Wildest Dreams

by Kristen Ashley

  I’d been dancing flat out for what felt like hours and I loved doing it. It was a freaking blast. But the dances in Lunwyn were mostly energetic (there were a few slow ones and all of those I’d danced with Frey) and they were complicated with a lot of lifts that included the man lifting you straight up into the air or whirling you at his side while you held your legs out like a ballerina leaping across the stage, not to mention the footwork, twirls, bobs and dips.

  It was a blast but it was exhausting and I needed a drink.

  When I processed his dejected look, I relented, slightly. “Just a wee rest, the next song after this, we’ll dance, I promise.”

  He grinned and bowed smartly before he straightened and stated, “I’ll be there to take your hand the moment the orchestra delivers its first note.”

  “Wonderful,” I murmured on a small smile and he moved away.

  I did too and I did it while scanning the room. I marked Frey across the vast expanse, standing with a formally attired (and hot looking) Thad and Max. His eyes were on me and I smiled, watched his mouth get soft then he turned his attention back to his men. I kept scanning and saw Aurora dancing with a very fat man who was having trouble lifting her but she didn’t give the slightest indication she feared he was going to drop her to the ground. I kept up my scan and saw Atticus laughing with two men, one in a royal blue shirt, one in a moss green one, a woman wearing the same green at his side. I’d danced twice with my father of this world and I could say two things, one, he was a great dancer and two, I’d never forget either.

  I also noted, as I had since we left Houllebec, that Frey’s men were very visible and very close. Orion, Gunner and Lund were all not five feet away from me in different huddles of people and Annar and Stephan were not much further.

  I found a pocket of space in a corner and dragged my carcass to it while I stopped scanning for the familiar people who made me feel rooted and safe and started scanning for a maid who could get me some much needed champagne.

  Therefore, I had my head turned away when I heard a feminine purr from beside me.

  “She wears the blood.” My head jerked around to see an extortionately beautiful, dark-haired, blue-eyed woman standing beside me who was taller than me by at least three inches and she was wearing a blood red gown that made my cleavage look demure (and mine was nowhere near demure but, honest to God, I saw the edges of the aureoles of her nipples peeping through hers). “This pleases me,” she finished and my eyes snapped from her shocking décolletage to her face.

  Oh shit.

  She was clearly of the House of Drakkar and I saw my mistake immediately. I should have gone to Frey or Father. Princess Sjofn probably knew her and she was a Drakkar. This meant I had to tread carefully because the usual field of landmines around me just tripled.

  I checked myself from sending a panicked look to Frey or Father which would expose too much and swiftly pulled myself together.

  “Hello,” I thought it safe to say.

  She turned to me and leaned her long elegant neck in to touch her cheek to mine before moving back.

  “We’ve not met,” she purred and I felt relief flood through me at this news, “I’m Frey’s cousin, Franka.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Franka,” I said softly, she smiled lazily and I felt the relief disappear as I took in her smile which was not only lazy but weirdly sexual.

  Oh shit.

  “Lovely to meet you too, my Winter Princess.” She kept purring then her eyes dropped to my cleavage and her look at mine was way different than the way I looked at hers.

  Oh shit.

  Okay, I had to be polite, have a short conversation, not say anything stupid and then get the fuck out of there.

  God, I hoped this song didn’t last very long so my eager dance partner would show up and quick.

  “Are you enjoying the Gales?” I asked and watched her lip slightly curl up as her eyes moved from my chest to my face.

  “I spend as much time as possible in Fleuridia,” she informed me, “where they understand the exacting standards of elegance and panache so…” she hesitated then concluded scornfully, “no.”

  I decided not to reply mostly because she was being rude and I was a princess so I didn’t think returning her rudeness, which was what I wanted to do, would be appropriate.

  “However, seeing as my dear cousin Frey has bound himself to our lovely princess, I couldn’t stay away.” She leaned slightly into me and informed me, “Rumors of your beauty run wide, Princess Sjofn, even down in Fleuridia they speak of it.”

