Wildest Dreams f-1

by Kristen Ashley

  Oh shit.

  Kell went on. “They’re flashin’ a sun message. Bloody Baldur knows you’re here, he’s camped close and he wants you and Frey to attend him.”

  Oh shit!

  “A sun message?” I asked.

  “Sun,” he grunted. “Mirror. Message.”

  That was all he said but I put two and two together and figured that the riders were flashing a mirror at the sun in some way that the men on the ship could read.

  And that message was, my uncle… who was not my uncle… wanted me and my husband… who was not here but instead on a clandestine mission to steal property from Middleland soil some weeks after, of course, he and his men had helped the king’s captive sorceress (and forced mistress) to escape… to come and see him.

  This was not good.

  “I’m guessin’ from that look on yer face you’re readin’ this situation as not good,” Kell accurately deduced then without a breath continued. “We’re exposed. Until nightfall, without them seein’, we can’t get a man to shore to get a message to Frey. And, we got a command from a king on our hands, one we cannot defy without good reason and we got ourselves a couple a’ those, but none of ‘em are ones we can share. And Baldur is not the kind ‘a king who’s big on bein’ defied. Not to mention, we send you in, you got no idea who this blighter is.”

  By the way, Kell, like all of Frey’s closest men, knew who I was and where I’d come from.

  “Thanks for summing that up, Kell,” I said softly and his eyes narrowed.

  Then he stated, “I ain’t here to sum it up, princess, I’m here ‘cause I’m plum outta ideas and wondered if you got some. The king’s men cannot board this ship.”

  “Why?” I asked and he gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher because I didn’t know Kell all that well but I had a feeling there was something on the ship the king’s men couldn’t see.

  Shit!

  Thinking fast, I suggested, “Can you send a message that I’m indisposed, um… not well and ask the king to wait until tomorrow when I’ll hopefully feel better? That way we’ll have time to make up a story and form a plan.”

  He crossed his arms on his chest and his irritated impatient look got more irritated and impatient.

  “Tried that. They told us to send a boat ashore anyway as the king’s concerned about his niece and wants to send his men across to board in order to ascertain she’s all right.”

  I blinked then asked, “How long have they been out there?”

  “Over an hour.”

  I blinked again and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  He uncrossed his arms and planted his fists on his hips and asked back, “And why would I do that?”

  I put my hands to my hips too and shot back, “Oh, I don’t know, Kell. Probably so I’d have more time to consider this dilemma and maybe come up with an answer rather than receiving the news there was a dilemma at the last possible moment so my only choice is to freak out and make a rushed decision about what the heck we’re going to do. Jeez, two heads are better than one,” I ended on an annoyed snap.

  “Not when one ‘a those heads belongs to a woman,” Kell fired back.

  Oh no he did not.

  I glared at him.

  Then I ordered, “Prepare a boat and pick men you trust to accompany me but the party must include Gunner and Stephan.”

  It was his turn to blink. Then he breathed out a, “What?” that clearly stated he thought I was insane.

  “Prepare a boat and pick men you trust to accompany me,” I repeated.

  “Woman –” Kell started but I interrupted him.

  “Kell, we have a demand from a king. We’re in his waters and my husband is in his country doing something he will probably not like. Frey is not set to return for days.” I leaned forward and reminded him, “We need to buy time and the only one who can do that is me.”

  “Princess, that man has known the other you since she was a baby and you have never seen him in your life,” he reminded me back.

  I threw out a hand and declared, “I’ll wing it.”

  His brows shot together again and he grunted, “Wing it?”

  “Make it up as I go along, wing it. Now send a message that I’m rousing myself for the journey, prepare a boat and select men you trust to accompany me.”

  He didn’t move. He scowled.

  Then he announced, “Drakkar is not gonna like this, woman.”

  I didn’t figure he would. Then again, I figured he’d come to understand I had no choice.

  With any luck.

  “I’ll deal with that later.”

