Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(11)
I began to step into the next chamber, but stopped. I hadn’t wanted most of what Ruby had left for me, but there was one thing that might prove useful.
I slid a small canister from the bag, lining my eyes with gloss black, nearly the exact shade as my hair and lashes. It highlighted the green perfectly. One of a kind, I thought. And then smirked, as Ruby sported her own set as well. Let them think of that.
I strapped on my sword and headed for the study to meet the others.
Grey, Anvil, and Steed were waiting for me, each decked out in their castle finery. Steed and Grey had yet to get used to the formal gatherings, but they definitely looked the part. Leather and silver adorned their upper bodies, weapons at hip and back. They were strong, and though Grey appeared lean next to Anvil’s mass, the group somehow managed to give off a unified feel. Steed wiggled his eyebrows at my appearance. I ignored him.
“What news?”
“The witnesses have confirmed the identity of the intruder,” Grey reported. “Due to the banquet, we have been unable to gather more information regarding his route to the castle, but once here, he’d not been linked to anyone.”
“Has anyone of note refused the invitation?”
“No,” Anvil answered. “All are anxious to bear witness to the new power they have heard of, or to see you fall.” He smiled.
“I would imagine,” I said. “No change, then. We will proceed as planned.”
Steed and Grey did a little salute of sorts at my command, the shuffle of their boots on stone bringing my attention to their straightened posture. I shook my head absently at their dutifulness.
“To the hall.”
As with the throne room, there was a private entrance to the hall, designed to allow direct access to the designated position without having to navigate the crowds. Asher didn’t like to be touched. Still, it was a good idea and also handy for a grand entrance.
Chevelle was waiting for me there. I had the pleasure of seeing his jaw go tight at my arrival, but was quickly distracted by his own getup. He had been raised wearing the garb of a warrior and it fit him well. It had been a very long time since I had seen him so, and I’d forgotten exactly how well. I cleared my throat.
“Elfreda.” He nodded formally.
“Vattier,” I threw back, and irritation took over as his chief emotion. I could deal with that. The other was too distracting.
He quickly reviewed the arrangements for the evening before asking, “Have you made your decision on the demonstration, or do you merely plan to wing it?”
I didn’t bite. “I have a fully choreographed performance. Not to worry.”
He looked dubious. We stood there for a moment, knowing a full hall awaited us, but neither eager to proceed. He would not be at my side through the evening, as Asher had spent many years planting seeds of distrust and prejudice against Chevelle to prevent any alliance on my part. My public denial of him had done nothing to help, either. As it was, the position he held as my guard was generating plenty of whispers.
Chevelle stepped forward, his hand unexpectedly on my waist, and my pulse stuttered for an instant. But he spun me around, speaking low as he did so, explaining, “Checking your wound. No one must see this.” He adjusted the material, verifying everything was still in place, and spun me once more to face the door as he stood behind me. His hands ran the edge of my cape to settle on the bare skin of my upper arms and he leaned in to murmur, “Show them who you are.”
Damn him. His breath on my ear caused a shiver and then his hand found my lower back and gave a little push toward the door. I didn’t look back when I heard a low chuckle.
I was glad we’d called “even” earlier, because I was about to tip the scales.
The hall fell silent the moment I entered. They had been waiting on my arrival, but no doubt the synchronized “stop everything you’re doing and turn to the dais” action of all the servers and related castle personnel didn’t hurt. I stopped for a moment, found each of my guard (excepting Ruby) scattered about the room, purposefully not acknowledging the presence of any leaders. I’d had a gathering previously, but not of this magnitude, and many were left out intentionally, so I continued as if no other had occurred.
“As the former guard is disbanded,” a reminder that we’d killed them, “I have invited the clans to gather,” a reminder they were here upon invitation, “to honor the seven of my new guard.”
These men were no fools. They had watched my eyes fall upon only six men. The guard was unmistakable in dress and stature, so there would be no question as to who stood among them. However, there would be a building curiosity to the identity of the seventh. I nodded toward the steward and service began. It was an incredibly brief speech, but there was more to come.
I stepped from the dais and took my seat at the head of the table to feast among the leaders of the north. The room was situated not as the dining area with its long, narrow tables, but with many short tables, arranged so that my slightly elevated position became the focus of the room, as well as the dais behind me.
Anvil had positioned the attendees in order of preference; two elderly men who had supported me throughout sat on either side, progressively going to less supportive, more troublesome, and downright dangerous from there. That meant most of the rogue clan leaders were across the room, and I avoided their stares as I was served. I raised my glass to the air and toasted, “The Seven,” before bringing it to my lips, the scent of oak and spiceberry hanging in wait. Rhys and Rider’s gazes took in those who did not join in.