Frey (The Frey Saga, #1)(19)

He reached a hand up and brushed my hair behind an ear. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I will see you again.”

I smiled a little and he winked at me. Chevelle stiffened at my side as he often did when Steed touched me so casually and I couldn’t help but think of being alone with him after tonight. My stomach tightened and suddenly in comparison the mountains didn’t seem like such a big deal.

The next morning Steed said goodbye privately to Chevelle and then both came to where I stood with the horses, stroking one’s neck. “You’ll remember me, Butterfly?”

“Always,” I smiled in return.

“Yes, well, at least as long as he’s yours.” He patted the horse.

“Mine?”

He smiled and swung onto his horse, nodding to us as he spun and galloped east.

My horse knelt and Chevelle offered his hand to help me get seated. My grin widened as he mounted his horse and he looked back at me questioningly.

“I’ll name him Steed,” I announced proudly. Chevelle rolled his eyes as I patted the horse’s neck.





Chapter Eight


Mountains





We rode quietly through the morning hours. Chevelle seemed content not to talk but I was twisted up in anguish trying to decide whether I was brave enough to ask him questions and then which to ask. How much would he put up with before he called it all off and hauled me back to the village for sentencing? Our path began to get more defined, pushing us through trees and between rocks, trailing upward so minutely I didn’t even realize until I glanced back and saw we were now looking down on the base of the mountains. I appraised the narrow path ahead, snaking high through the vast rocky mountain, and turning back didn’t seem so bad after all. I clenched my fists and pushed out the question I’d been most concerned about asking but I was so tied up it twisted into an accusation. “Watcher.”

My face flushed red with embarrassment and fear as the word came out harsh. He spun to see me and I could not place the expression on his face.

I panicked, and then I tried to recover. “You’re my watcher.” It still sounded angry. “Why?”

He hesitated. “Frey…” His voice was gentle and he seemed to be searching for a way to answer. He must have decided I had no right to anger. His face turned hard and his tone formal, “The council was concerned after you tried to choke Evelyn of Rothegarr.”





I gasped. “What are you talking about?” I was completely taken aback but the shock was quickly turning to anger. I was offended; did he really think I choked Evelyn? I remembered the speaker, his face as he struggled for air… I thought of the thistle I’d grown in the back room at Junnie’s… Evelyn’s face as she ran from the garden. I swayed; my eyes went out of focus. I didn’t even realize I was falling until I felt Chevelle’s arms around me; he was quick, catching me before the rocks did.

He was kneeling, one arm around me, my back against his leg as he bent over me. “I’m sorry Freya. I thought… how could you not know?”

Embarrassment flooded through me. He was right, and not only had I wished her to choke, I was too stupid to see I had caused it, just as I had caused the speaker to choke. I squeezed my eyes closed tight with shame and rolled away from him, curling onto a rock. He didn’t speak but I heard him step away, unsaddle the horses, and settle onto a rock several feet away. We were both still until nightfall, when he retrieved a blanket from the pack and laid it over me. I didn’t thank him, fearing what would come out if I spoke.





The next morning, we were both quiet as Chevelle saddled our horses. I had plenty to think of besides the questions that had seemed so important the previous day.

I’d been convicted of practicing dark magic. I had thought it was a mistake.

The images rolled through my mind as we continued up the mountain. The lifeless body of a small gray bird. A garden of weeds with roots as black as soot. The faces of council as their speaker struggled to breathe. A thistle growing in Evelyn’s throat, slowly choking off her airway. Chevelle’s face when he had asked who showed me to fuse the crystal with blood. His expression as he looked down at me yesterday… how could you not know? That image had haunted me the most. It seemed so familiar somehow. He’d let his guard down, and though strained with worry and fear, there was something else there, sadness or maybe just plain sympathy.

“This is a good place to stop for the night.” Chevelle’s voice broke my reverie. I hadn’t noticed the entire day had passed. I glanced at the path behind us and could see the lake below in the distance. It shook me from my stupor.

I climbed down from my horse and sat on the trunk of a fallen tree facing the mountain top instead of the view below, preferring not to concentrate on the distance or height. I watched Chevelle lead the horses to a large tree several yards away where he spun his hand and formed a trough from bark and tinder on the ground. I didn’t see where the water came from, but it filled and the horses drank from it as he spun his wrist and grass from the sparse patches here and there collected in front of them. Movement caught my eye and I looked to Chevelle in alarm. Though he appeared calm, he was staring in the same direction. I studied the black mass that was approaching him. It was a dark cloak, moving very fast. The full cape covered every part of whoever it was, a large hood shielding their face.