Wildest Dreams

Chapter Eighteen

Bitter Gales

“Hurry Esther, The Drakkar has been waiting in the bedroom for twenty minutes,” Bess hissed urgently at Esther, who was twisting, curling and pinning up my hair. “I just walked through and there’s no mistaking he’s getting impatient.”

Ho boy. That probably wasn’t good.

“How much time do you need, Esther?” I asked.

“Ten to do your hair and ten to get you dressed,” Esther answered.

“Can we cut that in half?” I requested thinking of a Frey who was not hiding his impatience which could mean bad things.

“We’ll do our best,” Jocelyn decided. “Here, lift your foot. We’ll put your shoes and jewelry on and then, when Esther’s done, we can just add the dress.”

I nodded to Jocelyn and lifted my foot as she kneeled on the floor in front me and I said to Bess, “Tell him ten more minutes.”

She looked like she wanted to tell Frey he had to wait ten more minutes like she wanted her fingernails to be pulled out at the roots.

So I said gently, “Tell him I said that, honey.”

She nodded and took off and Jocelyn shoved on the other shoe while Alyssa came forward with my necklace.

It was crazy and at first I thought way over the top but honestly, being a princess, you totally needed four maidservants.

“I can’t wait to see The Drakkar’s expression when he gets a look at you,” Alyssa breathed as she carefully dodged Esther and put on my necklace.

“Me either,” Esther muttered.

“When he sees you, I hope he actually takes you to the Gales and not back to bed, like he did when he saw your underwear,” Jocelyn remarked, moving away to get my earrings, “it would be a pity we spent all that time teaching you and you didn’t get to dance.”

This would be true. The dances were fun. Though dancing with Frey was a lot more fun.

Bess came hustling in the room, eyes wide, expression slightly pale.

“He says we’ve got five minutes,” she announced.

I started softly giggling because I reckoned this was Frey being generous. He didn’t strike me as a man who liked to wait.

A few minutes later, when I’d been perfumed, my gloves smoothed on and the final touches of jewelry added, I heard Esther announce, “I’m done,” and felt her hands move away from me.

“I’ll get the dress,” Bess declared and hustled to the shimmering bolt of blood red satin scattered with jet beads that was resting over the lounge.

“Get yourself up, my princess,” Alyssa ordered and I got up and walked to the mirror.

In short order, they had my ensemble complete and it was so awesome, even if Frey was waiting, I took a moment to examine myself in the mirror and take it all in as Bess did some final spritzing with perfume behind my ears and at my cleavage (yes, royalty didn’t even spritz).

The girls had told me that any member of the aristocracy would be wearing the colors of their House. And it was Mother’s idea that I would not wear the deep red color of the House of Wilde the gold that denoted the crown of Lunwyn or my own color (as Winter Princess) of ice blue.

Instead, I would wear the color of the House of Drakkar, blood red.

And that I was, a blood red satin gown that hugged my body tight from ample cleavage to hips then flowed to my feet with a small train at the back. It was liberally and artistically decorated with hundreds of thousands of polished jet beads, heavy around the bodice but lightening as it skimmed my body and becoming only a sprinkle at the hem.

The gown didn’t have long sleeves but was off the shoulder with short, thin straps that made the bodice a sweep across my exposed cleavage and shoulders.

I had on long, black silk gloves that went up high on my triceps and, over the gloves at each wrist, was a tangle of strand after strand of jet beads. At my neck was a choker of more strands of beads, the same dangling from my ears. My makeup was done in deep colors, charcoal grays and blacks at the eyes and raspberry at the lips and cheeks. And my hair was swept up elegantly but softly in curls and twists.

But the best of all was the headpiece.

Mother had told me when a Drakkar queen sat the throne, she didn’t wear a crown. She wore somewhat what I was wearing.

A headpiece made of woven and dangling jet beads that covered my forehead from hairline to nearly eyebrow with dips of it coming to the bridge of my nose and down my temples. This disappeared into my hair at the sides but was woven through the curls and twists.

It… was… awesome.

The whole thing was.

Though, it had to be said, the dress was super tight and weighed a ton and that headpiece thing, albeit cool-as-shit, was kind of annoying. However, I figured I’d get used to it and hopefully be having so much fun, I wouldn’t even notice it.

“Oh, Finnie, you look beautiful,” Bess breathed and I smiled because, silently, I agreed.

