Frey (The Frey Saga, #1)(21)

“Afraid?” I asked doubtful. “Afraid of what?”

“The mountains.” Junnie’s answer was curt. She returned to her work on the gazelle.





They were quiet the rest of the evening. As I dozed off by the fire I heard them start a conversation in hushed voices. I tried to listen but exhaustion was winning out and their words began to meld into dreams. I could hear them as I was drifting, floating in a large dark lake. I wore a white gown that spread out around me in the water, my now dark hair bobbing with the ripples. I rose above, peering down at myself, and the image turned to my mother, the dark water turned black, the ripples turned to wind. I recognized the scene and as her pendant began to glow the wind howled and the screams pierced my ears. It was the same dream, but different now. I glanced around and saw a village I didn’t know. Someone was coming toward me, an expression of fear and sadness on his handsome face. His familiar face. He reached out to me and I stepped toward him, tears streaming down my cheeks. He wrapped his arms around me as I turned again to see my mother. A howl of rage escaped her and I started to go to her but he held me. He was restraining me; I thrashed against him as I tried to scream, to tell him to let me go, but I had no voice. She reached her hand out and I could not move, could not help her, though I knew she was dying. I was imprisoned there, unable to move… unable to scream… unable to save her. And then I couldn't see her, something was covering my eyes. I struggled yet again but my body felt like lead, cold, heavy, useless limbs. And no voice. Darkness enveloped me and I was under water, struggling to reach the surface, desperate for air.

“Frey.” A husky voice woke me. It must have been early dawn. The faint light revealed worry on Chevelle’s face as he stood over me. A look of fear and sympathy. The memory smashed into my chest like a thousand-pound ram, stealing my breath.

“You,” I hissed. He backed away as I sat up and glared at him with fire in my eyes. “You. You… held me back… as my mother died… you held me and made me watch her die.” I could almost taste the acid in my voice. He was still backing away, holding his hands in front of him palms out. A wordless hiss escaped my throat as I felt the fire coursing through me and light in my hands. He would burn for this. Burn. I was standing now, walking step for step toward him as he backed away. He said nothing, his face was calm as the fire flared and I raised my hands to strike.

And then everything went black.

I heard the chanting now. My ears had been roaring with anger but all that was left was quiet and a soft recitation, “Gian Zet Foria. Gian Zet Foria. Gian Zet Foria.” Junnie. Junnie was chanting something. I was engulfed with an empty, lethargic feeling. My eyes batted open and I was lying on the ground, looking up at Junnie and Chevelle. Junnie’s words ran together as Chevelle mumbled incoherently. “Gian Zet Foria Gian Zet Foria Gian Zet Foria.” It seemed so familiar. Yes, Georgiana Suzetta Glaforia. They stopped simultaneously.

“Frey.” Junnie was talking slowly and over-enunciating. “Stay calm and lie still.” I tried to look incredulous as I lay there unable to move. “Explain to me what happened.”

All the anger and excitement was gone and what came out sounded bored, just a statement of fact. “Chevelle held me back and made me watch my mother die.” She didn’t have the outraged look I expected. I sifted through the dream, no, the memory, searching for a way to explain so she would be stunned and infuriated. They both stared at me, waiting. Calm.

It struck me that I was lying on the ground, incapacitated, and I was sure they had complete control over me. What had happened? I thought through it again, going backwards from where I was. Their faces, the chanting from behind me, Chevelle backing away from me, the dream. The water. I remembered being trapped under water just before waking, but I wasn’t drowning. It wasn’t a dream.

I was horrified as more of the memory returned. The cloaks that had surrounded my mother, killed her, were circling me. I knew they intended to destroy me, too, though I couldn’t see why. Chevelle had held me, pulled me into the water. He had tried to keep them from seeing me as they attacked, tried to keep me from calling out to her. The look of fear, the look of sympathy. He held me back to save me. I felt tears streaming down my face and my limbs started to release from the dead weight. Chevelle had saved me from my mother’s fate. He had tried to keep me from seeing, tried to cover my eyes. I remembered the water, remembered fleeing. No, being dragged away as he fled. I shook with sobs as a pair of arms wrapped around me, supporting me when I sunk exhausted into a deep sleep.





Chevelle was still holding me when I woke in the late morning and I wondered if he’d slept at all. I was cradled in his arms as if a small child. I reached a hand up to rub my bleary eyes and as I glanced up at him, it struck me how close we were. My hand dropped from my face and fell lazily against his chest. That didn’t help. Heat rose in my neck when I felt the muscle beneath his shirt. I looked away but he must have thought I was searching for Junnie.

“She left just after dawn, when she knew you were… safe.”

“Oh,” I gushed. Great, we are alone in the middle of nowhere and I’m sitting in his lap. I flushed at the thought and hastily stood and straightened out my clothes. He sat and watched me as I fidgeted. “Um, so I guess we should get going?” I stammered.

“No.”