  “Hopefully it won’t be much later, say, he already knows what’s happenin’, he’s makin’ his play and that play is abducting you, incarceratin’ your rounded arse in one ‘a his castles and sendin’ word to your father that he ain’t real happy his niece and nephew-in-law are runnin’ amok in his kingdom. Somethin’, by the by, your papa don’t know balls about.”

  Hmm.

  “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” I decided.

  Kell scowled at me some more but still didn’t move.

  “Kell, time is wasting,” I reminded him.

  He ignored me and continued to scowl at me. Then something shifted on his face, the scowl was still there, just not as severe and something had lit in his eyes.

  I didn’t have time to decipher it. I had no time at all and I needed to get changed before all this went down. I wasn’t wearing breeches to this meeting. I was meeting my uncle, king to princess, and I needed an outfit that would remind him of that.

  So I prompted, somewhat loudly, “Kell!”

  That was when he muttered, “He said you had the spirit.”

  “What?” I asked impatiently and Kell’s unfocused eyes focused on me.

  “Nothin’,” he grunted. “I’ll send the message, prepare the boat and gather the men.” He lifted a finger and jabbed it at me. “But, woman, I’m gonna be one ‘a those men. You stay close to me, you pay attention to me and you learn real quick to read me. We got no choice, you and me, but to get through this bloody mess together. Don’t go goin’ princess on me and don’t go goin’ cockamamie on me. Yeah?”

  My shoulders straightened in umbrage and I declared, “I’m never cockamamie.”

  “Woman, you transported yourself to a whole ‘nother world not knowin’ where your arse would land or what it would land in. Most women got at least some cockamamie in ‘em but you are head-to-toe cockamamie,” he returned.

  That was arguable but I didn’t have time to argue it now.

  “Kell, time is wasting,” I reminded him and the scowl shot back to severe.

  Then he burst out, “Balls, I see it in yer eyes. You’re gonna go cockamamie on me.”

  “Kell!” I snapped loudly.

  “All right, all right, smooth your knickers, princess,” he said, hands up but pressing down. “You got an hour then your arse is on deck.”

  “Right,” I replied.

  He sucked in breath and seared me with another scowl. Then he shook his head and exited the cabin, slamming the door behind him simply, I guessed, because he was a curmudgeon and didn’t want me to forget it.

  I stared at the door and, with that confrontation over, the coming one loomed in front of me.

  I had two choices, freak out or get my shit sorted.

  I rushed to my trunks to get my shit sorted.

  * * * * *

  First off, it was clear we’d travelled far enough south that Middleland, unlike Lunwyn, was not charmingly crusted with ice and snow. I’d noticed that from viewing shore from the ship and I’d definitely noticed the air was warmer, not well above freezing but not below it.

  As Kell, myself, Gunner, Stephan and three of Frey’s crew acting as impromptu royal guards made our way to my uncle’s camp on horses provided for us, I also noticed that Middleland wasn’t that charming at all. It wasn’t exactly barren but it also wasn’t colorful or overly fertile. It seemed bleak
, craggy and dark and although the days were longer, that wasn’t exactly a boon because Middleland would probably look better in the moonlight.

  Seeing it, I thought that perhaps Sjofn’s grandfather had a favorite son after all for Atticus definitely got the better deal when his father was doling out kingdoms.

  Once we’d navigated the dark rocks that made up the shore and spread inland, it didn’t take long for the tents to come into view. The sun was beginning to set but I could see they were striped wide in red and black. They were large, there were several of them, they each had a number of peaks and all of these peaks had red and black checked pennants flying.

  We were escorted by the king’s men of which there were twelve (my opinion only, but I thought this was overkill). They all were wearing amour breastplates with black and red dragons painted on them, high black boots that came up to their thighs, poofy black shorts and they also had red and black striped poofs of material around their shoulders but their biceps and forearms were covered solely in black. On their heads they had gleaming helmets with a Mohawk arrangement of stiff black and red feathers. All their weapons (swords on scabbards attached to their saddles and a knife at their belts) shone as if they’d never been used.