  “That’s nice,” I muttered, leaning slightly back to make a point, she caught it and moved away.

  “Though, her interest in swordplay and the hunt and penchant for wearing breeches is also spoken of quite widely.” Her eyes swept me slowly before she concluded, “I see Frey put an end to that.”

  “Not exactly,” I looked away, “although I will say he’s introduced me to more enjoyable pastimes.”

  I looked back at her when she laughed with obvious delight, the sound beautiful, even enthralling, and strangely terrifying.

  Then she murmured, looking under her lashes at me, “She enjoys connubial bliss.”

  I studied her and knew without any doubt she was playing with me.

  And that was when I decided that being a princess sometimes could be set aside. Especially with people I knew my husband did not care for (in the slightest) and I doubted my parents did either.

  So I stated, “Actually, what she enjoys is keeping private matters private.”

  “You brought it up,” she informed me smoothly.

  “Actually, no, you read into what I said,” I returned.

  “Was my reading wrong?” she asked.

  No, it wasn’t. What she was wrong about was continuing to talk about it when I asked her not to do so. And after what Valeria and Eirik had treated Frey and I to I’d suddenly had enough of the Drakkars.

  So I turned to her and said, “If you’re curious about your cousin, which would be repulsive but…” I hesitated, “to each their own, then yes, I greatly enjoy connubial bliss, frequently and vigorously.”

  I knew my mistake at falling to her level when she smiled with sheer pleasure.

  Damn, I’d given her exactly what she wanted.

  Then she turned her head, her eyes moving as if she was looking for something, she found it and tipped up her chin.

  “Champagne,” she muttered, her eyes still aimed elsewhere, I looked where they were aimed and my stomach clutched when I saw Viola nodding her head then moving swiftly toward us with a tray holding two champagne glasses. “We’ll toast your marriage,” Franka suggested.

  I did not want to toast my marriage with Franka Drakkar and I did not want to be confronted with Viola, who had not, since that first night, attended our table. What she did, I didn’t know. I didn’t let her go because it wasn’t her fault Frey had enjoyed her. Unlike me (in both worlds), she had to earn a living. But I did have a quiet word with Jocelyn, who had one with the housekeeper, and I saw Viola no more.

  Until now.

  I tried not to look at her as she approached then I couldn’t tear my eyes away for she was aiming a look of pure venom at me, hatred clear and openly read in her eyes.

  That was when I decided, perhaps upon my return, I would have a word myself with the housekeeper to see about Viola moving on to other employment or perhaps being reassigned to do the laundry.

  She bobbed a curtsy and held up the tray.

  I wanted champagne and that was the only reason I took a glass after Franka took hers and without a backward glance, Viola expertly and swiftly melted into the crowd.

  “To marriage,” Franka lifted her glass and, eyes on me over the rim, she took a sip.

  I wanted a sip, actually, I wanted to down the whole glass but instead I studied her and didn’t take one.

  Then I asked straight out, “Tell me, Franka, are you genuinely pleased your cousin has found someone who makes him happy or are
you just having some fun?”

  She tipped her head to the side and asked back, “Has my handsome cousin found someone who makes him happy?”

  Actually, it hit me right then, he had. And he made no bones about it.

  And that someone was me.

  And at that thought, that quicksand slurped up another foot.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “We’re both very happy,” I told her honestly and slurp! up another foot I went.

  Franka didn’t speak. She inspected my face and she did it closely.

  Then she whispered back, “Gods, you don’t jest.”

  “And why would I jest?” I returned.

  She took another sip of champagne. Then she moved slightly closer and I stiffened but held my ground.

  Then she spoke, “I am not of that bent, my princess, although I must admit I’ve dabbled and, since I’ve dabbled, and enjoyed it when I did, you must know there are those of that bent who feel quite certain you are too. And, I must say, my curiosity for coming here was to gaze upon your beauty and, perhaps, see about, as you put it, having some fun.”

  I stared at her a second before it hit me.

  Hells bells, she thought I was a lesbian.

