Frey Saga Book II: Pieces of Eight (4 page)

I felt better when I woke
but I was positive I could have used a few more hours sleep. I was
a little grumpy and more foggy than usual. By late morning, I’d
remembered that I was mad at Ruby for keeping something from me and
I shot a glare her direction.

Steed saw my sour face.
“Don’t be sore with Ruby.”

I raised an eyebrow at
him.

“
She had her reasons for
the invasion.” He read the confusion on my face and continued in a
hushed tone, “She’s very interested in your… lineage.”

I realized he was talking
about her reading my mother’s diary and the anger was suddenly
stronger. I had forgotten that part. He’d stopped talking so I
composed my face and waited, trying to look patient.

He smiled at my attempt. We
fell back from the others as he explained. “You know some of her
story, that she’s a half-breed.”

Patience was a hard
thing.

“
Oh, I should just start
from the beginning. It will be a long ride after all.” He could
tell I was struggling.

His grin died as he began
what I knew was a serious story. “My mother and father had a happy
life. Their differences fit nicely together and their bonds were
strong. But the horses couldn’t thrive on the mountains that my
mother loved and my father traveled often to find new blood to
bring in for the line, so he was gone sometimes for months at a
time, as was I, once I began to learn the trade. Which is why we
were both absent during the… incident in which she lost her
life.”

I tried not to groan. I was
sure the “incident” he referred to was the massacre single-handedly
caused by my mother.

“
We returned separately,
as I was detained, in another matter, and so I was not there when
he’d received the news.”

I realized I was holding my
breath and focused on matching it to the rhythm of the
hoofbeats.

“
When I finally saw him,
he was beyond distraught. He was… not himself. I was fearful for
him but I too was in mourning. And I had my own duties to fulfill.
So, I found myself gone again when the second tragedy befell
him.”

Ruby’s
mother
.

“
The fairy
found him in such a condition that it was effortless to sway him
with enchantments. All this, you know. But what Ruby has left out
is the root of the issue. Yes, you are similar in that you are both
from unmatched parents.” I very nearly laughed at his term. “But
the real reason she was interested in your mother’s diary was
because that, well,
you
, were what sparked the idea in her own mother’s twisted
mind.”

I was lost.

He could tell.

“
You see,
Frey, your mother was bred, uh,
created
for uniqueness. But you, you
were born with it.”

I couldn’t think of my own
mother, of myself, now labeled a crossbreed, so instead I thought
of Ruby.
Uniqueness.
“Well, she got it, didn’t she?” I knew we were both thinking
of her venom when we looked at her then.

She turned back with a half
smile and shot us a wink. I could see why Steed had helped her now.
And after all that her mother had done to destroy his family, it
almost gave me hope. It did seem that this group had forgiven me
for my mother’s actions. I wondered how clearly those actions might
have been detailed in the diary.

“
I wish I’d finished
reading it,” I said sullenly.

“
Why don’t
you?”

“
I don’t know where it
is.”

“
I’m sure Ruby has it. She
carries everything she values with her.”

Ah, hope. I almost clicked
my heels to catch her right then, but she was riding by Chevelle.
He tended to get annoyed at this sort of thing. And I still had an
odd feeling about him, the dream, the memory. I tried to shake it
off but I stayed back with Steed.

I had a lot to avoid
thinking about as we rode, so I bantered with him like we had when
we’d first met. It was nice to be out of the castle, to have a
purpose. Even if I had to keep from thinking of what our purpose
was so that I didn’t quiver in fear or get sick to my stomach with
worry. When we talked, the laughs came easy and soon our pace had
slowed as everyone joined in the conversations.

The casual pace continued
throughout the day and everyone seemed in good spirits when we
stopped, earlier than usual, for the evening. I groaned when Ruby
suggested training before dinner so Chevelle offered to spar with
me. He knew it was something I enjoyed, possibly the only training
that was tolerable. Mostly it was because I didn’t get hurt but
also it wasn’t as tiring. Everyone gathered around to watch as we
clashed swords, a rhythmic clinking the only sound besides the
occasional comment or murmur of approval from the makeshift
audience.

As it often did when I was
training with Chevelle, time slipped past faster than I’d realized.
It was getting dark when he straightened and lowered his sword. I
tried to wipe the silly grin off my face; I knew I was improving
immensely, at this at least. Someone lit a flame and our audience
moved to surround it. I started to follow but Chevelle stood for a
moment, simply watching me. I thought he might have something to
say but the pressure of silence started to build and I panicked,
blowing out a nervous breath as I hurried past him to join the
others.

I glanced at him frequently
during dinner. He seemed to be watching me but sometimes I imagined
stuff like that. I was, after all, looking at him. When it became
obvious I was staring, I looked back down, nervously picking at my
food, the whole process becoming daunting because I kept feeling
his eyes on me.

After we’d eaten, Ruby came
to sit beside me, smiling mischievously as she slipped me the
diary. I should have known she’d heard. I held it in my hand,
unsure now that I wanted to read it. Maybe Ruby had been right
about being happier not knowing. I ran my fingers over the cover,
etched with a V. Now I knew it was Vita’s initial there. I
remembered once thinking it stood for Vattier. I’d been wrong about
so many things.

I tucked it into my bag.
After the day we’d had, I didn’t want to lose the good feelings
just yet.

But I should have known
better.