  I read from their number and attire that Baldur liked pomp and circumstance. Frey’s men wore what they wore; there was no uniform of The Drakkar or even of his merchant ships. My father’s men wore a uniform but it was warm, sturdy, comfortable and utilitarian. All the heads of the Houses I’d met at the Gales had worn their colors proudly but they let their wives display the finery that indicated their wealth. The men’s clothes were excellent quality and there were touches that indicated affluence but none of them were overt about it.

  This pageantry to meet your niece in a tent on a desolate plain seemed a bit much and said a great deal about my uncle.

  His men led us straight to the biggest tent and when I say that I mean it was the biggest tent by far, at least double the size of any other, maybe more, and as large as a small house. The entryway had a ten foot long awning stretching out from it along which four guards stood. It was clear these guards were more important for their feathers in their helmets were bigger and each had a ruby in the hilt of the daggers on their belts.

  Immediately upon arrival, there was a wee situation when we stopped and Gunner (most of the men I knew well were with Frey, however he’d left Gunner and Stephan behind, likely in case something like this occurred) dismounted instantly and came to help me off my horse. Unfortunately, one of Baldur’s men did the same and Gunner didn’t take kindly to this.

  As glowers were exchanged and chests puffed up, an idea hit me and I was both thankful that it did because I’d been wracking my brain since Kell left the cabin as to what I intended to do (to no avail) and also I hoped I could pull it off.

  “Please,” I fake rasped and it sounded so good even I was surprised at how real it sounded. I saw instantly so was Gunner who knew I didn’t have a sore throat. It also surprised the guard and Kell who’d stopped his horse close to mine and I felt his eyes come to me. “I am comfortable with my guard. If you will allow…” I kept rasping then trailed off, grimaced in fake pain and wrapped one of my hands daintily around my throat as if those mere words had caused me more than mild suffering.

  The guard looked at me and his face softened. I smiled what I hoped was a benevolent princess smile on him, his lips tipped up and I figured I’d pulled off the princess smile. He gave a small bow then stepped back gallantly. Gunner reached up and pulled me down but he did it so my face stayed parallel to his for the barest second and I saw his blue eyes smile.

  I didn’t smile back because his back was to the guard and mine wasn’t but I rolled my eyes the barest bit. Then he set me on my feet and I leaned into him like I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up. He took his cue and hooked my arm firmly in the crook of his elbow before he escorted me to the awning where Kell joined me on my other side. I grabbed onto him too (might as well go for the gusto) and they led me through the awning and inside the tent.

  If I thought the tents, pennants and uniformed soldiers were a spectacle, they were nothing compared to the opulence I encountered inside. I tried not to look as surprised as I was at the overabundance of fur (the ground was covered in it, yes, covered), sheets of red and black silk draping the walls, the ornate, heavily carved, shining wood furniture, the gleaming silver candelabrum all over the place and the two, large, overdone thrones (yes, thrones) sitting smack in the middle of the tent on a fur-covered rise.

  Holy moly.

  One could say I was not averse to luxury and indulged in it frequently but this was way over the top.

  There were more guards inside (eight to be exact) and the feathers in their helmets were even bigger and they had elaborate jaw and chin guards wrapped around the lower half of their faces.

  And sitting on the thrones (one much grander than the other) were two men.

  On the bigger one was a graying, jowly man with a large belly and a larger gold crown on his head. This was decorated with black fur and inset with rubies and diamonds. He wore his own poofy shorts, these striped in black and red and also a breastplate painted with a dragon but it looked funny considering it had to be made with a bulge to cover his big belly. Hilariously (I thought), at his booted foot there was a helmet with a huge spray of red and black feathers shooting straight out of the top, this I read as his indication that he was battle ready at all times when he was, clearly, not.

  But as amusing as this was, I didn’t find him humorous because his eyes were directed right at me and I saw at once they were mean.

