“
Is the casting broken?” I
asked in a lifeless voice.
He nodded. We’d not been able to use magic
within the boundaries of the spell, but the rock had made it
through. Clay of Rothegarr was dead.
“
Will you get my cat?” I
said softly. “We need to go.”
He released my arms and I closed my eyes to
call our horses to the castle. I heard the clatter of rock as
Chevelle cleared the debris surrounding the thorn tree. I dropped
quickly to the mind of the cat, willing it not to hurt Chevelle as
he freed it.
We needed to get to Camber. We needed to end
this. All of it.
I glanced at the sky as we rode for Camber.
The sun was too low on the horizon, though we’d been running since
we’d left the castle. Chevelle had carried the mountain lion to the
yard, where he’d left instructions to build an enclosure for the
animal and tend it as best as possible until Ruby had returned.
We’d barely spoken since, nothing but the rhythmic thump of horse
hooves on the path, until we neared the bounds of Camber.
“
Is it safe?” Chevelle asked
from his place behind me.
The heavens were empty, likely due to the
fighting, so I drew a red-tail from its perch in the safety of a
black spruce. There was nothing in the outlying crevices and
copses. Nothing on the paths into town. Nothing, until my circles
brought me closer to the epicenter, where smoke and dust rose in
caustic clouds above Camber.
“
It’s over,” I said, opening
my eyes again to clear skies and order. “And I don’t see anything
lying in wait for us.”
When we finally reached town, most of the
major damage was restored. The ground was littered with fairy dust
and bits of wing, pebbles and ash. A dozen busted wine casks were
scattered in front of the Kraig residence, and the deep purple
fluid splashed beneath our horses’ hooves where it ran in rivulets
over the dark stone path, trickling halfway through town before
waning to nothing. Troughs were overturned, crowns of houses were
lying in rubble on front porches, and horses were painted with
berry juice and shimmer. But the fires were no longer burning, the
floods had been diverted. No bodies lay in the street.
Rider met us near the center of town. I could
tell by his appearance such had not been the case when they’d
arrived.
“
I suggest making your way
to Ruby’s house,” he said. “It appears her protections worked quite
nicely to deter the fey.” He glanced around, clearly not wanting to
voice the real reason in front of a crowd. “Rhys waits for you
there.”
I nodded, understanding his hesitation.
They’d saved one, and by the looks of the elves here, they wanted
no part of it.
“
Is anyone hurt?” I
asked.
“
Ruby is tending them,” he
said. “Seems they’ve taken to her, here at least.” He saw my
uncertainty. “We have everything else under control.” He was right,
but it wasn’t easy to walk away.
Rider glanced past me to Anvil. “What did you
get into?”
I followed his gaze to find Anvil’s forearm
caked with blood. I’d not even noticed.
Anvil waved it off. “They weren’t trackers.
Sent some muscle to tear up things while we were down there looking
for them.”
I wondered briefly if there was more truth to
his words than he realized. Council might not be at the temple at
all. But I didn’t mention it, this was no time for supposition.
Chevelle and I left Anvil and Rider to exchange stories and assist
the others. As we rode through Camber, the passing elves stopped to
watch, a mixture of emotion meeting our presence.
Ruby’s home stood out among the rest, clean
of assault, and I had to wonder if it had been her protections as
Rider had suggested, or if the fey had done this intentionally.
We stopped in front of the house where
another horse stood, drinking from the only unmolested water trough
in town. I stepped down, staring at the poor beast as it nervously
puffed into the water. A smattering of small handprints painted its
ribcage while its mane stood in thick, gooey spikes. I shook my
head absently; I would never understand their fixation with
horses.
Chevelle waited for me at the door, where I
took one deep breath before nodding for him to go on. We slipped in
quickly, dreading what we’d find on the other side.
Ruby’s living area seemed smaller, though I
couldn’t say whether it was owing to my memory or the pale blue
fairy that hovered above the couch, flittering nervously from side
to side.
“
Myst,” I sighed, undecided
if I was relieved to know her.
“
Lord Freya,” she crooned,
“so good to have a friend here.” Her expression was hopeful until
she saw mine did not change, and then her shoulders
fell.
