Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(24)

After that, I had quickly dismissed the meeting and exited the hall. Now I sat perched on top of the castle, watching tiny little bands of the leaders of the realm scurry from the grounds. Even from this height, I could spot Rhys and Rider’s shocks of silvery white hair in the moonlight. It was cold, it was late, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted Chevelle to show, or if I was petrified he’d find me.

He didn’t come.

I fell asleep there, waiting for something happen, or hiding from just that. When I woke, it was full dark, the moon covered by vaporous cloud. I’d been dreaming, an odd one featuring Steed and Ruby. They were flying through the air, drunk on the effects of dust, and she was giggling uncontrollably. It might have been funny, seeing Ruby race through the air, red curls flowing, laughing riotously, if I hadn’t seen the raids as a child.

They would sneak in, hundreds of them, flitting through the castle at incredible speeds. Some of them were nearly too quick to see, except that they never went unnoticed. Chaos and madness were left in their wake. They destroyed, pillaged, ransacked. They set fires, loosed floods, poisoned. They were tiny, sparkling furies, bent on destruction. Asher had nearly declared war, but was finally able to quell the attacks.

I stood, ready to make my way back for warmth and maybe some food, and was thrown forward, almost knocked from my perch. I grabbed a stone pillar and fell back into a squat, looking behind me before jumping down to the roof. It might have been a strong gust of wind. If it hadn’t giggled.

As soon as I saw the sky was clear, I leapt from the roof, into the window, and ran the corridors full speed. It hadn’t been a dream. That meant they’d been here too long already.

A dull thump and a scraping noise echoed through the halls from far off. The torches came alive, flames flaring at full heat. A half dozen more steps and I rounded a corner, meeting Grey, who was heading for me at what had to be his own top speed. Where were they?

“East wing,” he said, answering my thought.

They’d sent Grey because he was the fastest. At the atrium outside of the east wing, Chevelle and Steed joined us. Chevelle’s right side was splattered with blood and glitter. Steed looked as if he might be sick.

“Where is Ruby?” I asked, frantic. Steed glanced toward the clamor. “They will take her!” I shouted. It appeared they’d not even considered the danger.

Chevelle nodded, but I could see his concern lay elsewhere.

I stared down Steed and Grey. “Do not leave her side.”

Grey was gone before I’d finished speaking, but we were right behind him. We followed the clatter of metal and chirping, bubbly laughter to the great hall.

It appeared to have exploded. The furniture was in splinters, pieces of wall and ceiling lay in piles of rubble, the stones of which were being lobbed about blissfully by several small gray fey. Their feathers were wet, as was about half the room, which was scattered with patches of ice and puddles of water.

The tapestries were set to a slow burn, which no one seemed to think significant enough to put out. Given that there were at least a dozen other fairies here who could set even the stone ablaze, I could understand the decision. Anvil had taken to electrocuting a couple of water sprites, which the lilac-skinned Flora and Virtue considered uproarious. They floated above the scene, rolling in the air with laughter.

Rider was cornered by a waiflike winter sprite and two frost monsters were hovering above Rhys, trying to get a hand on his staff. The room hummed with the beat of so many wings and stank of sulfur and spring violets.

“I hate fairies.” My voice was surprisingly even.

“Hear, hear,” Ruby whispered, catching my eye as she stood behind Steed and Grey midway across the hall.

I drew my sword, grateful I’d stayed in my fighting attire from the evening’s meeting. I would have to be careful bandying around magic in a room full of fey. They had a bad habit of affecting energy in unusual ways, and I was barely in control of it myself. I sincerely hoped, once again, that Finn and Keaton had a plan to help me channel it.

“Pretty, pretty,” a frost monster murmured to Rhys’ staff.

“Anvil,” I said with as much calm as I could muster. He ceased transmitting the current toward the water sprites and they shuddered, jerked, and dropped to the floor. They were trembling and muttering incoherently, but their audience became bored.

I stepped in before they found another attraction. “Flora, why have you come?”

Twin amethyst jewels gleamed at me, and I had to focus not to get lost there. Her smile was stunning, though I knew she mocked me. The heliotropes had something very near hypnosis if they could catch you. Her lips were thin, a muted pink against the pale lilac of the rest of her. She wore but a scrap of clothing, revealing the tiny feather-like strokes of mauve covering her body.

Her only response was to purr.

I looked at Virtue. She raised a violet brow.

“Why?”

“You will see, lov-el-y,” she taunted, dragging her words out. “You. Will. See.”

I stepped forward, sword at the ready. Virtue was more of a soft lavender with the markings of a cheetah. I’d always heard her belly faded to white. Looking at her now, I doubted anyone had actually gotten close enough to find out. She wore the full armor of a warrior fey and a smile that promised to devour you.

“He comes,” whispered a soft voice from behind the walls.

“He comes,” repeated the gray-feathered fiends, forgetting their game of stone-throwing to watch the large hole where the window used to be.