Damn it. Not the kitchen.
I was looking into a large, open space with high ceilings. It was ornate, but not like the council buildings of the village. This place was dark, richly decorated with deep colors and velvet fabrics. Along the side walls, fires were lit in stone constructs of intricate design. A large elaborate chair sat near the center of the back wall on a raised platform. Beside it were several smaller seats and I suddenly knew where I was. The throne room. I found myself walking to the chair, though I probably shouldn’t have.
Its size and design were much more impressive up close. I reached my hand out and ran it across the scrolling at the top. I remembered the first day I woke again. To say I’d been slow was an obvious understatement. I’d spent days reading my mother’s diary and it had never crossed my mind that I had been, as she was, in line for the throne. But the moment I saw the gathering outside my window, I knew. Of course, that hadn't lasted long. Because I didn’t remember anything or have the slightest idea how to rule, I’d been kept from public view until we could straighten things out. Apparently, no one had ruled since the massacre my mother had started so long ago, so there wasn’t exactly a set routine now. The seven other elves who had helped me with so much else were now calling themselves my guard and had taken to the task of setting things in order privately, so no one could guess I was… out of sorts. But this, this was my throne.
I felt my mouth pull up in a smile as I rolled the thought around my mind.
“Looks like the cat finally got her canary,” Steed teased as he eyed my big goofy grin. A large hawk flew in with him and landed on a pedestal beside the throne. It must have been a pet; I remembered it being in some of the other memories, the ones that weren’t quite mine. Though it couldn’t have been the same hawk. I didn’t know how many years they lived, but I'd certainly been gone for far too long for that.
He was still looking at me, waiting for a reply while I was lost in thought.
“Steed,” I gushed. I hadn’t quite gotten used to the intense need I felt for the group and I hadn’t seen him for a while. He looked quite pleased at my response so I tried to cover my enthusiasm. “You’ve been gone, and Anvil. I thought you’d left.”
He laughed. “Afraid not. But we will be leaving soon, just for a bit.”
Despite my best efforts, the disappointment was plain on my face. I flopped down on the chair, forgetting it was a throne in the moment.
He stepped forward, close enough to brush my cheek with his fingers. “Frey, someone has to get the rest of your magic.”
My stomach twisted. I knew what he meant. They’d be hunting down the other council members, the ones who had bound me. They would have to kill them to release their hold on me. I couldn’t bear to see us separated, our group of eight. “But I don’t want you to go.” For some reason, that made him smile.
“What would you have us do, Frey?” Chevelle’s voice from the doorway made me jump. And also intensely aware of how close Steed was. I thought it had been rhetorical, but he waited for my reply. I wondered if this was because of who I'd been before, who I was supposed to be now. It didn’t feel like I had any authority. And I didn’t feel like that other Frey, adored and spoiled, second to the throne. But that thought made me realize where I was sitting, what my chair symbolized.
I huffed out a frustrated breath. What would be acceptable? I knew I wanted the bindings released, I knew I needed my magic and my memories, now more than ever, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of staying here while they left. “Why can’t we all go?”
Chevelle nearly rolled his eyes but caught himself. “Frey, we just got you back here. We can’t leave and not have anyone here to keep things in order. The North will be back in chaos in a short time. We’ve just given people hope.”
Hope. I laughed. They had hope because of me? Steed and Chevelle simultaneously gave me the look that I never got used to, though I'd seen it regularly enough. So we can’t leave the castle without giving them doubts? A thought occurred to me and Steed’s comment echoed in my mind… cats and canaries. I sat back in the chair and closed my eyes, falling into the mind of the hawk. It was the one magic the binding had never taken from me, the one talent that made me unique. I flew from the castle and over the mountain, searching for what I needed.
I was aware of Chevelle arguing with Steed. “Why do you insist on making this more complicated?”
“She’s not as weak as you think.”
“You know the bindings are dangerous. And you’ve seen what the stress can do to her.”
“She’s safer with us.”
“Is she?” Chevelle’s voice was ice.
“They won’t hurt her.”