Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(27)

The handful of fey that remained were airborne, alternately lunging toward Ruby and then feigning back at her strike.

“Bring them down,” I commanded, surprised at my own vehemence. “I want this over with.”

My guard responded by surrounding Ruby in a large, loose circle. They watched the air as two russet fey dived simultaneously. Grey struck one with a miniscule amount of energy, causing it to bounce into the flight path of the second. Off guard, the second was caught by Ruby’s whip and slung to the ground by an ankle. Steed sliced its throat. Recovered, the first tried to rebound but was speared through the chest by Rider.

One of the remaining watchers screeched and three others flew wide in a sudden attack on me. I blasted them from the air, hoping they’d not have time to feed off my power, and Chevelle leapt over one and slammed into another, who had already been rising. The few that were left had apparently been driven to madness by their defeat, because they were frantically darting around the room, high-pitched bird-like screams and hisses trailing behind.

Steed began to drop stones from the ceiling, which finally brought them low enough to be caught. Spitting venom and cursing, they fought resembling cats, claws and all. At last, the room was silent. I glanced around, incredulous at the destruction. Pools of water and blood stood on the dismantled stone floor, the furnishings were scattered shards of wood and metal. Bits of wing littered the ground like so much confetti. My gaze caught as it came across the strange pale scraps covering the floor near the back wall where Rhys had stood. It appeared he’d found a way to deal with the frost monsters. I felt a shiver and turned to the others, who also seemed to be in various stages of shock and post-combat unrest.

“Steed, take Ruby to her room. Bar the door.”

He snapped out of his stupor quick enough.

“Grey, Rhys, Rider, search the castle. I don’t want to find any strays later by accident.”

They didn’t waste any time either, which left three of us alone.

I turned to Anvil. “How did they get here so fast?”

He shook his head. “It isn’t impossible, but they likely discovered your decision on the way.”

“So, why were they coming?”

“To celebrate your return?” he offered.

I scoffed.

“It is possible he has heard of the attempts.”

“I agree.” I bit my lip, considering. “See what you can find out.”

“Indeed,” he said, touching his fist to his chest.

Chevelle and I stared after him, remembering the bloody battle and the proposal by Veil.

“When this is over...” he growled.

“I know,” I answered. War.





Chapter Fourteen


Prisoner





For as long as I could remember, even during those times I couldn’t remember, I’d had one thought, one obsession: If I could just overcome this one insurmountable obstacle, then things would be bearable.

But my whole life had been a series of those hurdles, and each time I crossed one, each time I broke through a barrier, there was nothing but another on the other side. A chasm, a mountain, one more impossible challenge. As I stood there with Chevelle, wanting only to right the council’s wrong, to avenge my mother and my kingdom and be done with it, I could see nothing but more problems on the horizon.

I pulled the necklace from my belt and stared at the pendant beside my mother’s. It was a long spike, formed by four smaller twisted strands. It was an odd sensation, as two of the strands were cold, the other two warm, but I didn’t think it was charmed as I’d feared at first. What had Veil meant by it? There was no question the fey were tricksters, but they were clever as well. This was no simple gift, but had he meant it for a warning, or a promise? He’d seemed sincere in his proposal, though he hadn’t given the pendant until I’d declined his offer.

I couldn’t blame Veil for the others, for all that had happened, but I couldn’t entirely trust him either. Between the lot of them, they’d invaded my home, insulted my second, and attempted to steal my guard. And who knew what the ones we hadn’t seen were doing.

I glanced at Chevelle who seemed to have his anger under rein now. “We should probably help the others.”

He moved to place his hand at my lower back as we started for the corridor, but stopped just short of touching me. I pretended not to notice.

The halls were a quiet mess. The staff tended to stay in their rooms during a fairy raid, so the corridors were empty aside from the fabric, beads, broken furnishings, and occasional foodstuffs scattering the floors. We came across a door covered in ivies, another painted with profanities, and a third busted through. Oddly enough, the libraries were intact.

“Wouldn’t want to destroy those, they might need to borrow a book,” I muttered.

At the end of another hall, right before the entrance to the kitchens, was a large T-wall. I stood staring, for a long moment, at what appeared to be a portrait of the new lord of the north. Naked. It was plainly a hurried job, but all the important parts were there. I turned to Chevelle, but couldn’t decide whether he was trying to conceal a grimace or smile. I took the time to glare at him before moving on, just in case.

Hurried footsteps caught up with me shortly, but they were delayed enough that I knew he’d taken care of the graffiti.