glance flick to my cloak piled on the floor and then return to us. Us. I was curled in Steed’s lap. Chevelle was storming toward us and I felt the arm Steed had around my back loosen but his body didn’t seem to tense. His body. I giggled a little for no apparent reason and then tried to straighten myself so I wasn’t cuddling with him. Chevelle held his arm out and I wondered foggily if he intended to strike one of us, which made me laugh again. He shook his head and wore a plainly disapproving expression. A flagon landed in his open palm and he knelt slightly in front of us. “Drink.” Yes, I was thirsty. So thirsty. I took a long pull and then another. I couldn’t seem to quench the thirst. He took the container from my hand. “Enough.”

My stomach roiled and I realized what I had drank. “Ugh, cat pee.” I thought I might hurl. How much of that healing crap had I drunk? I heaved once and Steed shook beneath me with laughter. I glanced at him then and he was looking at Chevelle. For some reason it angered me, even though I knew Steed wasn’t laughing at him. I was talking again. “His mother died, too. We killed her.” It sounded so matter of fact, my head bobbed with the words, as if in agreement. I couldn’t seem to stop myself, my mouth opened to speak again but I was suddenly swept up, off Steed’s lap and into Chevelle’s arms. I managed fear for half a second but then lost the feeling to dizziness followed by dull numbness.

He was laying me on my bed. “Stay here. It will pass.” His words were gentle now, the anger gone.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. He didn’t respond. He leaned over me to straighten the bedding and his face was close to mine. I stared at his mouth and wondered what it would taste like. I felt a sharp pain and then realized I was biting my lip. The thought made me giggle again, but his eyes shot to my face and all amusement ceased.

He stroked my cheek lightly. “Sleep.”





My dreams were vivid. Crimson curls brushing my cheek and bouncing as a tiny fairy danced across the floor, flitting her painted fingers. Dark stone houses in the night, the glare of fire glinting off the rock. Massive stones rising high above. Dark leather, tight against my skin. Menacing cloaks flowing in the wind, forming a circle and then massing together, threatening. Black hair glistening with sweat in the moonlight and rolling in rhythm as the horse ran, its mane rocking hypnotically with the motion. Its heavy equine smell, so unlike any other. I was clinging to Chevelle’s strong back as we rode at full speed. The wind and rain cut at my face, my eyes sore, cheeks streaked with tears and ash.