  Shit.

  “Of course,” she said quietly, her eyes warming, her face showing hunger, “if Frey is dipping into that honey, I know him enough to know he’ll not share so, alas, although you are everything they say you are, I will stand down.”

  Seriously, the Drakkars. I had never, in all my travels, met anyone like them. Not even close. No wonder Frey got the hell out of there as soon as he could.

  “That would please me,” I told her firmly then stressed, “tremendously. But I will say that it is unfortunate for those who are of that bent, as you put it, that you cast your lures as you do. I don’t wish to be offensive but you must know, it’s inelegant and lacks panache.”

  She blinked at me, her chin jerking back as my hit scored and I heard the orchestra stop playing as out of the corner of my eye, as promised, I saw my eager dance partner approaching.

  I turned to a table beside me and set my glass next to another resting there and turned back to Franka.

  “A unique pleasure,” I muttered to her acidly, using Frey’s words as I tipped my chin then turned my head and smiled at my partner who already had his hand extended to me.

  I took it and also took another cue from Frey and didn’t look back.

  And then, luckily, that unpleasant meeting was forced from my brain since I had to concentrate on the dance, which was one of the more complicated ones.

  And since I was concentrating, it wasn’t until after a woman bumped into me and my partner clutched my hand, stopped dancing and pulled me close that I quit concentrating. I looked up at him to see his face pale, eyes wide and he was looking toward the corner I had not long ago fled.

  I turned that way and as I did I saw all the people on the dance floor had their eyes riveted that way too. I also heard the coughing, which was uncontrollable, and as my eyes moved to the corner where I’d been standing not three minutes ago, I saw an elderly woman in a deep purple gown start retching violently.

  But there was blood already dribbling from her lip.

  She had one hand to her throat, her eyes were wide with terror and her other hand held a champagne glass, the contents of which sloshed out as she coughed so deeply, it hurt to hear.

  There was a low murmur running through the crowd as she struggled and a man in a deep purple shirt had his hand on her back and looked to be trying to guide her to a chair when it happened.

  A profuse gurgle of blood poured out of her mouth.

  I took a horrified step back and sucked in a shocked breath as small screams and more gasps were heard. But still more blood rushed forth from the poor woman’s throat as her skin turned livid, her eyes bugged out hideously and then she collapsed to the floor.

  It was at that exact moment a hand curled around to cover my eyes and I was turned until I felt my front pressed into Frey’s.

  “Find Franka. Find that bloody maid. And get your hands on that gods damned glass,” he growled, his voice a fearsome rumble, I tipped back my head and his hand slid away. One glance up at his face set in granite told me he’d busted the scales and he was in the Anger Danger Zone.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Max start winding urgently toward the crowd that had closed around the woman but Orion, Gunner and Lund were already there.

  Before I could say a word, Frey shifted me into the waiting Thad’s arms and grunted, “Her room. Now. No one attends her. No one.”

  Then Frey turned the opposite direction and moved into the ballroom in a direction I noted took him to Franka in her blood red dress but Thad was pulling me through the shoving, slightly frightened, slightly curious crowd and I lost sight of him. Then I saw Atticus pushing his way toward me, his face pale, his frightened eyes locked on me.

  “Finnie,” he said when he got close but Thad positioned himself between me and Father and kept pulling me toward the hall.

  “Stand back, your grace,” Thad warned as Father kept moving toward us.

  Atticus’s eyes shot to Thad and the fear left them as anger, shock and royal affront filled them.

  “I beg your pardon?” he clipped.

  “Orders of The Drakkar,” Thad stated, Atticus’s mouth dropped open and Thad yanked me through a bunch of people who were streaming into the ballroom to see what all the commotion was about and then we were in the hall.

  He didn’t waste any time pulling me through the hall, down the stairs and to my rooms. Then he didn’t waste any time ascertaining they were empty.

  Then he took hold of both my arms and bent so his face was close to mine.

