Pieces of Eight (The Frey Saga, #2)(48)

I looked up, into his eyes, and didn't think before speaking. "I remembered your mother's name. Sapphire." His expression was unreadable, until I added, "Like Ruby."

And then his face changed, as did his entire posture, and he answered me with a voice that was harsh, defensive. "No, not like Ruby."

I pulled back slightly, caught off guard by his response and surprised that I'd even spoken it aloud. He purposefully settled and smoothed his expression. Damn it, why didn't I faint when it was convenient?

"I can't remember," I defended in a voice near a whisper.

His hand lifted to reach out to me but he caught himself.

"I should tell you," he started.

Oh, great, I'd asked for it. I waited for the heavy, feeling my chest constrict as my wide eyes gazed back into his. He took a deep breath of his own.

"You said that you recalled Rune, my father." I nodded, not missing the strain at his last words. "And you know that Asher was lord of the North," he continued, slowly. "So, you understand that, as such, I... we were under his rule."

The tension in my chest sharpened, as if a blade were forced there, and I felt my hand clutch it automatically as his words were absorbed by my ragged mind. I understood that I was backing away from him but couldn't stop myself. My suspicions had been right, he was working for them, they all were. He reached out and, though I flinched away, caught my wrist to hold me in place. For one terrible moment, I felt as if he would hurt me, but I caught myself, because he'd saved me for Asher. My frayed thoughts ran a thousand directions, wrenching me to pieces.

But he did hurt me. Not how I'd expected, not physically, he hurt me with his final words. "Not us, Freya, not my father and myself. We," his other hand gestured between us, "me and you."

Everyone.





Chapter Twelve


Bonds





It had been my last thought before the relief of blackness washed through me. Everyone. When I woke again, it was a painful, all-consuming knowledge. I had no idea how I'd missed it; once the truth was there, I could not understand how I could have been so blind to it. Of course we would have all been under his rule. Everyone, especially me. I mentally shook my head at my lack of insight. Asher had acted as my father, and had been the lord of the North. I was his second.

And Chevelle. His father had been Rune, led to train myself and my mother before me, ordered by my father. Though I had more blank spots than memories, I knew that Rune was a close ally to Asher. Of course, Chevelle would have to have been loyal to Asher.

But no, not loyal. I couldn't be sure where the thought had came from, but I knew it was true. Chevelle had been under his rule, yes, but not loyally. Why couldn't I remember the same of myself? How could I be sure of his allegiance but not my own? And then I remembered the dreams, memories of his tormented body on the ground as his own father tortured him, wearing that malevolent smile. Was that why?

Ruby cleared her throat.

I groaned at her, still raw. She leaned closer and my eyes flinched open automatically.

"Good, you're awake," she cooed.

I glared at her. "What, Ruby?"

"Tell me what you did to Chevelle."

I was startled for a moment and then I shook my head to show my confusion at the accusation.

She grimaced. "Well, he has pushed back our plans and refuses quite sourly to explain why."

I thought back past the raw ache of his closing words and recalled that he had been upset. "Something about his mother," I muttered, deciding not to include the "like Ruby" portion of our conversation.

She eyed me suspiciously. "What did you do, Frey?"

"I don't know," I said honestly and groaned again.

She must have felt sorry for me and my memory loss. "Yes, well, he is likely sensitive about that, if all the stories are true. And they generally are."

I sat up. "What stories?"

She smiled wickedly, relishing the opportunity to yarn one of her fairy tales to an uninformed audience. But as she spoke, her face transformed into utter seriousness and her tone was so low I had to strain to hear. "These stories, though widespread, are not told boldly. It is said that the lord Asher was somehow involved, so to flaunt them would assure death." I felt the slackness of astonishment on my face and she leaned closer. "Sapphire, Chevelle's mother, was much endeared by him, though she was not acknowledged by leadership. She was forced to live outside the kingdom, just as he was required to reside inside the castle, with his father. Rune was a hard man, and Chevelle equally stubborn. Reports of strife began even at a youthful age and the discord only increased with time. Their distaste for each other did not arrive from one particular incident, but it was merely one that achieved the breaking point." My hand rested on my throat as I listened anxiously. "From that moment, Chevelle declared his division from his father by claiming his mother. He intended to go to her and leave the life that had been set before him."

I gasped, shocked by her revelation, but she wasn't finished. "Asher was informed and did not interfere, which was, in itself, highly suspect. But on the day that Chevelle was to depart, he was summoned to the gates." Her expression went cold as she continued, "What he found there was the body of his mother, draped in a royal gown, a lifeless beauty, intact but for her eyes. Those striking, deep blue eyes that so mirrored his own," her voice dropped lower, almost a growl, "cleaved from their sockets."