I moved forward, taking a seat across from
her as she dropped gracefully onto the couch. Her feet never
touched the floor as her slender legs curled up beneath the wispy
fabric of her skirts. It would have been too fragile for most fey,
but Myst was more than a few decades old. Not that anyone could
tell by looking. The fey were ageless, growing to full maturity
within a couple of years and remaining as such until death, which
came by some means other than old age more often than not.
I glanced briefly at Rhys, who appeared in
fair condition. Myst would have been exceedingly well behaved in
her current predicament. Given what she’d find outside, escape
would be far worse than anything we could do to her.
She waited patiently for me to speak, though
anyone could see it pained her to stay still. One corner of her
pale bottom lip was tucked under her teeth and she picked at the
poppy seeds detailing her skirt. But her colorless eyes remained on
me.
“
Tell me you’re not in
league with Grand Council,” I said.
She laughed, but it took on a uneasy stutter
when she realized I was serious.
I leaned forward. “Why are you here? All of
you?”
“
We were supposed to have
free rein once council was removed.” Her gaze flicked to Chevelle
and then back to me. “You know, before someone called
war.”
I glared at her. We’d not even left the
castle before they’d attacked, let alone given them reason to
declare war.
She shrugged. “We got a little excited.”
I stood, suddenly no longer able to bear
being in this room, this situation.
She stood as well, silk-covered feet landing
noiselessly on stone. “What about me?”
I smiled. “You are free to go.”
Chapter Twenty
Messengers
She wouldn’t leave, I knew that, but I had to
get away from her. So I was standing in Ruby’s tiny guest room,
staring blankly at my reflection in the large ornate mirror when
Chevelle came in.
“
You were right,” I said
numbly, unable to look at him as he approached to stand behind
me.
He didn’t speak.
“
I was about to cause a war.
A war we couldn’t win.” I looked down at my hands, feeling helpless
at my lack of control. “I nearly set into motion a conflict that
would all but hand our world to the fey.”
His fingers slipped against
my waist and the simple touch brought, if not relief, then
reassurance. I turned to him, sliding my own hand up his arm, but
when I finally looked up into the deep sapphire of his eyes, all I
could think was,
what
now
?
“
Freya,” he started, but I
cut him off.
“
What is it?”
He held up a scroll with his other hand. “A
messenger was here.”
I took two sideways steps to sit on the bed,
not positive I could remain standing when he told me who’d been
lost. “Who?”
“
Two watchmen, a sentry, and
a keep. The sentry was of Camber, the second messenger is with his
family now.”
They had killed four. Masquerading as
trackers, they had snuck onto the grounds, taking down anyone who’d
seen them. Archer had attempted to steal the castings from the
vault while the rest lay in wait. To burn and raze the castle.
I was abruptly standing again. Chevelle saw
my fury, but he didn’t attempt to calm it. This would have to be
answered for, if not now, then soon. The realization eased my
temper enough that I could at least consider our options.
I began pacing. Asher had never allowed me to
pace. It was a weakness, he’d said. But he was dead.
“
I should see the family,” I
said, a plan forming. It wasn’t a solid plan. It was based purely
on faith, but it was a plan. And it was the only one I
had.
Chevelle nodded. “As will I. Burne has a
grown son. His wife is Camren. She’s known for her talent with
wind.”
I came to a standstill, straightening my
scabbard before gripping the hilt of my sword. “Yes, we will see
her first.” My eyes met Chevelle’s but before I could decide
whether to tell him, there was a crash from the front room.
I bit down a growl, muttering, “I hate
fairies,” for what was almost certainly not the last time as I
opened the door to the living area.
The pale blue fairy was perched on the arm of
the sofa by the tips of her toes. Her hands were behind her back
and she wore an all-too-innocent smile as she greeted me in
singsong. “Frey-a.”
I grimaced at her as I asked Rider, “What did
she break?”
He nodded toward the corner, where a gooey
mess oozed from broken chunks of what I assumed was once a clay
pot. “Not sure exactly, but it smells like the back end of a
goat.”
Myst grinned wider, as if her perfect teeth
could charm me into friendship.
“
Clean it up and I will let
you live.”
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.