“And it was on the steps of this Palace in which we now stand where the assassin was felled by your daughter’s dagger, was it not?” Drakkar returned and he saw Aurora’s teeth clench.
Atticus butted in. “This is true, Drakkar, but the Fyngaardians are sophisticated and cultured. A doubling of the king’s guard and the men of The Drakkar wandering the city will cause unease. They are unused to this. Especially if their Winter Princess wanders her city under heavy guard. Normally, she wanders it freely and her guard, as it didn’t need to be,” he stated this unable to hide his pride, “was never heavy.”
“They can have the guard, my men and a secure princess or they can have Baldur’s rule,” Drakkar clipped. “Which do you think they would choose?”
Atticus closed his mouth.
Drakkar continued and when he did, his voice was low. “I will remind you of what I am sure you will never forget. Finnie is not Sjofn. She has not, from a very young age, participated in the hunt. She has not felled numerous deer and other wild animals. Indeed, the sight of a dead deer made her visibly retch. She does not carry a dagger on her person at all times and if she did, she would have no idea how to use it. Your daughter proved she could defend her person and her guard understood even before she proved it that, in such an event, she could handle herself.” He paused to drive his point home. “My Finnie cannot.”
“We understand, Drakkar,” Atticus replied, his voice low as well but his was placating.
Drakkar swept his gaze through Aurora before he locked his eyes on his king.
Then he said what he had called them both there to hear, what they both needed to understand and what they both needed to repeat into the right ears until the words swept Lunwyn and, indeed, the entirety of the Northlands.
“Indeed, I believe you do but you must now understand this. I have vowed to my Finnie that nothing will harm her, nothing will even touch her, and that I will keep myself from harm.” He bent at the waist taking himself forward two inches toward his king when he finished, “If she comes to any harm, if she is even touched, I will command it instantly and the drakkar will rise.”
Even Aurora pulled in an audible breath as Atticus’s eyes grew wide and his face again paled.
“Drakkar –” Atticus started, his tone now downright soothing but Drakkar shook his head.
“I will call the dragon, Atticus, I vow to you, I will call them all. They will sweep this land at my command and I’ll have your throne. You know I do not wish it but I will take it and the fire of my dragons will melt every flake of snow and every sheet of ice across this land and with it everything in their path and they will do this as my vengeance for any harm coming to Finnie. If you do not do all in your power to see that my wife is safe, regardless she is no longer a daughter who has your blood in her veins which means a child without your blood will eventually sit on your throne, I will call the dragon. I will not delay. I vow this to you.”
“You are heard, Drakkar,” Atticus whispered.
“Be certain the right people hear it too,” Drakkar replied.
Atticus nodded.
Drakkar’s eyes moved to Aurora and she was observing him closely but did so giving nothing away.
But he knew she heard him too. Aurora always heard. Aurora made an art of listening.
He straightened and nodded to his sovereigns by name but not by right then turned to go, muttering, “We are done. I’m away to bathe and then get to my bride.”
He’d almost gained the door when Aurora called his name.
He turned and caught her eyes.
“Your…” she too hesitated before she said softly, “Finnie. How did her parents die?”
“I do not know,” Drakkar replied. “The elves did not tell me.”
She nodded and he started to turn again when she again called his name so he stopped and raised impatient brows to her.
“She came to…” another pause then a very soft, “a whole other world just to…” she pulled in a slight breath, “see them?”
“Indeed,” Drakkar answered. “And in doing so, to see you,” he clarified.
Aurora held his eyes.
Then she observed quietly, “She must have loved them very much.”
“No,” Drakkar stated. “In the last days as I told her of you, any mention, even in passing, of your names, her eyes would light, her cheeks would pink with excitement, her attention, always avid, would grow intense. She did not love her parents very much, my queen. They were her world. And she journeyed from that world to have them back. That is something beyond love but I don’t know what it is. What I do know is that they must have been remarkable to deserve that devotion.”
Aurora held his eyes and as she did she gave him something she’d never given him nor had he ever seen her give anyone else, even her husband.
She visibly showed vulnerability.
Drakkar watched Queen Aurora pull her lips between her teeth as her eyes got bright with unshed tears. Then she released her lips and swallowed, blinking and the brightness in her eyes disappeared.
Then she said quietly, “I look forward to knowing your Finnie, Drakkar.”
“I can assure you, you do,” Drakkar replied quietly back, dipped his chin to her and to his king then he walked out of the room.
* * * * *
Bathed and dressed for dinner, Frey moved down the hall to the door of the rooms he would be sharing with his wife in order to have a brief moment with Finnie prior to escorting her to dinner.
He was pleasantly contemplating how he would spend that brief moment as he turned the knob and entered their rooms.
He got two steps in, caught sight of his wife and stopped dead.