Usually, I could take my looks or leave them. Mom had taught me how to play to my strengths, thick hair, unusual eyes, burgeoning curves (before she left me, they’d burgeoned since) and I did it without thought.

Truthfully, I would never have guessed that red would look good on me but with the dark makeup and the jet beads, my hair seemed shiny white and the blue of my eyes was stark.

So now I thought I looked fabulous.

I took another moment before joining Frey to embrace each of my girls and say quick, heartfelt words of thanks before I rushed (trying not to look like I was rushing) out of the dressing room and into the bedroom while taking in a soft breath. I was looking forward to Frey’s reaction because it was safe to say my husband thought I was beautiful (since he’d told me this more than once) and I couldn’t wait to see what he thought of this.

I got three feet into the room when I stopped. Vaguely, I noticed his eyes come to me and he did what he often did when he first saw me, his body arrested and his eyes locked on me.

But I was too busy taking him in to note his reaction.

Holy moly.

I’d never seen him in anything but his so dark brown it was nearly black clothing.

But now he wore all black. Black breeches, polished black boots and a black shirt with puffy sleeves and a high collar that covered his neck nearly to his earlobes, tied with a cravat. This old-fashioned getup might look ridiculous on any other man but absolutely did not on him. He had a shined, black leather strap on a slant across his chest to which was attached not to a rough hide but instead a length of high-quality black wool that hung at a slant on the back and, where it ended at the backs of his calves, there was a short edge of glossy black fur. His thick, dark hair had been swept back, his strong jaw was shaved and he looked so beyond handsome, for a second, I couldn’t breathe.

When I could, I whispered, “Hi,” and he blinked.

Then he moved to me, leaned in, grabbed my hand, tucked it in his elbow and muttered, “We’re late, we mustn’t delay.”

I felt the air in the room change and could almost swear I heard the whoosh of five balloons of deflated excitement whizzing around the room like they’d just been struck by a pin.

“Right,” I whispered as Frey led me swiftly to the door and then I turned my head and aimed a smile at my girls. “Thanks ladies, see you in the morning before we go.”

“Right, Finnie, see you,” Alyssa called, looking almost, but not quite, as disappointed as I felt.

“Have fun,” Esther called.

“I will,” I assured her.

Jocelyn and Bess both waved, Jocelyn’s disappointed eyes on me, Bess’s on Frey.

Then out the door we went and Frey moved us quickly down the hall toward the stairs.

We were headed to the third floor.

The Palace was enormous, the first floor filled with official function rooms in one wing such as drawing rooms, a study, a formal dining room, a formal morning room and the like and in the other wing, places where family gathered such as a less formal dining room, a billiards room, a library and a conservatory. The first floor also had the kitchens and laundry. The second floor was filled with living space for family and guests, bedrooms, dressing rooms, personal sitting rooms, sewing rooms and such. The fourth floor held the servants’ quarters.

But the third floor was where the function rooms were and there were only three. The middle where the stairs led was a huge hall, down the center of which were five, large, gleaming dark wood tables which, for the party, would hold massive displays of blooms from the Palace’s greenhouses (there were four gargantuan greenhouses where the Palace gardeners grew everything from flowers and plants to adorn the house, to vegetables and fruits forced to grow out of season in order to feed its occupants and guests – they even had apple, pear, plum and peach trees in one, lime, lemon, grapefruit and orange in another and tangles of blackberry and raspberry vines in yet another).

Off the function hall to one side was a ballroom that was a wide open space lined with chairs intermixed with small tables with a rise for an orchestra at one end. Off the hall to the other side was a long open gallery that had walls covered with portraits of past kings and queens of Lunwyn but mostly Winter Princes or Princesses, in other words, those who inhabited the Palace prior to assuming the throne, and their wives or husbands and children.

This was where we were heading now and I saw two liveried footmen wearing deep red sweaters, dark brown leather shorts, high boots, brown mantles at a slant across their backs and brown leather gloves standing at the landing from the second to third floor guiding people up and down and cutting off access to the living quarters.

As I saw the brilliant colored gowns and curious faces peeking around the footmen toward Frey and myself, I looked away and up at my husband to see his jaw was hard.

Then I stared at his jaw, realizing something had pissed him off.

Shit. He was angry about the wait.

Shit! I didn’t want to go to the Gales with a pissed off Frey. I didn’t want to go anywhere with a pissed off Frey.

