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

We met in the largest practice room. The sight of the others there reminded me so much of the group practice session when I’d been bound, I had to laugh. I had been so certain then that one wrong move could have destroyed me. But that wasn’t the way of it.

Chevelle had chosen these men. I understood now that he’d trusted them all with my life. He’d had to, when an errant thought or moment of temper could cost you your sparring partner. I knew they could not hurt me now, but I had not realized then that their magic would never have actually touched me in more than the annoyingly painful way they had used it to teach me.

I tried to keep in mind they’d been doing it to protect me.

“Me first,” came from Ruby right away. Apparently, my promise of trouble for this evening had not sated her.

I smiled. “Ready when you are.”

I could feel a tingle running up my back and knew she’d attempted a sneak attack. I squelched her flame but raised my hands to the side and ran my own flame down my arms to light in my palms, as if I’d stolen hers. If she wanted to play dirty, I had my own bag of tricks. The floor lit behind her as she readied her next attack. I flung my outstretched arms forward and released the fire. Ruby didn’t even flinch. Until it turned to icy blue mist that showered against her.

She cursed and pulled the whip from her side. Oh yes, I thought, I do owe her.

The tongue lit as it curled around and she began to rock, priming herself for another attempt. She cracked the whip at the right side of my face, missing it by a hair’s breadth, while simultaneously throwing a fireball at my left thigh from the side. A burst of white stopped the flame from touching me and another headed toward her stomach. She leapt quickly out of the way and then set the room ablaze.

Flames surrounded us, engulfing our section of the practice room. It was impressive.

I had planned to smother the fire, but something went wrong and the floor beneath Ruby fell. She caught herself and the conflagration immediately died.

“Not okay, Frey,” Ruby chided.

I stepped forward to help her. “It wasn’t my intention.”

When she was on her feet, we stared into the hole in the floor.

“Where are the stones?” Ruby asked.

I shrugged.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Grey asked.

No one laughed.

When I looked up, I caught the concern in Chevelle’s eyes. “Maybe I’ll just practice on my own from now on,” I suggested.

Rhys spoke up. “I believe it will be safest if we assist you.”

All eyes fell on the two tall, slender elves.

Rider explained. “Though we are not twins, we are brothers and share a connection. We have the ability to combine our powers.”

Stunned silence followed. Finally, Steed spoke up. “How does that work?”

“Usually, only one of us has control. Clearly, we cannot both command it. We essentially borrow the other’s power while directing our own,” Rhys explained.

A quick glance at Chevelle confirmed he had not been aware of their rare talent. Certainly the wolves had been.

“Is it possible then,” Grey asked, “that the same technique could be used to direct Frey’s power?”

“You mean to displace it?” Ruby asked.

“No, I was thinking of it not being entirely of her and therefore it could possibly be split from her own. But displacement may be a better option.”

“Would I be able to do that?” I asked Rider. “Can you send one another your power, or would I have to allow someone to borrow from me?”

“It is impossible to guess.” Rider contemplated the idea for a moment. “When we borrow, it is with a shared will. I am unsure whether it can be done otherwise, without that connection.”

I thought again of the wolves. This was no coincidence.

Rhys spoke up. “There is a danger in trying without the connection.” No one wanted to ask how he knew, but he could see our interest. “We discovered the link as children, quite by accident. I was under attack and would undoubtedly fall. My assailant was toying with me, enjoying the torment as he forced my brother to watch.”

My stomach turned as his words recalled the memory of Chevelle’s prone form writhing in agony.

“As I lay on the floor, listening to Rider’s shouts of protest over the sound of my own terrified screams, all I could think was that if I were as strong as him, if I had his power, I would crush this black demon standing over me. And he could think of nothing but saving me, giving me his own life in order to keep me alive, to defeat the elves attacking us.”

Anvil was generally not the meddlesome type, so his question surprised me. “Why were you attacked?”

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