Midnight Soul (Fantasyland #5)

by Kristen Ashley

  * * * * *

  Noc

  One Month Later

  Standing on a balcony of Tor’s palace in Bellebryn, the sun warming through his clothes, the breeze from the emerald waters of the Green Sea making a place that was the sheer perfection of a goddamned, real-life fairytale even more perfect, he bent his head to the thick sheet of expensive paper in his hand.

  It was a letter that had just been delivered to him by Tor (Noc was careful how he went about the palace and the city, considering he looked just like its ruler, without the scar, and so they arranged it so Cora was with him if he went exploring—the scar meaning he had to wear a big hat that was completely ridiculous, but at least it didn’t have the totally ridiculous feather most of the other men’s hats had in that country).

  Tor had also told him that in order for that letter to come through royal post—something that meant missives arrived a lot faster than normal post, Aurora kindly having allowed Franka to take advantage of that—she’d had to have written it within weeks of him leaving.

  This meant Noc read the letter with a smile on his face, that smile there for more than just getting his first letter from his girl.

  My dearest Noc,

  Damn good start.

  There is much to say but not much I can write, I’m sure you understand my meaning.

  She was not wrong about that.

  But he got from her tone her witch training was going well.

  As you know, Valentine has been keeping me company a great deal. I enjoy her presence and our many conversations.

  Yep. Her training was going well.

  Noc’s smile deepened.

  Brikitta has begun to show and as such, she’s ordered her clothing from when she had Timofei in her belly out of storage.

  You can rest assured I shared with her this was preposterous and demanded she go into Älvkyla with me to requisition a new wardrobe.

  She explained this was quite the waste of coin as she would need a further selection of garments for when she grew more with her child.

  I explained that I was ludicrously rich (as, now, was she, thanks to me, but I didn’t have a burgeoning family to look after) and my sister was not going to be wearing the fashions of more than two years previous while she nurtured my future niece or nephew (I’ve decided on niece and Brikitta has secretly agreed with me, Kristian will be happy with whatever, but as a man, he is very bad at hiding that he wishes another son).

  Of course, Brikitta, who I’ve noted has a highly unattractive stubborn streak, flatly denied this request and when I went into town and ordered her clothing myself, she complained to Kristian.

  Kristian brought his wife’s concerns to me. To say he was not interested in them and therefore did not squander much time in attempting to convince me to change my mind would be quite the understatement.

  Thus Brikitta’s new garments started arriving yesterday.

  She looks quite fetching in them.

  Kristian agrees.

  Brikitta does too, but she has not admitted this aloud.

  Though, Timofei has found his way to share he much likes them as well.

  He is, of course, becoming brighter and brighter as the days pass. I’m no clairvoyant but I feel fairly certain he will be Head of the Drakkar House when it’s his time. Ousting one of the Frey’s direct line to do so will be quite the achievement, but mark me, this will surely happen.

  There’s not much else to tell, except both Josette and I find it highly amusing that Kristian and Brikitta’s servants have taken to calling her “Mistress Josette” due to the fact I treat her with such familiarity and we often share breakfasts and even lunches together.

  I have not disabused them of the notion of doing this. She’s far superior to any I’ve known in her profession so this show of respect is due her.

  At that, Noc started laughing.

  Only Franka could make treating a servant with equality seem like she did it with superiority.

  As I feared, there is naught else to share.

  Though I do look forward to receiving your communiqués.

  And I very much hope you’re enjoying your adventures.

  Now, I shall bid you farewell until my next undoubtedly titillating missive where I’ll regale you with news of the next set of garments I’ll press on Brikitta and perhaps how I liked, or disliked, the soup I’d taken at lunch.

  Until then…and until we meet again,

  Always yours,

  Franka

  Since he’d sent a letter from the port city in Lunwyn (the part of it that used to be Middleland), and he’d used Finnie’s dispatch to do it, Franka should be getting his letter any day now, if she hadn’t already gotten it.

  That didn’t stop him from walking into the room behind him, his bedroom in this huge palace that Disney animators would freak over, and go right to the desk in that room.

  He sat.

  He pulled out paper.

  And he shared news that might be more adventurous than hers, but she wouldn’t think so since she’d seen it and done it all before.

  That didn’t stop him either.

  In fact, he wrote three pages of the stuff.

  Then he sealed it and found Cora so she could send it.

  This she arranged before she gave him a hat and took him to Tor’s horse, Salem, an outrageously handsome animal (and one who could talk to him, right in his head, if that shit could be believed).

  Before getting to that world, Noc had been horseback riding twice in his life.

  He’d been on a horse a shit ton since they left The Finnie—Frey’s kickass galleon that was straight from a pirate movie—in Bellebryn’s port.

  And off he went with Cora, having to pretend to be Tor until they left the city and galloped across a countryside where the air glittered.

  Fucking glittered.

  It was amazing.

  He missed Franka. He missed just looking at her, but he missed more how damned funny she was, how cute she could be and how her trusting him the way she did, the way she showed she did, the way he knew she didn’t give to anybody (but maybe Josette, and perhaps the dead Antoine, but Noc didn’t go there) made him feel.