Chapter Three

Recognition

I’d fallen asleep thinking
of nothing more than the patterns of crossing swords (choosing to
avoid the thoughts of Chevelle) so I was surprised, in my dreams,
that it was Fannie I’d seen. It was a familiar dream but I couldn’t
be sure why. I was taking in the scene from above, my vision
slightly off. I could see her there, wild, violent. She was
destroying the village around her, uprooting trees, burning them to
ash. And she was laughing. As I watched the devastation, I
recognized the villagers as my own, but even in my dream, that was
not the worrisome part. There was something frightening about it,
but not the broken bodies, not the demolished grounds. Something
else, something I couldn’t quite grasp…

I woke unsettled. The group
still seemed in their elevated moods, but I couldn’t shake the
foreboding. I was quiet as we mounted and started back on our path.
We had been riding long enough that the way had settled some. It
wasn’t as steep or rocky as it had been so I was able to relax a
little, physically anyway.

I guessed it was because I
was thinking of her, but I realized that I knew something about
Fannie. Something that I was sure hadn't been explained to me.
 It might have only been a dream but it seemed like it had
just come back, or been there, unnoticed until I'd thought of her.
 However it had happened, it was there and it was, like all my
other "new" memories, odd.

What I knew was that Fannie
had been skipped over, older and rightfully next in line for the
throne before her sister.  Their father had for all public
purposes disowned her, instead choosing my mother as his secondary,
his heir.  The details weren't all there in my mind but I
remembered from reading my mother's diary that from an early age
Fannie had been shunned for her light features, a product of her
mother's heritage, and was a disappointment because of her lack of
power, or maybe a uniqueness, that her sister apparently
possessed.

It was disturbing to turn
up new information in such a way. Most of the recovered memories
came to me in dreams, which could be slightly confusing at times
because the dreams often seemed real enough to be memories and the
memories often so strange they could have been dreams. Chevelle had
once told me that he thought the memories found their way out
easier in my sleep, that they didn't have to fight so hard to be
released from their bonds while my mind was resting and unable to
resist.  It had made sense.  But now, now I wasn't sure
they couldn't just slip through at any time.  Or maybe they
were there and I simply hadn't sifted through them enough to find
out.  A shiver ran through me, though I was wrapped tightly in
my cloak.

A rock clattered down the
path, knocked loose from a horse hoof, and I stiffened.
Embarrassed, I adjusted in my saddle and tried to relax my posture
before anyone saw how jumpy I was. I casually looked right and
left, checking the faces of the others. They seemed oblivious. Or
maybe they were just getting used to me.

The dream had shaken me and
I needed some peace of mind so I closed my eyes and drifted,
finding solace in the bird soaring overhead. Once above, I glided
for a while in large, calming circles. Eventually, I looked down at
our group and then scanned farther out, surveying the mountain and
our path ahead. I wasn’t positive where we’d be going, but if I
could do a sweep of the land every morning… or maybe a few times a
day…

And then I was back in my
own head again. Gah, what had I gotten myself into now? Hunting
Grand Council, scoping out the perimeter, planning to capture
animals for use in battle. I decided that I might have been nuts;
that maybe people weren’t looking at me like I was an idiot all the
time, maybe they were wondering if I was crazy. But in the back of
my mind I had to fight a thought that said I might be. After all,
my mother had been. I felt my face pinch up and tried to smooth it
out before someone noticed.

I realized they were
otherwise occupied when Grey began whistling a tune and asked Anvil
to join in, provoking him about his tongue. Anvil flung a metal
stud from his vest at him in retaliation and it must have been
carrying electricity because the instant it hit Grey he jerked,
almost losing his seat. Steed laughed wildly and it wasn't long
before a mêlée between the three ensued. I was starting to enjoy
the spectacle, though segments of it did look pretty painful, but
Chevelle eventually stepped in, informing them that he could think
of a better use of their energy. I thought I saw him smirk when,
several minutes later, Steed and Grey were still
twitching.

And then an image came to
my mind. For no reason that I could come up with, I saw, or rather,
remembered someone. There was a split second of astonishment before
fear choked me.

It must have been audible
because instantly the others were surrounding me, confused and
concerned and ready to act. “What?” I heard someone say, but I
wasn’t sure who. My ears were ringing again but I couldn’t bring
myself to be irritated because I was overwhelmed with fear that was
quickly turning into hatred.

I made an effort to focus
when Chevelle was suddenly in front of me. I thought he’d grabbed
me by the arms and pulled me from my horse, but I couldn’t be sure
because when I was finally able to bring myself back to the moment,
he was all I could see. So close, right in front of me, demanding
my attention. But it was good he was close, because I was only
capable of a whisper. “Archer Lake.”

Two words, but it was
enough. I heard the intake of breath sweep through my audience,
though all I could see was Chevelle’s face. It was a study in fury.
The name meant something to him as well, but I couldn’t tell if it
was more than simple recognition. Because all I knew about Archer
Lake was that he was a member of Grand Council. And I hated
him.

I heard someone ask where
and I forced the sickening hatred down enough to explain. Not a
vision from above… a memory, returned from nowhere, as if it
dropped from the sky, and missing essential pieces. I had no idea
how I knew him, no idea when (though it had to be from my previous
life – didn’t it?), and no idea why it had come back. Only the
image of his face and the knowledge of his station. And the feeling
that accompanied them.

“
Does that happen a lot?”
Grey asked, concerned.

“
No.” I answered
automatically, and then remembered. “Just today.”

“
There’s more?” Chevelle
interceded.

“
I’m not sure. I just
remembered, or rather, think I knew something new about Fannie this
morning.”

He blanched.

It seemed like less of a
coincidence now. The dream of Fannie that had bothered me so much
was creeping into my thoughts again. And the one before, the one
that included him. I looked down, away from his face, still blank
with shock.