Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(41)

She started to laugh but caught herself, suddenly unsure if I’d been joking. Her wings flicked, shaking silvery dust onto the couch, and then she moved to pick up the mess.

I headed to Ruby’s room to locate a scroll and then stood frozen in the doorway. The entire room was covered in a thick white powder. “What happened?” I managed, choking on fumes even though the dust had long since settled.

“Oh,” Rider said, “that was Ruby.”

I turned to stare at him.

“One of the traps she’d laid before leaving.”

I pointed a thumb over my shoulder, face blank as his words sunk in.

“Yep, that’s the one that got Steed.”

The laugh that escaped morphed into a cough from the vapor and I closed the door without having stepped a foot inside. My eyes were tearing up. No wonder he’d been so angry. “Any chance either of you have a scroll and a quill?”

“Here,” Myst called from the corner, “there are some in this side table.”

I glanced at Chevelle, who had the same irritated expression I imagined I was wearing, and headed toward the table.

Myst stood. “And a jar of ink there.” She pointed toward a row of shelves built into the south wall, where it appeared she had been meddling when she’d knocked down the clay pot. “It’s the blue one.” Nose scrunched, she bent back to her task.

When I pulled a scroll from the drawer, she glanced up at me, eyebrows dancing up and down. “Whatcha writing?”

I narrowed my eyes on her and she smiled sweetly before wiping the remaining goo from the floor.

Sitting in the chair opposite the couch, I slid a small table to me and laid out the scroll. Myst sat the jar of ink beside it without a word and sat across from me, curling her feet under and resting her elbows on a couch pillow in her lap while she watched. It wouldn’t matter, she’d read it as soon as she was out of my sight, but I took the time to glare at her anyway, blowing the bangs out of my eyes as I looked up from the table at her. She didn’t seem to mind, bringing her tiny fists up to rest her chin as she waited. Her soft blue-gray locks fell forward in loose waves and the color reminded me of the sky just before rain. It seemed apt, considering the storm I was about to unleash.

I had the first line down when Ruby came in. Her face was smudged with dust and blood, and fuzzy tendrils of red curled around it where they’d escaped her braid. She stared blankly at the pert blue fairy roosting on her couch, and then at me.

“Is everything well, Ruby?” I asked.

“I’ve done all I can.” She sighed. “I’m going to clean up.”

I nodded, hoping she remembered the explosion of powder waiting in her room.

I was on the last line when Grey came in. I glanced up just in time to see his eyes meet Myst’s. She let out a cat-like “reouw” sound and sat straight up to get a better look at him. Grey, along with the rest of us, simply stared in open shock at her display.

When Ruby appeared from nowhere and leapt at her, Myst only had time to half turn toward her as she collided into the fairy and both rolled across the floor beside me. I heard an oath, recognized it as Grey, and realized he’d joined the fracas, struggling unsuccessfully to pull Ruby from her victim. Another curse flew out as Myst scratched his cheek in an attempt to gouge his eye, and I slowly became aware that I and the remaining members of the guard were simply watching as this bizarre scuffle ensued. Before I was able to react though, Ruby drove her forehead into Myst’s petite nose and flipped her face-first onto the ground. My mouth popped open as Ruby pinned her, pulled Myst’s wrists together behind her back, and leaned forward to whisper into a long, pointed ear.

Whatever she said made Grey flush as red as one of Ruby’s silk scarves and I flashed a look to Chevelle to see if he’d heard. His eyes were on Grey, jaw tight with restraint as he held back laughter.

“Ruby,” I said, staring down at her, “I need this one.”

She nodded, pushing roughly off Myst’s back to stand.

I leaned over the scroll to sign my name, not as Veil and the fey called me, but as Elfreda, Lord of the North. Myst sat up, wiping the blood that ran from her busted nose, and handed me a ribbon and seal.

I rolled the parchment slowly, considering my words. Part bluff, part bravado, part deceit. I could only hope it worked. Veil was no fool, but I had to believe he didn’t want war. There was no other reason to warn me. Well, there was one other reason, but I refused to think of that now that I knew I was tied to Chevelle. It would have to work. I wrapped the ribbon once around the document, attached the seal, and pressed the clasp of my cloak into the clay putty, the molded form of a hawk imprinted as my seal.

Myst leaned forward, blew gently onto the putty, and smiled as it hardened to ceramic. She rolled to her knees, eagerly awaiting her instructions.

“Deliver this to Veil.”

She nodded. “And you’ll get me out of here alive?”

I knew what she meant. Could I get her safely out of Camber? Would these men heed my orders? I didn’t have the slightest idea, but at least she had enough respect not to say it.

I rubbed my face. “You’ll leave with us. It’s the best I can do.”

She pursed her lips, another unspoken question. Where were we going?

“We will keep the balance, that is all that matters. Tell him we planned to return to the castle.”