Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(5)

“All right,” I answered with little confidence.

He stepped beside me so we were both facing the long, empty space and used his magic to chuck a rock from the box in the corner. As it flew across the room, I raised my arm and pointed at it in an attempt to focus solely on striking it with a fireball. Not one flame lit but the rock exploded.

“What was that?” Chevelle asked.

I shrugged. “Did I mention sometimes it doesn’t work properly?”

He nodded, expressionless. “This time, try to shatter the stone.”

Another rock launched from the box, flying straight into the expanse. I focused on splitting it and it burst into dust. I looked to Chevelle.

He tore a small piece of fabric from the hem of his shirt and held it before me. “Burn this.” I started to glance down, but the first finger of his other hand stopped me. “Not my palm.”

Right.

I concentrated on the fabric for a moment before the idea of burning his palm recalled one of those odd, not quite me memories. The lines of a map burnt into my palms. An old trick we’d used on Fannie. Ass, I thought, for one fraction of a second, before I realized I’d gotten angry.

I gasped at Chevelle’s intake of breath and raised my hands in a helpless gesture as the flames died down.

“I see what you mean,” Chevelle said through clenched teeth.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I just... I got irritated for a second.”

He eyed me questioningly and I glanced at the seared flesh of his hand. I might have still been irritated. At my expression, understanding came over his face.

“Let’s just call it even,” I suggested.

“Aye.”

“And,” I continued, “in case you’ve forgotten, we are in agreement that you’ll not use spells near me unless absolutely necessary.”

He stared me straight in the eye. “We are even from here.”

My jaw rolled involuntarily. Come to think of it, there’d been a lot of catching up on his end while I’d been bound. “Fine,” I answered, taking a step toward him.

We stared at each other for one long moment and then the unburned hand clenched into a fist. When I’d been bound, I had thought him constantly angry with me. But I knew him again, and I understood this was a different kind of restraint. He wouldn’t touch me, he’d let me decide.

When I didn’t respond, he stepped back. “The others will be waiting.”





With a promise to continue practice in the morning, we made our way to Anvil’s study. Asher had always met with his guard in the throne room, keeping it a formal matter, but I didn’t care for the echo of the high ceilings or sitting elevated among those who protected me. And it wasn’t as if Anvil ever used his library.

It was a small room compared to the other meeting places in the castle. A long oval table was centered at one end, a few plush chairs sat at the other. High windows cast odd shadows in the corners, but the natural light seemed to feature the flat of the table. Scattered about the room were my guard.

They came together then, each taking their place around the oval, Chevelle at my right. It was then, as I stood before them, that I realized this was my first meeting of the guard as Elfreda, Lord of the North. I resisted the urge to run a hand over my face. This was something I had never wanted. I forced myself to stand tall and met the eyes of each of the seven before me. The seven who would enforce my rule, the seven who would give their lives to defend me.

I spoke their names as my gaze connected with each, a tradition that outdated this castle. “Chevelle Vattier.” He was no stranger to the formalities and he stood at his post with confidence. I could almost see the promise in his eyes.

Grey waited to Chevelle’s right. I was lucky to have him. “Grey of Camber.” He gave a small nod in answer.

My eyes followed to Rhys and Rider. I knew little of them, but as I spoke their names they pledged themselves as well.

“Steed Summit.” Steed had gotten involved by chance, or so Ruby would have us believe. But he had proven himself.

“Ruby Summit.” I nearly smiled at the heat radiating from her. I would never know if it was pride at her new station or the idea of all the trouble she could get into here, in the thick of things.

“Reed of Keithar Peak.” Anvil inclined his head, shoulders straight. He, like Chevelle, understood his place at this table and held above all else his duty.

I took a slow, steadying breath and then began as if this were not a monstrous undertaking. “Chevelle tells me he and Steed were successful. However, it seems we have some convincing left to do.” I stopped. Only two of my guard were familiar with castle politics. I had a feeling Ruby would fit right in, but she presented a whole new problem. We were going to have to play this out as Asher would have, and that left a bitter taste in my mouth. “Chevelle has suggested a banquet.” Anvil nodded. The rest of the table sat silent. “A show of power,” I explained.

I deferred to Chevelle then, who outlined the details and responsibilities of each of them. Who should watch which clan leader, who should cover which areas, which signals meant what or who. Everyone had something to imply or a task to do, everyone had their role. Except Ruby.

When Chevelle finished, he glanced at me, a question in his eyes. I nodded grimly, giving him permission.

“Frey has an issue with control.” A snigger escaped from Ruby’s side of the table but my glare cut it short. Chevelle continued. “We will meet each morning to assist in her recovery.”