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

I stared down Steed and Grey. “Do not leave her side.”


Grey was gone before I’d finished speaking, but we were right behind him. We followed the clatter of metal and chirping, bubbly laughter to the great hall.

It appeared to have exploded. The furniture was in splinters, pieces of wall and ceiling lay in piles of rubble, the stones of which were being lobbed about blissfully by several small gray fey. Their feathers were wet, as was about half the room, which was scattered with patches of ice and puddles of water.

The tapestries were set to a slow burn, which no one seemed to think significant enough to put out. Given that there were at least a dozen other fairies here who could set even the stone ablaze, I could understand the decision. Anvil had taken to electrocuting a couple of water sprites, which the lilac-skinned Flora and Virtue considered uproarious. They floated above the scene, rolling in the air with laughter.

Rider was cornered by a waiflike winter sprite and two frost monsters were hovering above Rhys, trying to get a hand on his staff. The room hummed with the beat of so many wings and stank of sulfur and spring violets.

“I hate fairies.” My voice was surprisingly even.

“Hear, hear,” Ruby whispered, catching my eye as she stood behind Steed and Grey midway across the hall.

I drew my sword, grateful I’d stayed in my fighting attire from the evening’s meeting. I would have to be careful bandying around magic in a room full of fey. They had a bad habit of affecting energy in unusual ways, and I was barely in control of it myself. I sincerely hoped, once again, that Finn and Keaton had a plan to help me channel it.

“Pretty, pretty,” a frost monster murmured to Rhys’ staff.

“Anvil,” I said with as much calm as I could muster. He ceased transmitting the current toward the water sprites and they shuddered, jerked, and dropped to the floor. They were trembling and muttering incoherently, but their audience became bored.

I stepped in before they found another attraction. “Flora, why have you come?”

Twin amethyst jewels gleamed at me, and I had to focus not to get lost there. Her smile was stunning, though I knew she mocked me. The heliotropes had something very near hypnosis if they could catch you. Her lips were thin, a muted pink against the pale lilac of the rest of her. She wore but a scrap of clothing, revealing the tiny feather-like strokes of mauve covering her body.

Her only response was to purr.

I looked at Virtue. She raised a violet brow.

“Why?”

“You will see, lov-el-y,” she taunted, dragging her words out. “You. Will. See.”

I stepped forward, sword at the ready. Virtue was more of a soft lavender with the markings of a cheetah. I’d always heard her belly faded to white. Looking at her now, I doubted anyone had actually gotten close enough to find out. She wore the full armor of a warrior fey and a smile that promised to devour you.

“He comes,” whispered a soft voice from behind the walls.

“He comes,” repeated the gray-feathered fiends, forgetting their game of stone-throwing to watch the large hole where the window used to be.

We stood motionless, dreading the “he” who was coming.

No sound accompanied his arrival, but as his form appeared in the opening, the sun broke over the horizon, silhouetting the figure of a winged god in the golden light of dawn.

If I hadn’t been so angry, I might have rolled my eyes.





Chapter Thirteen


Veil





Veil hovered there for a moment, allowing all to glory in the display. Anvil spat, Grey shook his head, and Rhys struggled to keep his staff from the pale, wiry fingers of the frost monsters.

Finally, Veil spread his arms and drifted into the great hall.

“Nearly through with your presentation?” I asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my tone.

He smiled as if I’d applauded instead of insulted him. He tilted his head to the side, perusing my attire. He took his time and when his gaze finally came back to meet my glare, I could practically feel the anger radiating off Chevelle from his position behind me.

“You look well, my Freya,” Veil purred.

Something similar to a growl escaped my second, who was, at least for the time being, faithfully guarding my back.

“You look ridiculous,” I shot back. “And your damned insects are swarming the castle.”

His smile turned sexy and I tried not to notice that he was indeed worthy of the hero status he had among the fey. “They are not like your little birdies, are they?”