  But he sure as fuck was glad she’d made the decision she’d made.

  Because he wouldn’t have known what he was missing.

  But he was sure glad he didn’t miss it.

  And he had it.

  But in the end, he’d have her too.

  * * * * *

  Franka

  Two and a half months later

  Hey there, Sugarlips,

  I should not smile. I really should not. He was incorrigible. Even in the written word.

  I nevertheless smiled.

  I’m guessing you know Finnie and Frey have returned to Lunwyn since they should have gotten there a while ago and brought my last letter with them.

  He was correct in this. They had.

  Finnie wanted to continue on with me, but Frey wanted her home. She’s getting along in her pregnancy and he wants her close to a doctor he trusts. That didn’t go over real well with Finnie. She thinks like we do in our world, obviously, and most women work until they practically go into labor…

  How bizarre!

  And dangerous!

  …and they had a big blowout about it. Frey won. Not because Finnie agrees with him that advanced pregnancy makes a woman invalid, when it doesn’t. But he’s a dude and dudes tend to express worry through anger and bossiness. She’s been with him long enough to know that so they took off and passed me off to Achilles, Apollo’s cousin (in case you haven’t met him, tho’ with the incestuous way those Houses are, you probably have) who, with some of Lo’s other guys, we went through Hawkvale and now we’re in Fleuridia.

  Gotta say, I’m not much of a fan of south Lunwyn. There’s a bleakness to it that’s actually pretty, in its way, but it’s also depressing. I can see why that asshole, Baldur, didn’t like what he got in the cutting-a-country-in-two bargain. Doesn’t exc
use him being an asshole, but I can see that.

  Bellebryn and Hawkvale, I don’t have to tell you, are fucking amazing. There’s a lot of beauty in my world and you’ll see that, I’ll make sure of it.

  But there’s nothing like this. It’s so pure, it’s like magic. It almost doesn’t seem real and the fact it is makes it even more beautiful.

  It also makes me wonder what my world was like a hundred years ago, two hundred, a thousand. Was it like this? Did we fuck it up with all our garbage?

  If we did, you’ll see how much that sucks.

  What’s worse is that we’re still doing it.

  I won’t get into that.

  What I’ll say is, Fleuridia is my favorite, outside Lunwyn.

  Oh my.

  He felt the same as me!

  It has the magic and the beauty of Bellebryn and Hawkvale, but with sophistication. The food here is unbelievable. The wine, even better.

  He was quite right!

  People are friendly, but not in your face about it (that could be me having trouble getting around in Bellebryn and Hawkvale, looking like Tor—here, some look at me with curiosity, but most people don’t pay me any mind at all, and gotta admit, that’s a relief—I don’t know how Tor does it, that’s gotta suck).

  Lahn and Circe went on ahead ages ago because Lahn, like Frey, wants Circe at their house in Korwahn when she’s getting closer to the time. They asked me to meet them there and from what they said about Korwahk, I’d like to go.

  But it’s gonna be hard leaving here. We’re headed to Benies to hook up with Apollo and Maddie. I figure my time is getting short, at most, I have three months left and it takes forever to get anywhere. We’ll see. I’d like to take in all I can but if Benies is half as awesome as the rest of Fleuridia is, I gotta spend some time eating and drinking my way through it. So maybe we can talk Valentine into sending us to Korwahk some other time. It’d be good to catch up with Lahn and Circe and meet their new arrival after he or she shows.

  He was right again. That would be good.

  And I liked how he said “talk Valentine into sending us” because he’d said “us.”

  Though even as much as I liked it, I wondered at it.

  What did “us” mean to Noc?

  What did it even mean to me?

  Those questions gave me the unusual sensation of my heart fluttering in my chest at the same time dread settled heavy in my belly.

  I set both aside and refocused on Noc’s missive.

  One other thing I gotta do is make sure Valentine transports the five cases of wine I’ve bought from the vineyards we’re stopping at along the way. Have a word with her about that, would you? And just to say, sweetheart, the way me and the guys are going, by the time this letter gets to you, that could be fifteen cases of wine.

  This would mean I’d have Fleuridian wine in the new world.

  And Noc to share it with (for it didn’t even occur to me that he wouldn’t share it).

  Excellent.

  Okay, not much else to say. Glad to read you’re getting on with things and you’re liking doing that. Looking forward to getting the full scoop, baby. Feels like time has flown at the same time it feels like it’s dragging. There’s a lot I’d love to know that’s going on with you and can’t wait to hear it.

  Now, I should go. We make Benies in two days but only if I get my ass to bed so I can climb on that damn horse tomorrow and hold on. Achilles doesn’t fuck around with taking in the countryside. At least my ass is used to sitting that horse and doesn’t hurt so goddamn much (along with the rest of my body) at the end of the day. I’ll miss a lot from this world when I leave it, but I sure as fuck will be happy to see a car.

  I grinned at the letter and read Noc’s last.

  So I’ll end it here. Still miss you. It’ll be good to see you again, Frannie.

  Take care of yourself, your family and Josette. Say hey to them all for me.

  You, me and a slice of pizza, babe.