So before we made it to the footmen, I pulled back slightly on his elbow and slowed my step. He looked down at me, brows drawn and I saw on Frey’s scale of one to ten of how angry he could be, he was resting, my guess, at around a two.

This was good.

“Can I have a second?” I asked softly, he stopped us, looked to the stairs then back at me before he turned toward me.

“Finnie, the Gales started nearly two hours ago,” he reminded me.

“I know but…” I moved closer to him and tipped my head back further, “I just wanted to apologize before we got there for being late and making you wait and –”

I stopped talking when his hand lifted and curled around my neck and his expression instantly changed to show that my apology made him totally drop off the angry scale.

Phew. This was also good.

Then he stated, “Wee one, it was me who made us late, why are you apologizing?”

“You seem angry,” I told him.

“I’m not angry about waiting,” he told me.

“Are you angry at all?” I asked.

“No,” Frey answered, I peered closer at him and saw this was true.

Still, I could have sworn I saw it earlier.

Therefore, I informed him, “You looked angry a second ago.”

“I wasn’t angry,” he replied.

Well, he was something and, by the by, he hadn’t commented on my fabulous dress and that was not Frey. Three days ago, when I’d walked up to him talking with Thad and Oleg while wearing a silvery white wool gown that was sweet, but wasn’t close to my best, he’d told me right in front of his men that I looked lovely then he’d swiftly finished his talk with the guys, took me to our rooms and took it off me.

Therefore, I stated, “You were something.”

He sighed then said, “Finnie, we must –”

My eyes narrowed on his, which I could see, just barely, but I could see were hiding something and I leaned closer, cutting him off as it hit me. “You’re hiding something.”

“Finnie –”

“What?”

“Fin –”

I put a hand on his chest, got up on the toes of my red satin, jet-beaded-pointed-toed slippers and asked, “What’s upset you, Frey?”

He kept hold of my eyes. Then he dipped his face closer to me.

Then he said, “You wear the colors of Drakkar.”

I blinked. Then I asked, “What?”

He didn’t repeat himself. Instead he replied, “I was wrong when I told you I didn’t have a favorite color. My favorite colors are your colors.” I blinked as my heart skipped a beat and Frey continued, “I prefer you in your whites, your silvers, your grays and definitely your blues.” I stared, thinking he really paid attention at the same time my belly got really warm at his words then he kept talking. “What I do not like to see you in is the red of Drakkar.”

My belly grew instantly cold, I rolled back to the soles of my feet, surprised and, I had to admit, dejected.

“I wore this for you,” I whispered. “Mother said –”

His hand at my neck squeezed lightly and he whispered back, “I know, wee one and I appreciate the gesture. But that does not change the fact that I dislike you in the color of my House.”

Oh God.

Of course not. Why was I so stupid? I knew he had nothing to do with his House. I should never have listened to Mother.

I turned my eyes away and muttered, “Hells bells, I screwed up.”

“Finnie, look at me, love,” he called with another squeeze of his hand and my eyes went to his. “I do not associate with my House.”

I nodded and admitted, “I know, I heard. That’s how I screwed up.” I leaned further into him. “I’m so sorry, Frey.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Your gesture is touching and your mother knows what she’s doing. This does not mean I like it.”

I blinked and asked, “My mother knows what she’s doing?”

He nodded and then imparted information on me that made my lungs seize.

“There will be members of my House up there. My parents, assuredly. My cousin Franka, considering the level and nature of her curiosity, almost definitely. Perhaps even my brothers though I have not heard word they’re attending.”

The news of his cousin was alarming, the news of his brothers also, but I was frozen at news of his parents.

“Your parents are upstairs?” I breathed.

“Undoubtedly,” he confirmed.

“Your parents are upstairs,” I repeated on a breath.

“Finnie –”

I pulled away from his hand at my neck, grabbed it and tugged him five feet back down the hall. Then I stood with my back to the landing and hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

God. His parents. I would soon be meeting Frey’s parents!

God!

I looked freaking great but I wasn’t ready for this.

“Finnie –”

I interrupted him. “You can’t… you can’t just… just… spring this on a girl five minutes before she meets your parents!”

His hands, both of them this time, curled around my neck and he bent so his face was close when he said gently, “Wee one, calm down.”

“Calm is not an option, Frey,” I told him, panic clear in my voice. “Your parents are upstairs!”

“They are,” he confirmed again.

