Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(13)

I had decided to give them a bit longer before the display of power when an exchange caught my attention. Dagan of Camber was a little too far in his drink, speaking noisily of “before.” Dagan had clout. He held dominance over many here, and some believed fear of his power had kept the region from going completely lawless in my absence. I wanted no conflict with him, but his words were irritating me unreasonably. I resolved to go ahead with the next step to shut him up. And that was when it all went out the window.

Looking back, it was hard to recall exactly what he said that caused my anger to explode. Something about Chevelle that went right through me. What happened next would likely be repeated through history. I was fairly certain I’d only intended to shatter the cup in front of him, just to get his attention.

Instead, a deafening blast sounded as every cup on every table in the entire hall burst into pieces at once, sending shards of pewter glassware flying to clink against walls, splinter into tables, and generally shower down on everything, excepting myself, which pretty much gave away the source of the flare. The fact that I was staring at Dagan clued everyone who’d not heard his comments in on the cause.

The room fell silent once again and the drip of wine from table and stone seemed amplified by it. Red splattered my guests as if they had attended a massacre and not a feast. The final few who were still taking in the scene came to join the others in their gawking of me.

I realized I was standing, which was slightly disconcerting considering I couldn’t remember doing it. I glanced down to see my own wineglass sat undisturbed, my person and all that surrounded me in an arm’s length radius untouched by the destruction that blanketed the rest of the hall.

There was no question I had instilled fear in them. My task was complete and I didn’t have much taste left for festivities. I leaned down, lifted the glass in salute to my guard, and turned to walk casually from the room.

When I reached the corridor, I allowed myself to breathe again. I walked toward the study, thinking of the faces of my guard, sprayed red and numb with shock. I kept walking, past my chambers, past the commonly used rooms, up the stairs and out the window to my perch on the roof. The wind was cutting, but I stood to face it.



“Tell me that wasn’t your plan,” Chevelle said from behind me.

I choked on a laugh. I’d been standing in the wind so long my eyes watered and my nose and cheeks burned. I turned to look at him, relieved to find him clean and out of uniform. He untied his cloak and stepped up behind me on the small platform. When he reached around to blanket me with the cloak, the warmth felt so good I held his arm to wrap around me. I felt him relax into the embrace and I snuggled my face into the cloak to thaw. I breathed in his scent and then straightened, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“I had a good plan,” I said as we stared out into the night. An agreeable rumble vibrated in his chest. It reminded me of a purring cat and I smiled. “I don’t suppose it matters now.”

“They were convinced,” he assured me.

Chevelle wasn’t like me. He possessed a nearly unshakable calm and considerable patience. After all we’d been through, there was no question he would have taken revenge on Asher. Everyone knew that. What they couldn’t guess was the backlash it would cause. What traps Asher had set for him. If he were to fail, what that would have meant for me. If he were to succeed, what that would have meant for the realm. Chevelle had understood that. He’d kept me from acting rashly, a reckless vengeance that would have likely gotten me killed. I would have retaliated with passion. He could wait.

And he was right. There was a difference between courage and suicide. Honor wasn’t much good to the dead.

“Chevelle?”

“Hmm,” he purred. I shivered. He could think it was from cold.

“How did you know I’d kill Asher?”

He stiffened. “We didn’t.”

I felt my face contort, but couldn’t decipher what they’d actually planned when we’d confronted him among his guard.

Chevelle sighed. “When we found that he’d set bindings on you, we had to allow him to live.”

They’d made a deal.

“He’d been collecting new powers. He’d learned to create a binding that would not release upon his death.”

Which explained why Chevelle had been studying bindings instead of just hunting the council.

“When council attacked, it set so much more into motion. Francine was to be taken, and you, but Junnie stepped in. She forced their hand with an arrangement no one could refuse by council law. Council bound you both, for their safety, and permitted you to live. Under their watch.”

“I can’t remember,” I said. “Everything else. But not the bindings. Was it long?”

“No, the entire process was very quick. When council descended, Asher set his spell and ran. And then you were gone.” He faltered, then corrected. “In the village.”

I had been gone. And it had seemed a very long time.

“He watched you, to be certain you weren’t fundamentally affected by the castings. Apparently, he saw enough of your old self there to approve. Once council was disposed of, we expected him to release you. He wanted you back as his second, under his control.”

“So, when I stabbed him...”

“Not exactly the plan.”

“Wow.”