Pieces of Eight (The Frey Saga, #2)(27)

And then I remembered myself. It wasn't my body being assailed. The realization eased the alarm that was building and a new plan formed. I jumped to the mind of the other bird but the second I hit, the tension increased tenfold. The shock threw me back to my mind and my own body jerked in response. I was just trying to breathe but I drew in a gasp as my head snapped up to find her in the sky.

"Frey!" I heard Ruby and I was instantly annoyed. The moment the anger had switched to irritation, I realized I wasn't actually in danger.

I was incensed, however. My eyes narrowed on her in the blue but before I could pluck her head from her neck, both birds dropped from the sky. I watched them as they plummeted, finally landing with a dry thud on the ground. I had expected a softer landing somehow.

I shook my head as I turned to look at the others, who were waiting for an explanation.

"Frey?" Chevelle asked.

I sighed. "I was just up there," I pointed to the sky for unnecessary emphasis, "and I was flipping mugged."

"That's all?"

"No." I hesitated but it was almost pointless now, they knew so much. "There was someone there. Fannie, I think."

The group was suddenly in an uproar, confusion and anger eddied around me. I was bewildered. I interrupted the commotion. "Wait, if you didn't know it was her, why did you drop them?" I asked, indicating the lifeless bodies on the ground.

"I told you, all of them," Anvil directed at Chevelle, almost with a grin, I was sure.

Chevelle nodded in assent as he looked at me. "No more birds."

He was telling me I couldn't fly? I was beside myself. "Why?"

"We only left them for you," he said with a hint of regret in his voice. It took a moment before I understood. They had been killing all the animals, left nothing but the birds. He wasn't asking me to give up them up, he was informing the others to destroy them.

Fannie hadn't hurt me, she'd only really irritated me. But now, she'd gotten my birds taken away. I suppressed a growl.





I saw Chevelle and the others visually sweep our surroundings as they set off again. I just sat, staring at them. One of them must have noticed because my horse unexpectedly took off, nearly tossing me from my saddle with an abrupt start before joining the group. I had to restrain myself from riding with my arms crossed in a defiant glower.

Anvil was riding beside me, very nearly smiling at my scowl, and by some means I felt slightly less irritated. I couldn't fathom his effect on me. He was in some of the few memories I had recovered after the battle with council. I could see him there, his magnetism strong even in a faded recollection.

"You feel familiar with the hawk?"

The question threw me, I found myself stuttering out a nod. He smiled and I tried not to think of the dreams I'd had, burning his tongue, the hawk tearing it out.

"You will be with him again." He inclined his head slightly as he clicked his heels and joined the front of the pack.

I was weirded out the rest of the day. It was still bothering me when I fell asleep, which was probably what brought on the dream.

I was engulfed in blackness again, my memories not clear enough for details like walls and temperature. It was as if a light were emanating from the center of my focus. Only that small space was comprehensible, the rest only vague outlines and sensations. I could see the large dark man with the scar and I could feel my hatred toward him. He was focused not on me, but on something else, a strange shapeless lump just beyond my clarity. I didn't know why, but the lump meant something to me. I concentrated on the dark man's face, the way only a dream can manipulate your attention, and grasped the detail that made the difference: there was no scar, not yet. I knew it was coming though, the source of the wound, when out of the periphery came a blinding strike. The shot was partially deflected by the large man but caught his brow and his previously smug face became enraged. I felt my chest swell just as I heard the laughing response and, though I woke before I could see his massive frame, I knew it came from Anvil.





I woke short of breath, the way I felt when I was violently roused from the battle dreams. I immediately surveyed my surroundings, not surprised to find them looking at me with concern. I attempted a weak smile and most of them returned to their tasks.

I wasn't usually awake as early as they were, so breakfast generally came just before I jumped on my horse to catch up and sometimes even after we were riding, but the dream had given me freshly cooked meat. We sat scattered on the rocks surrounding the camp when Ruby inquired about my start.

"A dream," I answered. I watched Anvil, only a few feet away, as I recalled the dream and almost without realizing it, I remembered the dark man's name.

I was speaking before I was entirely aware of what I was saying. "It was Anvil. And Rune." I heard a peculiar noise and my eyes flicked to Chevelle, whose face had drained of all color. My chest constricted, though I wasn't sure exactly what I'd said wrong. No one spoke.

I could feel the flush in my cheeks, I opened my mouth but nothing came out. There was nothing to say, I didn't know why he was staring at me like... like what?

Finally, Anvil broke the silence. "Ah, my little Freya has been dreaming of me." It was apparent he was going for humor but no one laughed. He cautiously stood and after a moment Chevelle turned and left the group. My eyes shifted to Anvil, questioning. He forced a smile but said nothing as he walked past me to his horse. I followed as the others mounted their own.