Rise of the Seven by Melissa Wright Read Free Book Online

meet his
gaze. “You challenge my decision?”
    All sound ceased but the flickering of
torchlight.
    Rothus was a prideful man who held grudges at
his chest with no notion of release. He hated fey as they hated
iron. What I didn’t know was whether he held that hatred above his
current existence. The silence keyed him in on his mistake and he
pushed his chair back to take a knee, but he didn’t exactly recant.
“They have no place among us.”
    “ As you have no place to
dispute the pronouncement of your lord.” I paused for a heartbeat,
and then, “Guard, acquire your price.”
    I sat casually, my obligation resolved.
    From my periphery, I saw Grey flinch and
feared he would intervene. I’d not thought to gauge his response to
Ruby’s appearance, as it was, or the risk she was about to take. It
was another mistake on my part, and I quietly added it to the list.
But Steed caught him in time with a gesture so minute, I was
confident no one else saw it. Besides, they were all watching the
fire fairy in guard’s garb cross the room to her target.
    Wearing a blank expression, Ruby walked
coolly through the crowd to stand behind him. On bended knee, he
was nearly as tall as she and I was grateful he’d shown at least
that respect. She pulled a dagger from her waist and grabbed hold
of his braid. The whole of the hall tensed until a swift move
sliced the braid and a crop of black hair fell forward around his
face. It was incredibly insulting, but far from what the other
guests had expected. Without a word, she walked back to her place,
a firm grip on the dagger in one hand and braid in the other.
    I’d given none cause to dispute the action,
and the fact that Ruby hadn’t used fire in her revenge might keep
her heritage from topic when the story was repeated. The northern
elves tended to enjoy relaying the deed, but didn’t much care to
dwell on complicated reasons. Ruby was complicated enough, but I
was afraid far too remarkable to not become a target herself.
    Another round of wine was served and the
crowd eventually settled into the customary din of
conversation.
    I had decided to give them a bit longer
before the display of power when an exchange caught my attention.
Dagan of Camber was a little too far in his drink, speaking noisily
of “before.” Dagan had clout. He held dominance over many here, and
some believed fear of his power had kept the region from going
completely lawless in my absence. I wanted no conflict with him,
but his words were irritating me unreasonably. I resolved to go
ahead with the next step to shut him up. And that was when it all
went out the window.
    Looking back, it was hard to recall exactly
what he said that caused my anger to explode. Something about
Chevelle that went right through me. What happened next would
likely be repeated through history. I was fairly certain I’d only
intended to shatter the cup in front of him, just to get his
attention.
    Instead, a deafening blast sounded as every
cup on every table in the entire hall burst into pieces at once,
sending shards of pewter glassware flying to clink against walls,
splinter into tables, and generally shower down on everything,
excepting myself, which pretty much gave away the source of the
flare. The fact that I was staring at Dagan clued everyone who’d
not heard his comments in on the cause.
    The room fell silent once again and the drip
of wine from table and stone seemed amplified by it. Red splattered
my guests as if they had attended a massacre and not a feast. The
final few who were still taking in the scene came to join the
others in their gawking of me.
    I realized I was standing, which was slightly
disconcerting considering I couldn’t remember doing it. I glanced
down to see my own wineglass sat undisturbed, my person and all
that surrounded me in an arm’s length radius untouched by the
destruction that blanketed the rest of the hall.
    There was no question I had instilled fear in
them. My task was complete and I