“And your cousin!” I went on.

“Finnie, my love –”

“And, possibly, your brothers!” Now I was working myself up into a state.

“Fin –”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I semi-shrieked, the words coming out slightly shrill, slightly loud and definitely panicked therefore Frey let me go but grabbed my hand and pulled me back down the hall another five feet. Then he stopped and resumed our positions, this time turning me so his back to the stairwell.

“I didn’t tell you, my wee Finnie, for this exact reason. I knew you’d react this way. You care, you want to make a good impression, you twist yourself into knots to make your father proud of you, you sit with your mother while she embroiders when I know you’d rather be anywhere but there, doing something, meeting people, gaming, shopping, eating, chatting. Now, you’re anxious and I’d rather you be anxious for the second it takes you to control your emotions and move forward being charming the moment you meet them then tell you days ago so you could work yourself up and spend your days in this state.”

I glared at him as it hit me this was kind of nice and definitely thoughtful.

“You know, it’s annoying when you’re thoughtful and I’m geared up to be pissed at you,” I snapped, the unsettled look went out of Frey’s eyes and he grinned.

Then he bent closer and touched his lips to my nose and moved back.

That was also thoughtful because it was soothing and sweet.

Damn the man.

Then he said, “Since you now know, I’ll brief you further.”

“That’d be nice, Frey,” I said on a sigh, trying to keep up the glare and failing.

He grinned again, totally seeing I was failing at my endeavors to remain pissed and his hands dropped from my neck to rest at my waist.

Then his face got serious and I braced.

“If you know I have nothing to do with my House then you likely know I do not care for my parents. Therefore, I do not care what they think of you. I know how I think of you and their thoughts matter nothing to me.”

Well, this was good.

“Okay,” I replied.

His fingers gave me a squeeze and he went on. “But the House of Drakkar holds wealth and wealth means power. Their influence has dwindled over the years but money can buy nearly anything. Your mother arranging that you wear their colors is a statement that says that, upon our marriage, it was not simply me accepted into the House of Wilde, but you also entered the House of Drakkar. She is saying you are one of them. She is attempting to make that point clear.”

I felt my brows knit and I asked, “Why would she do that?”

“Because she wishes to build an alliance. Power is power no matter who wields it. The members of the House of Drakkar spend a great deal of time and effort fighting amongst themselves but the way they are, that does not mean they do not have plenty of time to devote to engaging in hostility to others. You wearing the colors of my House is not only an homage to my House, it is also publicly stating to all Houses that you are now a Drakkar. It is a clever ploy. She is reminding them that Drakkars have a member of their House, no matter how distant he is with his brethren, who will eventually be father to the next king of Lunwyn. With you wearing their colors, your mother is also reminding them that his bride, a Wilde and now a Drakkar, will be the mother of our future king and should be treated with the respect she deserves for all those reasons.”

I stared up at him in mild surprise and asked, “They wouldn’t treat me with respect?”

“My wee one,” Frey said gently, “with my family, there is no telling what they will do.”

Hmm.

Well, the good news was, Mother wasn’t stupid, though I’d already pretty much sussed that.

“As clever as it was of your mother and as fetching as that dress is on you, I still don’t like you wearing Drakkar red,” he muttered, his eyes having moved down to my middle.

“Frey, honey,” I called and his gaze moved back to mine, “I’m sorry it bothers you so I suggest you don’t think of me wearing this color and instead,” I leaned into him, smiled and whispered, “think of taking it off later.”

Frey’s arms wrapped around my back and he bent his neck deep to reply low through his own smile, “This is an excellent idea.”

I pressed into him; he got my hint and touched his mouth to mine. Though, clearly he didn’t read the hint correctly because it was only a touch and not more.

When he lifted his head, he sighed and murmured, “Let us face the Gales.”

“Okay,” I murmured back, he smiled again, let me go, grabbed my hand and led me back to the staircase.

We moved up the stairs and as we did I caught eyes and gave smiles and when Frey caught eyes, he gave chin lifts.

People had been arriving for the Gales for days and, normally, Sjofn would be amongst them as a number of them were guests at the Palace. For the past three days, Mother and Father had both been attending large breakfasts, luncheons and dinners with Father taking meetings in between.