Finnie was sitting in an armchair across the great space, her knees tight to her chest, a winter white blanket tucked around her and her cat Penelope was curled in a ball in the seat by her hip. Her head was bowed to a book, her white-blonde hair had been curled in a riot of waves and ringlets that fell down her back but was pulled up at the sides in jeweled clips. Her face was made up in a way that managed to succeed in what, until gazing on her, Frey would have thought was the impossible task of enhancing her already significant beauty and he could see her even more generous than normal display of cleavage coming forth from a gown of shimmering ice blue that was exceedingly becoming to her complexion and coloring. All of this was to such an extreme, he had to stop dead to give himself a chance to take it in.
Her head came up and her eyes slowly turned to him and when the fullness of their beauty hit him, Frey considered skipping dinner altogether. And as he considered this he decided that later, much later, they could have something sent up.
This idea fled his mind when she said softly, yet listlessly, “Hey. You’re back.”
Then she turned back to her book.
These actions made Frey stay frozen for an altogether different reason as he studied his wife and her demeanor and registered a tone she’d never used and one which by no means suited her.
Then he closed the door and walked into the room, saying, “Your parents would like us to meet them for a drink prior to us sitting down to dinner.”
Her head came up and she turned her eyes to him briefly, not indicating even a hint of excitement at this idea, before she looked away, nodded and then reached to grab a ribbon to put in her book. She did this, closed it, set it on the table beside the chair and then gently nudged Penelope, who gave a sleepy, disturbed “mew” before jumping to the floor.
Frey had come to a stop in front of her when she tossed the blanket aside and stood, her eyes averted, then she attempted to scoot out from in front of him to pass him.
His arm instantly moved to hook her at the waist and pull her in front of him, his other one moving around to hold her there.
Her head tipped back to look at him and he felt his gut tighten when he saw a blankness that fitted her mother of this world far more than his Finnie.
“Is something amiss, wee one?” he asked and she shook her
head.
“Just tired and hungry,” she spoke her lie before again looking away and moving to break from his arms.
They tightened and her eyes went back to him.
“I asked what was amiss, Finnie,” he said softly.
“And I told you. I’m tired and hungry,” she lied again. “Can we go to dinner?”
“In a minute,” Frey stated, she pulled in breath and let it out, holding his gaze, waiting then he queried, “What’s the matter?”
Her body grew tight in his arms and her brows inched together with irritation.
“Frey, I told you. I’m tired and hungry.”
“This is not it,” he replied.
“Yes it is,” she returned.
“You’re lying, wife,” he stated and she blinked and after she blinked her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed.
“Did you just say I was lying?” she whispered.
“I did because you are,” he stated.
Her brows snapped together and her irritation grew to visible annoyance. “I am not and anyway, if I was, you don’t know me enough to know when I am.”
“You’re hiding something,” Frey told her, “and I wish to know what it is.”
She pulled against his arms and was nowhere near strong enough to dislodge them but was smart enough to give up before she snapped, “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Wife,” he gave her a gentle squeeze, “I have seen you tired, hungry, and tired and hungry. You do not lose the light in your eyes or the cheerfulness with which you hold your frame even when you are one, the other or both. Now, you’re hiding something and I wish to know what it is.”
She glared up at him but didn’t speak.
So he guessed, “Are you nervous about dinner with your parents?”
Her glare narrowed and she asked, “Why would I be nervous? They’re my parents. We’ve had thousands of dinners.”
This was a lie too though he let that particular one pass.
“All right, if you’re not nervous about your parents, then what are you not sharing with me?”
It was then she stated with not a small amount of ire, “Okay, Frey, actually, I am hiding something and it’s my something to hide and you can be a big, strong guy but if I have something on my mind I don’t wish to share, I don’t have to share it. So, suck it up because I’m not going to share it. All right?”
“Suck it up?” he asked quietly.
“Man up or…” she shook her head with frustration as she searched for words from both their worlds he would understand, “I don’t know. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”
He dipped his face closer to hers and said carefully, “My wee Finnie, I do not like that you would keep anything from me.”
“Tough,” she retorted instantly and his head went back as he again saw the flash in her eyes.
And he suddenly understood what that flash meant.
“Are you angry with me?” Frey asked.
“No,” she lied again.
“Gods,” he stared in her irate, still beautiful eyes, “you are. You’re angry with me.”
“I said I’m not, Frey.”
“You lie again, Finnie. I see it in our eyes, your anger is very clear and you’re not hiding it. What, by the gods, I would like to know is what I did to deserve it. I’ve been gone not two hours.”
She glared at him and kept her mouth shut.
“Finnie, we’ll delay joining your parents until you tell me.”
That was when her cheeks flushed, her eyes blazed and her jaw got tight and before she could rein the words in, she spewed, “That’s okay by me. I’ll just call my maidservants and order trays to be brought up. Maybe, if you’re lucky, Viola will bring them up.”
Bloody hell.
Her bloody maids had been talking.
“Finnie –”
“Let me go, Frey,” she demanded, now pushing at his arms with her hands.
“Wife, look at me,” he ordered, she did and she stilled.
Then she suddenly lost control and shouted, “I said, let me go!”
At her losing hers, Frey felt his temper snag and therefore growled, “Calm down, wife.”