  At his side sat a very handsome, much younger man not wearing a breastplate, poofy shorts or even a crown but black breeches, shined black boots, a red poofy-sleeved shirt with laces at the collar and a black, brocade vest. His ensemble, even with the red poofy shirt, was understated but elegant.

  My uncle and cousin.

  And, by the way, my uncle, clearly, was not an identical twin with Father.

  There was a man standing to the right and behind Prince Broderick’s chair and he, too, was dressed like Broderick but his shirt was pristine white and he had a thin scarf with a silk fringe wrapped jauntily around his neck.

  A not-so-wild guess (considering the scarf), the lover, Phobin.

  I let Kell and Gunner go and dropped to a low, formal curtsy which was my guess at what he would expect regardless that he thought we shared blood and royal status.

  “Rise, my niece,” I heard him command in a voice as pompous as his surroundings and I did what I was told.

  Then I hoped to all that was holy that I read even the slightest hint of Sjofn’s feelings for these two in her letters and I smiled dutifully at her uncle but far more warmly at her cousin.

  Baldur inclined his head.

  Broderick smiled warmly back.

  Okay.

  Phew.

  That seemed to go well.

  “Come, my dear, embrace your brethren,” Baldur ordered, I looked back at him, saw he had his hands to the arms of his throne, appearing like he was preparing to shift his bulk from the chair and I lifted a fluttering hand to my throat.

  “If it pleases you, your grace,” I rasped harshly and saw Baldur blink before his brows drew together and he sat back, “for your welfare, I will not.” I pushed out, moved my hand from my throat to my mouth, coughed roughly yet delicately (yep, I pulled that off and was pretty freaking proud of myself doing it), dropped my hand and finished, “I’ve caught a chill in my throat and I do not wish you to catch it.”

  “Yer grace,” Kell cut in and I turned to him to see he was still bent low, eyes to the furs at our feet, “if we could have your leave to get our princess a chair. She’s unwell and don’t have a lot ‘a energy.”

  “See to a chair for Princess Sjofn, Phobin,” Baldur ordered, the face of the man behind Broderick grew slightly hard at being ordered about then he moved off toward some furniture sitting at the side of t
he tent.

  The good news was, Phobin and Broderick were here so they weren’t wherever Frey was.

  The other good news was, so far, I was pulling this off and Kell had fallen in with the plan.

  And luckily, there was no bad news.

  Yet.

  “Guard of Sjofn, you may also rise,” Baldur muttered distractedly and I looked to my left to see Gunner had, as well, been bowed to this king all this time.

  What a dick, leaving them like that. It wasn’t like it was hours but still.

  I shook off this irritation as Phobin brought me a chair. I smiled at him then collapsed in it pretending to pretend I was not actually collapsing in it but regally taking a very needed load off my princess feet.

  When I was settled, Gunner and Kell took their places, Gunner at my left back and Kell at the right.

  “If you are so unwell, niece, why did you make the journey? My men could easily have attended you on your husband’s vessel,” Baldur made a good point and I looked at him.

  Shit. This was true.

  I thought fast.

  Then I rasped, “You are my father’s brother but you are also king.” He winced at my voice with the addition of a curled lip to show his distaste, the latter of which I didn’t like all that much. I mean, I wasn’t actually sick but he didn’t know that and no one could help being sick. “It is my duty to attend you,” I concluded.

  “That is my sweet Sjofn,” Broderick said softly in a lovely, deep, gentle voice and my eyes went to him to see his were soft and warm on me. “Always putting duty above self.”

  Well, not always.

  I obviously didn’t mention this but tipped my head to the side and smiled at him.

  “And your new husband?” Baldur asked, I looked back at him and opened my mouth to speak.

  “Inland,” Kell grunted before I could say anything, Baldur’s eyes narrowed in annoyance and they shot to Kell.

  “Did I give you leave to speak for my niece?” he demanded to know.

  “You didn’t, father, but you should,” Broderick stated firmly but softly. “It’s clear Sjofn experiences pain every time she does.”

  Baldur sniffed to communicate he acceded this point then addressed Kell. “And what does your master do inland?”