Frey (The Frey Saga, #1)(55)

Ruby saw me watching after him. “He’s right, Freya. Rest now. Plenty of time to get you straightened back out.” She stood and walked to the front wall. I hadn’t noticed before, probably because it was so small, but there was a narrow window, almost a peephole there. Ruby positioned herself in front of it, watching whatever was outside.

I sighed. Plenty of time. I fiddled with the blankets for a few minutes, tried a couple of times (futilely) to move tiny specks of loose rock on the floor, and then gave up and decided to read the journal again. I rolled away from Ruby and pulled my pack into the curve of my body, settling the book open but able to be quickly hidden away if needed.





This morning, I extended my spell, giving Rune an extra day of sleep. It was a good thing, too. I found the camp right off and followed the tracks easily. They initially must have ran in panic but then gathered back together and walked in a line, some two by two, some dragging sleds. They made temporary shelter in a cave, likely for just one night, and continued again. They must have moved slowly, and I could see they stopped often to rest. It didn’t take long before I’d found their new camp. I slipped into a tall tree to watch them. To my absolute shock, I found something I had never seen before. I watched for hours before I was sure, too stunned to believe it possible. I had heard stories, the fairies were always blowing off, but I never actually believed it to be true. Was I really watching humans?





I stopped reading, confused. Humans weren’t real. What kind of book was this? She had mentioned fairies’ stories. I wondered if this was fiction, a fairy ruse, given to Chevelle by Ruby. Or maybe the dust was still playing havoc on me. I glanced over my shoulder at Ruby, still watching anxiously out the front window. I shook my head as I continued…





But I couldn’t deny it. Their size was about that of an elf, but all were different. The men were thicker. Not necessarily with muscle, some more bulbous. The women were varied as well, some thin and wiry, some stout like the males. Their hair was in all shades of the fairies’, light blond like the sun, brown as the trees, one even had rusty red, his plump cheeks peppered with light brown spots. And there were so many children! They were loud and ran round the camp all afternoon. And they just as varied as the adults. I examined their wide noses, rounded ears, and stubby fingers. Those that wore no shoes had short, thick toes like trolls! The men had patches of hair curled on their chests and forearms and some even grew it around their chins like goats. Their clothes were tattered and ill-fitting rags. They moved about the camp slowly, clearly no magic and definitely the owners of the crude tools we had found. They spoke to each other often, their voices like the protest of an old hound. I watched until nightfall, when they settled into tents and lean-tos. They seemed to assign a watchman, wielding only a torch lit from the central fire. I slipped down from the tree and returned to the castle. I am dying to see what I can find of them in the books of Father’s study.





Laughter broke my concentration. Anvil and Grey were back. I looked to the front wall but Ruby was gone, moved to the entrance of our room. She seemed to be waiting there excitedly for something. I slid the book into the pack and sat up to watch.

Chevelle came in and Ruby greeted him. “It’s fantastic.” He smiled at her.

Steed was following. “Almost unbelievable,” he added as he shot me a peculiar look.

They turned to me as Rhys and Rider entered, who didn’t approach but stopped just inside the room and dipped into a bow. “Our gratitude, Elfreda.”

I blushed. I had forgotten the wolves, they must have found them. “Were they hurt?”

“No. And our thanks to you for that as well.”

I wasn’t exactly sure how that was due to me but I smiled, glad they had somehow found them and everyone was safe. They turned to leave and Grey entered with two spits of meat and wine. It almost seemed like a celebration. Almost. Their high spirits hadn’t quite returned from before. I wondered how long I had been out.

The wine flowed. Steed took some food to Anvil, Grey and Ruby made their way to the front window, and I found myself sitting alone with Chevelle.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Better. And worse.” Better because the dust was clearing. Worse because I was fuzzy again, bound.

He nodded. I hadn’t noticed him moving but he was closer now, sitting opposite me. He reached out and took my hand in his, turning it over, palm up. He placed a small pebble there. “Can you do anything with this?”

“No.” Frustration was clear in my voice, I had already tried.

“And no fire?”

“No.”

“So, nothing works?” The implication was there but I didn’t know what it meant right away. And then it occurred to me, the horse. I had thought it had shown up because I impressed upon it to follow us before I blacked out, but I had already been bound again at that point. Should I tell him? I didn’t know why I felt so protective of this secret.

He drew a section of moss to us from one of the stones on the wall and it replaced the pebble. “Try this. They shouldn’t have bothered binding you from growing.”

I concentrated on it. Nothing. But I was never good at that anyway. I shook my head.

He nodded, giving up, but our hands still lay together, connecting us. “Where are they now?” I asked.