She stopped pushing and glared at him.
Then she stated, “I see, you’re done with her. Three days, was it? That’s a long time. I can see that you would be. Perhaps I should talk to my mother and father, see about letting her go. Would that be good for you?”
Damn it to hell.
Her bloody too informative, gods damned maids.
“Finnie –”
“Well?” she cut him off to demand.
It was then he clipped, perhaps not cleverly, “As you know, wife, the Winter Palace is yours. You live in Fyngaard. Your parents reside in their castle in Snowdon and have returned here to prepare for the Gales. The lovely Viola is in your employ and if it is your wish to let her go then you’ve every right to do so.”
“Then I’ll see to that without delay,” she returned hotly.
“That is your right,” he shot back and continued, most definitely not cleverly, “though it would be a shame to lose her charm serving your table.”
She went completely still in his arms but the pink fled her cheeks as the pain flashed in her eyes.
Gods damn it to hell.
“You didn’t just say that,” she whispered.
He tried to gather her closer but her hands went instantly to his chest to hold herself back.
“Finnie, my love, this discussion is ridiculous. That was years ago. She’s a servant. Just a servant. She didn’t mean a gods damned thing. They never do.”
This, although he would have no way to know it for a woman of his world, a princess especially and Sjofn of the House of Wilde definitely would understand that a man like him would freely dally with a wench like Viola without thought or shame, but apparently a woman of Finnie’s world did not think the same thing and he belatedly understood that it was very clearly the wrong thing to say.
And he would learn this because her beautiful eyes closed down, shut him out and she replied quietly, “Then let me educate you, Frey, if it was years ago or yesterday, if it was a servant or a duchess, to your wife, no matter what you think of her or what you think she thinks of you, it means everything. Now, let me the fuck go so I can have dinner with my parents.”
The ugly word he didn’t understand but she emphasized so tersely caused him to loosen his arms and she pulled instantly away and then didn’t delay in moving directly to the door.
She opened it, stood at it, turned back to him and called, “Are you coming?”
She needed him to guide her to the dining room for she had no earthly clue where she was going and she didn’t wish him to know she didn’t.
And suddenly, their game annoyed him but Frey moved across the room to his wife. However, when he got there, he quietly shut the door.
She glared at it then tipped her head back to glare at him.
He lifted a hand to curl around her neck and bent so his face was close to hers.
“We’ll finish this discussion after dinner,” he said gently.
“No we won’t,” Finnie retorted immediately, her voice a snap and it whipped across his frayed temper like a lash, causing him to lose hold on it so he squeezed her neck and got closer.
“Yes, wife, we will.” His fingers again tensed at her neck, he dipped even closer to her and his voice was a low rumble when he decreed, “We’ll finish a number of things unfinished between us after dinner.”
Her eyes widened, her face paled and her lips parted.
She understood him.
He let her neck go, opened the door, took his wife’s hand and pulled her into the hall.
Then he dragged her down it, his strides long and angry, and as he did so he thought dinner with her parents was going to be interesting.
And it was going to be long.
Too long.
So he was going see to it that it ended as soon as possible.
> He and his bride had vastly more important things to do.
Chapter Fourteen
Sleep Well, Wife
“I’ve a marvelous idea,” my Dad announced as we stood outside the dining room having just finished a sumptuous five course dinner that was sitting like a weight in my stomach, “I’ll order a sleigh brought ‘round and we’ll go to Esmeralda’s for a mug of that warm, liquid chocolate my Sjofn loves so dearly.”
I thought this was a great idea mainly because both my mother and father were acting a lot more patient and even kind to me, if weirdly watchful. Though I put this down to them wondering how things were going with me and Frey and they would wonder since I didn’t speak to him (at all) and barely looked at him all throughout dinner except to glare daggers at him when he specifically asked for Viola to serve him personally.
Yes, oh yes, he did exactly that.
The freaking, dickhead jerk.
And, by the way, Viola was very pretty and she didn’t look a thing like me.
Ugh!
I also thought this was a great idea because it would mean delaying being alone with Frey, something I did not want because I was pretty certain I couldn’t strangle him to death but if I was lucky I might get in a well-aimed kick that if I did it as hard as I wanted, might mean the end to everyone’s hopes that he’d provide a future king.
I also thought this was a great idea because a mug of warm, liquid chocolate sounded pretty good regardless of the dinner sitting like a weight in my stomach (as, everyone knew, chocolate in any form sounded good no matter what) and a place called Esmeralda’s sounded worthy of exploration.
I opened my mouth to agree wholeheartedly with this idea but my freaking, dickhead jerk of a husband got there before me.
“I’m afraid not, Atticus. Finnie explained she was tired prior to us joining you for dinner. So now I think it’s best if my wife and I retire.”
I turned stiltedly to him, tipped my head back and glared more daggers at him.
He looked down at me, completely impervious to my mental daggers then crossed his arms on his chest.
“Understandable, Drakkar,” Dad mumbled then I felt him coming close to me as he continued to mumble, “It’s been a long day for you both.”
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