  Soon.

  Lotsa love,

  -Noc-

  Him and me and a slice of pizza.

  Soon.

  Very soon. Brikitta had grown quite heavy with child (even if she was such stylishly, her pregnancy wardrobe was stunning, if I did say so myself).

  The wait for my new niece (I hoped) or nephew (I would not be disappointed) I felt was close to over.

  Yes.

  Soon.

  Noc.

  Me.

  And pizza.

  * * * * *

  One Month Later

  The midwife at the other end, as Brikitta sweated and grunted and moaned and gritted her teeth audibly in a highly unladylike manner, I had the dubious (at that point) honor, at Brikitta’s request, of attending the birth and holding her hand through it.

  It was a hand I’d feared she’d break for it seemed she was tiring greatly but her strength had not been affected in the slightest.

  And it was at that juncture I feared she was tiring greatly for the midwife kept summoning her to push, her entreaties seeming more and more urgent, and my sister-in-law was drenched with sweat, her hair, her shift, the bedclothes, and her face had gone from red and pained to drained of color and the pain had drifted from her eyes, a vagueness setting in.

  “She mustn’t lose consciousness,” Hilde, Brikitta’s sister, who’d arrived two weeks ago to be present at this very moment, hissed.

  I looked across the bed to her, a woman assuming the same position as I, on her feet, bent double, holding her sister’s hand. Her expression had been joyful and encouraging these last hours, now it appeared anxious and borderline panicked.

  I then looked to Brikitta and saw not only her eyes had gone vague, her head was lolling on her shoulders.

  “She must push,” the midwife pressed and the urgency was gone.

  Fear was threading her tone.

  And that fear threaded through my veins.

  “The baby’s just about to crown, I can feel it,” the midwife went on. “She needs one, hearty push. If I can get hold of him…”

  “Her,” I snapped, not for myself (solely).

  My sister-in-law wanted a girl.

  My brother didn’t care, but Brikitta had confided in me she longed for a baby girl that she could dress and Kristian could dote over and Timofei could love and protect.

  I had no idea if the child was a girl. I was not a seer (I’d tried, I’d failed), as Valentine was not.

  But I had hope.

  “Whatever it is,” the midwife snapped back, “make her push. If we lose her now, we could lose them both now.”

  “That is not happening,” I shared haughtily, watched her open her mouth to speak but I turned my head from hers, tightened my hand well beyond the strength Brikitta had been using, feeling her bones and flesh crunch in my grip, and I bent over my sister. “Awake!” I commanded.

  Her eyes fluttered and her head again drooped.

  I yanked her hand hard so her back left the bed, Hilde cried, “Franka!” but Brikitta focused on me.

  “Look at me and push,” I ordered.

  “I’m so tired, Franka,” she whispered.

  “I’m quite certain you were tired of me being an unceasing bitch for five years but you never let me beat you,” I retorted.

  She blinked at me.

  “Push,” I charged.

  “I don’t…have much…more…”

  I yanked her again, heard Hilde’s surprised cry, but my maneuver had the desired results. The fading Brikitta focused again.

  I put my face square in hers.

  “Push, sister. I’ll not have you leaving us now. Not now. Not ever. Today, you bring my brother more joy. You bring it for yourself. And you bring it for me, and I get what I bloody well want. So you’re giving me a bloody niece. Now…push.”

  “You…are very… mercenary,” Brikitta forced out.

  “I’m a Drakkar,” I retorted. “Now, I’d be happy to have a conversation with you, sister. But before that, if you�
�d be so kind—”

  I didn’t finish as, before I could, her hand crushed mine, she bared her teeth as she gritted them, the blood rushed to her face and she bent forward, groaning.

  “I see the head!” the midwife cried.

  Thank the gods!

  I looked that way and saw the same, covered in Kristian’s dark hair.

  I again turned to Brikitta. “She’s got Kristian’s hair.” I watched her eyes flash. “Keep going, my beautiful girl.”

  She nodded and kept pushing.

  Back and forth I looked as more of the baby came through, Hilde’s encouragement mingled with my own, and finally on a tortured cry that I was sure, if my brother heard it (and the last time I checked, he was pacing the hall outside this very bed chamber door so he would), would send him into a deathly fright, the rest of the baby came out.

  “It’s a boy!” the midwife whispered excitedly.

  Brikitta slumped against the pillows.

  I drew in a long breath, let it out and sat down on the bed, still holding her hand as Hilde let the other one go to dash around with bathing cloths and blankets, clucking and cooing, and murmuring, “How beautiful, so beautiful.”

  Through this, Brikitta stared at what was happening at the end of the bed, an exhausted smile shading her lips, a look of deep contentment eclipsing the fatigue that shadowed her eyes.

  It took time, but eventually feeling my gaze, she gave me hers.

  When she did, I felt my eyes get moist.

  I sniffed and decreed, “A boy. It seems you’ll have to do this again.”

  Her eyes grew wide then her exhausted laughter filled the room.

  I smiled before I leaned forward, kissed her forehead, let her go, got up and walked out of the room in order to tell my brother he had a new son.

  * * * * *