Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(45)

My hands were still wet from lifting her matted curls from the muddy floor. There would be blood on them. Not hers. The lifeblood of the men and women of Camber.

I started when something brushed my arm, but quickly relaxed when the warmth of a familiar hand settled onto the small of my back. I gave Ruby one more moment before turning my gaze to Chevelle beside me.

His deep blue eyes were intense, questioning and comforting at the same time. We had done it, we had crushed this one obstacle. We had avenged my mother, the north. But it had cost us. I stared back at him, hoping to convey my answers, to offer him some comfort in return, and he reached up to place his palm against my cheek. I closed my eyes, breathed deep for the first time since the battle, and felt the last of the trembling in my limbs subside.

When I opened my eyes again, Chevelle slid his hand free, covertly brushing the damp from my cheek, and we turned to survey the damage.

River Temple lay in ruin. Half of the columns were rubble. The rest were covered in ivies as the council members had tried to elevate themselves above the flood waters. Patches of floor had dried from the winds, dust and blood leaving rust-colored stains. In a matter of weeks, the damage would look centuries old.

Several men were climbing over the remains of the balcony where it lay on the ground, searching the dead. I didn’t need to check, their faces were seared into my memory. What I was concerned about, however, was our men. From our position at the front of the line, we hadn’t been able to see who’d been injured.

I scanned the area, surprised to find that most of the wounded were already being tended. A few of the Camber warriors were limping or bloodied, but the majority of them appeared well. They had taken their place among the front, but council had targeted the townspeople anyway. I tried not to count as I watched them being carried away, but I couldn’t help it. Fourteen dead.

And Camren among them.

We approached the marble tablet where Bayrd and Emeline were cleaning up the injured.

Bayrd looked up from his work. “Lord Freya.” He dipped his head respectfully, causing his patient to flinch as he pulled against the stitches. He smirked before deference fell back in place to address Chevelle. “Excellent battle.”

I glanced at Chevelle, but he didn’t seem as surprised as I was to find them in such good spirits.

The large, leather-clad elf beside him called out as Emeline set his shoulder back in place. “There you are, good as new,” she promised. He didn’t appear to believe her, but he stood, shrugged his shoulders twice, and dipped his head toward Chevelle and me before leaving.

Emeline turned to us. “That about finishes things up here.” She glanced toward the clearing the warriors had made. “Except for the ceremony.”

Bayrd tightened his last stitch.

“I’d like a messenger to notify the villagers. Some of them will have family here,” I said.

Emeline nodded. “Merek will go. He’s a fast rider.” She eyed the afternoon sky. “Likely he could make the rounds before dawn.”

“Thank you,” I said.

She smiled. “Lord Freya.”

Emeline brushed past me, and by the time I’d turned around, Merek was mounted and kicking a slender black stallion up to running.

All evidently taken care of, we went to find Ruby.

The task was easier than expected, because we could hear her fighting with Grey before we took the first step into the forest.

“I said I was fine,” she argued in a raspy voice. The declaration was punctuated by the sound of her slapping his ministrations away.

There was a sharp gasp as he ignored her assertions and pressed against a wound. And then a low curse from Grey as she retaliated.

We came through the trees to find Anvil sitting on a stump laughing while a grim-faced Steed attempted to hold her still.

“Touch me one more time,” she warned the both of them, “and you will pay.”

Grey held out a finger, considering, and she narrowed her gaze on him. Steed’s mouth screwed up as he waited, clearly reassessing his position.

“Ruby,” I cut in, “are you well?”

She shrugged Steed’s hands free. “Yes. Quite.”

I felt my chest ease a bit, though she still looked a little pale. I glanced at Grey who, while annoyed, no longer seemed fearful.

“Great,” I said. “Clean yourself up. We’ve got a ceremony to attend.”

She smiled sincerely at being discharged, and then smirked at Steed before turning an eyebrow up at Grey, daring him to challenge her.

Anvil laughed again.





The ceremony was completed as the sun fell beneath the horizon. We stood in full dress as the flames licked the air and trailed smoke into the twilight sky. The others would see it. The families of the council members would know we had lost as well. But there would be nothing left but ash.

As I watched the fire dance, I could not help but think of my mother. She had burned with no honor. But I could lay her to rest now. When the blaze subsided, I could let this go. This battle was over. The fire that had haunted me for so long would be gone.

I closed my eyes and breathed deep, letting the sharp scent of night flowers on the wind cut through the last of the acrid smoke. But it was only the briefest reprieve, because when I opened them again, I saw a warning flicker among the trees.

I felt my jaw tighten, but held fast. It would wait. We would see the ceremony through.