  “Bolt the door behind me. I need to see what’s happening and I, or another of Frey’s men, will be back to guard your door. Do not open it to anyone, Princess Finnie, I don’t care who they are and I don’t care if you trust them. You open this door to Frey and me. Only Frey and me. Am I understood?” he asked.

  “What’s happening?” I whispered.

  “Am I understood, Finnie?” he repeated.

  “Thad, what’s happening?” I repeated too but louder.

  Thad stared at me a second as if trying to decide something.

  Then he decided. “That glass was served to you by a maid known to Frey. Frey marked it when you put it down and he marked it when that woman accidentally picked it up. Tonight, my princess, someone tried to poison you.”

  My mind filled with that woman pouring forth blood and my head got light.

  “Gods, don’t go down, I don’t have time to revive you,” Thad muttered, giving me a gentle shake.

  “I’m not going to go down,” I whispered.

  “Your eyes, princess, focus on me,” he urged.

  I focused on him. Then I asked, “But my Father –”

  He got closer and his fingers gave me a slight squeeze before he reminded me softly, giving me the knowledge that he held information I was surprised he had, “Finnie, your father isn’t your father. Any child you put on the throne will not be his blood. I’m sorry, your grace, but in this land and every other, you have one ally and that is The Drakkar.”

  I blinked at him as my heart twisted. It did this in a quick wrench that hurt so badly, it was a wonder I didn’t pass out.

  “Bolt the door, a man you can trust will be here shortly,” he muttered, I nodded then he gave my arms another squeeze and he took off.

  After he left, I went directly to the door, locked it and threw all three bolts home.

  Then I turned my back to it, covered my mouth with my hand and stared at my beautiful room.

  Then I sucked in a deep breath, pushed away, walked to the bed where Penelope had lifted her head at the commotion and was yawning huge. I scooped her up, she protested, I shushed her and held her tight as I waited for the return of The Drakkar.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lack of Vigilance

  “By the gods,�
�� Frey Drakkar heard muttered in horror behind him, he turned from the broken, bleeding woman at his feet and saw King Atticus and Queen Aurora had entered the room.

  Atticus was the one who muttered and he, indeed, looked horrified as his eyes stayed glued to the woman on the floor. Aurora looked pale but her eyes, also on the woman bleeding and curled into herself, were shielded.

  “Your daughter has a traitor on her staff,” Drakkar growled, his gut tight, his neck tight, bile in his throat at the thought he’d actually had his cock in the bitch who’d schemed to murder his Finnie, delivering the poison her gods damned self. “She’s confessed. A physician should attend her once my men have transferred her to jail.”

  Both Atticus and Aurora’s eyes shot to him and Drakkar forced himself from his thoughts in order to remain focused and take in every infinitesimal nuance of both king and queen.

  “This maid poisoned Finnie?” Atticus whispered, still horrified and that was all Drakkar read on the king’s face.

  He read something else on Aurora’s. A flash of anger mixed with more than a little bit of accusation.

  An interesting reaction and an uncomfortable one.

  Drakkar lifted his chin to Oleg who moved to Viola, hefting her over his shoulder with complete immunity to her whimpers and cries as he carried her out, exactly as he’d been immune to the same as he’d extracted her confession.

  Drakkar’s eyes slid through his cousin who was standing against the wall, arms crossed on her chest, eyes, revoltingly excited.

  She’d enjoyed watching Oleg obtain information from Viola.

  A mistake. He’d thought it would bring forth fear.

  But she was a Drakkar. He should have known better.

  He looked to Aurora and stated, “Yes. Viola accepted payment to prepare and deliver a poisoned glass to Finnie.” Atticus and Aurora stared at him and he continued, “She’s also given us another name to add to Berg Enger’s. Hernod Grieg, they’re associates.”

  He continued to regard the king and queen closely. Atticus already knew that Berg Enger was the Lunwynian who had paid for the assassination attempt that had failed in Houllebec. Enger had been found by Drakkar’s man Quincy and had not, yet, provided them with further information and, considering their tactics, it was highly likely he didn’t know much more than he’d already told them.