But to protect me, Frey had made the decision I would not be involved in these and, further, stringently kept separate from the guests primarily because most of the people I was supposed to know and I didn’t. He didn’t want to be away from my side when these things happened and he had no intention of attending engagement after engagement. And since Father and Mother’s attention would be turned to hosting their guests, it was without a doubt I’d flub up, repeatedly. Therefore, guests were informed (not untruthfully) that Frey and I were otherwise engaged (the inference not lost on anyone, I was sure) and thus not participating in these events but that we would attend the Gales.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, having smiling and knowing glances coming my way from every direction as my husband and I made our way to the hall on the third floor. Especially since we were two hours late, something which spoke volumes but… whatever. It would have been worse having to pretend I knew people and fumbling through conversations with old friends and acquaintances that were nothing of the sort.

As we alighted the stairs, I saw I was not wrong about the tables in the hall. Huge, round vases stuffed full of spiked white gladiolas festooned the center of each table all of which were laid with silver trays covered in food. They did not have vol-au-vents, mini-quiches and meatballs on a stick. They had (amongst many other things) what looked like puff pastry stuffed with melted cheese, massive tiger prawns baked with slivers of prosciutto rolled around them, corners of thin toast covered thick in pâté and gherkins sliced lengthwise, crackers covered in what looked like cream cheese and caviar and hunks of meat and fish with small crystal glasses filled with tiny silver, two-pronged forks set beside them. And this didn’t even get into the trays of bite-size pastries and cakes on offer.

So, Atticus was right, the same foods but theirs were more posh.

Everything looked so delicious, seeing it, I was suddenly ravenous.

Frey, however, must have had a snack for he didn’t even pause at a table nor did he glance at one. He made a bee-line straight to Mother and Father.

Upon approach, I saw Father was wearing much what he wore to my wedding but without the sweater and instead a shirt in deep red with a cravat like Frey’s. Mother was wearing a long, deep red dress but the red of the material melted into gold at her hem. Her wrists, neck, fingers and ears were dripping with gold and rubies not to mention the ruby-crusted gold clips in the shapes of dragonflies holding up her elegant hairstyle.

Taking them in, tall, lean and regal, I noted not for the first time they both still had it and I knew without a doubt if my parents had lived to their age, they would too.

This felt nice.

When Frey and I arrived at them, cheek touches were exchanged and before I knew what she was about, Mother installed me firmly at her side, that was to say firmly and closely to her side. Frey took his place by Father.

At first, this surprised me that I was not standing with Frey. However, for the next hour, I would get it. This was because we were almost immediately descended upon by a wave of people. And as these people approached, chatted then moved on, Mother monopolized any conversation that involved me. If a question was directed to me, she answered it. If a comment was required of me, she prompted it. She interspersed names liberally while she spoke as well as deftly adding personal pieces of information or things such as, “Oh, Sjofn, you remember when…” And any time we had a lull in the action, she’d whisper in my ear, giving me tidbits about people coming or going so if I did speak, I wouldn’t open my mouth and insert my foot.

Seriously, she was good.

And seriously, it felt nice to know that she and Frey (and maybe Father) arranged this to take care of me.

And after awhile, I started having fun. A maid brought us flat-bowled, etched crystal glasses of cold, dry, refreshing, delicious champagne and others moved around us offering trays of food. I partook of both freely (avoiding unidentifiable meat, of course) and started to pay attention to the color of dresses or cravats and linking them with Houses. The clothing was opulent, the jewels even more so, hairstyles and makeup elaborate, men’s mantles were everything from leather to full on fur and the Gales were obviously a place to see, be seen and show right the hell off.

It was freaking awesome.

Mother, Father, Frey and I didn’t move for an hour and by this time I had two glasses of champagne, had stuffed myself with every piece of food I could get my mitts on and was feeling it was high time to dance when it happened.

And luckily I had a chance to prepare when Aurora’s fingers tensed into the inside of my elbow. I looked to her face then to where she was looking and saw a dark-haired woman wearing a phenomenal blood red gown on her voluptuous, immaculately cared for body, her eyes a familiar brown-green and at her side was a tall, dark-haired man who once was probably very handsome but who now had a serious gut and the skin of his face showed he either drank too much, smoked too much, didn’t eat the right foods or all three… in abundance.

Frey’s parents.

Shit.

“Eirik and Valeria Drakkar, Frey’s parents,” Aurora whispered quickly in my ear, confirming my guess. “You’ve met them several times in your life, including twice while you were betrothed to The Drakkar, the other times at the Bitter or Solar Gales. They attended your wedding but you did not converse with them prior to Drakkar taking you away.”

