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…