Frey (The Frey Saga, #1)(15)

“Come then, there’s plenty for both of us.”

Damn. I walked cautiously out of the trees as he turned to me. He tossed the cloak aside and stood proud, his right leg propped up on a rock as if posing. He gestured to a large log beside the fire and I sat obediently. Too late to hide; might as well enjoy the feast.

He reached down and tore a hunk of meat from the spit and tossed it to me, winking as I caught it. I flushed and he smiled a wicked smile. He was tall and broad with dark hair and eyes. Like Chevelle. Handsome too, I supposed, though I could tell from the first few moments he was a little cocky. He reminded me of Evelyn, always so proud of herself for finding me out.

He watched me as I ate. I realized I had devoured the large piece in no time, I hoped I looked appropriately abashed as he laughed and threw me another chunk. As I finished the second serving, he stepped closer and sat on a rock beside me. He held his hand out to the side and a canteen flew up from a pile of things on the other side of the fire. He passed it to me, still smiling, and I tilted it back, expecting cool water. I almost choked when warm wine hit my throat. He laughed again, leaning forward as I lowered the container.

He was uncomfortably close and was eyeing me with what I was certain was the same look I'd just given my meal. I figured he'd sensed my discomfort when he started to move, but he just stood, which brought him even closer. Well, parts of him. I turned toward the fire.

I jumped a little when the first tree uprooted across the clearing. He laughed as the second and third followed.

“You look like you’ll need shelter, Sunshine.”

I stared at him in disbelief as the trees split and began forming a hut. He was laughing again as he shot me another wink, I couldn’t be sure he was kidding. As the tearing and slamming noises ceased, I examined the hut. Quite impressive really. He didn’t even seem to be watching, let alone concentrating. And no blessings on it, no thanks to Mother Earth. It seemed he was just enjoying himself, not being responsible to the magic. Magic. Yes, he was very good with magic. I started to open my mouth and then stopped. I had no idea who this was and I probably shouldn’t let him know who I was.

He’d noticed my open mouth, blank expression, and sat again, eyeing me questioningly, all humor gone.

“You seem to be really good at magic.” I was almost mumbling.

He laughed. “Is that so?”

“Yes, well, I… I need to learn,” I said timidly.

“Learn?” The humor was gone again. “What do you mean learn?”

“I’ve never learned, well, except for fire, and I need to learn… someone to teach me… and you’re…” I was in danger of rambling.

He was looking at me as if I had just professed cannibalism.

“I’ll need food and… well, and shelter.”

“I don’t understand…” He appeared concerned, like I might have been mentally ill.

“I’ve lost my mentor. Can you teach me magic? Help me, so I don’t do something out of order, hurt myself?”

His eyebrows drew together as he began to reply.

A branch snapped at the edge of the clearing and his head turned instantly. I sucked in a harsh breath as I saw Chevelle walking toward us. The elf that had been sitting with me, jovial since I’d met him, was now in a fiercely protective stance in front of me. I leaned around him to see, placing my hand on his leg as I angled my head past it. That broke his stare and he looked down at me. I watched Chevelle, still walking toward us, casual, as if there weren’t two angry panthers preparing to pounce on him. I must have appeared about as threatening as a mad kitten because the leg I was gripping shook a little with laughter. I turned my angry gaze on him and he raised his hands in surrender, still laughing quietly.

“I take it you know him?” he asked.

“He’s following me,” I announced loudly.

His eyes were concerned for a moment so I relaxed my anger and stood behind him. Chevelle approached us and looked directly at me, ignoring the large elf between us. He seemed for one half second irritated then relieved before his features melted back into the standard polite sternness. I started to berate him for being my watcher but then I remembered I was on the run. I remembered the elf in front of me; I remembered and decided to keep my mouth shut about everything.

A large arm wrapped around my shoulder and drew me forward. “Introduce us, Buttercup.” I grimaced. He was certainly enjoying himself.

Chevelle held his hand out in a formal greeting. “Chevelle Vattier.”

“Vattier, eh?” I thought I heard him under his breath, “well you can call me Bonnie Bell.” Chevelle waited unmoved for his response. He finally held his hand out in return, “Steed. Steed Summit.”

They both shot me a disbelieving glare as a giggle slipped out. Of course that was his name. I struggled to stay composed. At least I finally knew someone with a cornier name than mine.

I realized he was still staring at me. He didn’t seem to think it was funny at all. “Our lineage is long and we breed the best stallions in the land.”

Chevelle spoke up as if he had been the intended recipient of the comment. “Yes, I have heard much regarding the lines of Free Runner and Grand Spirit. Tell me, is that what brings you out this far?”

They carried on the exchange and Chevelle explained we’d be needing horses. Great, so that’s it, huh? Going back to the village. Sentence by council. Plans were made for a trade, Steed would bring in the herd and we would choose in the morning. They kept talking, settling into conversation. Steed offered Chevelle what was left of the roast and they sat, Chevelle beside me and Steed across from us, forming a triangle. I picked up the canteen and choked down more wine.