Pieces of Eight (The Frey Saga, #2)(53)

Maybe it was the anticipation of battle that had sharpened my mind, maybe it was Asher's presence, maybe I'd been so blind to it all along because I didn't want to face it, but it was all there now. I felt defeated, not just at the information or the ties that held a share of my magic and mind, but because we were defeated. My guard stood frozen because they, too, knew that they could not defeat Asher. He was too powerful for any of us, possibly too powerful for all of us, and his guard stood before him.

I glanced at each of them again. Separately they could be overcome. Their confidence came not from an assurance that they could top any of us, but that they didn't need to. As illustrated by the brief encounter outside, my guard was not easily conquered. If not for Asher, they would overwhelm this impressive group nearly as quickly. But there was Asher, and he watched me as I considered, knowing he had me, knowing I'd find no way out.

He'd take me in, use me to regain his rule. He would succeed. Many of the council were already dead, and he would finish it. I could feel the memories tugging at me and I knew he would be a cruel leader. He would exploit my ability, continue to make new offspring in hopes of gaining a more unique power. He would slowly steal those that were dear to me. Chevelle. Ruby. All of them.

He was quicker and more powerful than any of us. A move against him would be instant death, I knew that. We all did. And yet my guard stood with me, as if there were a chance. It was so sad. Did they have so much faith in me? What was I but a pawn in Asher's game, what could I do but—

I stopped cold. I felt the smile crawl from one side of my lips to the other. I had the pleasure of seeing confusion cross Asher's face before I closed my eyes and sank, deep and swiftly into the mind of the small, brown-eyed girl at his feet. He had protected himself from us, but not from her. Not from the piteous human. Her hand sped neatly to the sheath at his waist and in one shrewd move plunged the dagger into his heart.

The woman's scream threw me back to my own mind and my eyes flicked open in time to see chaos. I was standing in the middle of a war, staring at Asher's body, which had landed in the trembling, bloodied hands of the fragile woman. She stared at him, her mouth still open but silent. I gazed into his eyes and knew that he was proud. Somehow, he was in awe of me, that I had defeated him. He'd been foolish to forget the human, he'd thought her insignificant, and he hadn't protected himself from her. He smiled at me and then his mouth moved in a silent chant.

As the life slipped from his body, I felt sudden, intense pain in my own. It became excruciating and I nearly lost the capacity to breathe, but it crested and then I felt the icy heat of power rush through me. It wasn't solely my energy coursing through me. I could feel Asher, the strength of his line, the depth of his magic, the power that allowed his rule. I was overwhelmed, a torrent of violence and pleasure swept through me, almost knocking me from my feet. A deluge of memories, thoughts, and emotions followed, flowing together and joining with the agony and bliss.

And then the storm was over. I had my mind back. And, though the conflict remained, it was not the painful tumult it had been, it was two sets of ideas, as if I were merely undecided. I looked around, disoriented.

I saw bodies strewn on the ground around me. Actually, not around me. There was a circle of clear floor where I stood, it seemed to be the only area not destroyed. The downed bodies were my guard. No, Asher's guard. The blank, dead stare of Eris stared back at me from the ground as blood leaked slowly from the corner of his mouth. I had liked Eris. A few feet beside him, in what might be two separate pieces, was Domnal. Three of the bodies were burned beyond identification. Near the back wall, I saw Cleve, his form intact but lifeless nonetheless. I wondered if Dunn was among them, and Aren.

And then I saw Anvil, kneeling in what I feared was injury. It was not. He was saluting me silently. I found a smile for him. I continued scanning the room and bristled for a moment when I saw a fairy, but it was Ruby. My Ruby. She seemed to be smoldering, I nearly shook my head in disbelief but resisted. Rhys and Rider watched me from behind her, their robes in tatters, and I nodded my respect. Sitting proud in front of them were my old friends, Finn and Keaton. I smiled at their knowing eyes, trimmed in a beautiful silver fur. And there was the handsome Steed, clearly staggered as he stared back at me. I gave him a quick wink before I searched for who else had been left standing. Grey. Yes, he was undamaged. And beside me, though a few paces back, I found Chevelle's eyes scrutinizing me.

Chevelle. I knew him in both sets of memories. And now I was tied to him.

I quickly looked away and found Asher, still lying in the arms of the human. I took a step forward and she gave a little whimper as she jerked a hand over to protect her stomach. I sighed. All the time I had spent wishing to get my memory back, I had known. Somewhere, in the mess of my mind, I'd understood that acquiring the magic and memories would not automatically release me from the difficulties of my life. That was the third thing I’d been certain of.

But I wasn't Freya anymore. I was Elfreda, Lord of the North.