“Well!” Valeria Drakkar exclaimed upon arrival which was approximately a millisecond later, not hesitating a millisecond longer to grasp both my upper arms and pull me away from Aurora and to her to touch her cheek in turn to each of mine. Then she leaned away, pushing me back and took me in without removing her hold on me. “She wears the color of Drakkar! Excellent!”

“Move aside, move aside,” Eirik Drakkar shoved in and did the same, except (gross!) he kissed my neck on each side then shoved me back and took me in and the way he did made my stomach roil and my eyes slide to the side to see Frey had moved to stand facing the huddle rather than at my father’s side and not only was his jaw hard, his eyes were too and if that wasn’t enough, a muscle ticked in his cheek.

Ho boy.

It appeared that not only did Frey not care for his parents, he actively didn’t like them.

It also appeared, since neither Eirik nor Valeria had greeted him nor even looked at him, neither had an ounce of interest in their son.

“Look at my new daughter!” Eirik stated loudly, taking my attention back to him then he leaned into me and proved that firstly, he’d partaken much of the food and whatever he’d eaten had an abundance of onion, or, more likely, he’d eaten an abundance of something with onion, secondly, this was mixed with an alcohol smell that was not champagne and thirdly, this mingling of smells was vastly unappealing. “I must tell you, my lovely, lovely girl, I do not blame my son for dragging the likes of you through the Dwelling of the Gods and being away into the night. I cheered with the rest when I saw it for, if I was twenty years younger, I would do the same or, better yet, take you to the Vallee’s study and have you on his desk!”

Uh… did he just say that?

Major ick!

Not to mention, major rude.

Before I could say a word, not that I had a word to say to that, Frey spoke.

“I’ll thank you to unhand my bride.” His voice was low and unhappy but he didn’t wait for his father to comply. He moved in front of his mother, Atticus and Aurora and, with an arm around my waist, he pulled me firmly out of his father’s grasp.

Thank God.

“Ah, my Frey,” Valeria said softly, “always so prickly, especially when it came to his belongings.” She leaned into me and wagged a finger in my direction. “Never shared with his brothers, our Frey. Always so possessive.”

I will note at this point that she still hadn’t greeted her son.

“It’s repulsive, with your words, that you’d insinuate that I should share my wife with my father, Valeria,” Frey remarked, still in his low, unhappy voice.

“All in the family,” she replied, smiling a smile that not only didn’t reach her eyes but was cold as Christmas.

Uh… ick again.

Already, I did not like these people more than I suspected I wouldn’t like them knowing that Frey didn’t and the not insignificant fact that they’d never given him any presents.

Eirik, unfortunately, butted in, indicating he had a one track mind and it wasn’t a nice track. “My boy, in dragging her out of the Dwelling, you robbed me of every father-in-law’s right to his dance with his new daughter-in-law at the celebration which, I might add, includes a kiss at the end. This,” he leered at me, “I’ll be taking tonight at my earliest opportunity.”

Okay, it was safe to say I was not looking forward to that.

“You’ll not dance with my princess and you’ve already touched your mouth to her two more times than I find comfortable,” Frey stated, staring down his nose at a father.

I leaned into Frey, pleased beyond reason that he helped me dodge that bullet.

“Killjoy,” Eirik muttered then he focused again on me in order to comment. “I was surprised you weren’t with us today, Sjofn. In the past, you’ve more than enjoyed participating in the royal hunts.”

“Well –” I started but Mother got there before me.

“Sjofn and I had an important errand to run in town and she and Frey are travelling so she was busy preparing to take her leave on the morrow,” Aurora neatly entered the conversation to explain.

“Hmm,” Valeria murmured, her familiar but nowhere near as warm eyes on me, “rumor has it she’s lost her touch with her bow.” At these words, my body got tight, Frey’s got tight against me and I felt Aurora and Atticus get tense too. “I thought that might be it,” she finished, watching me so closely, kid you not, I started to squirm.

Then Eirik bizarrely and unbelievably coarsely put in, “It’s the talk of the Gales so everyone knows he’s been doing naught much else but thrusting between her legs for days, wife, and this undoubtedly means my son has been going at her for weeks. Drakkar seed, always powerful, stuffed full of it, it causes even our princess, a skilled huntress, to lose her touch with her bow.”

At these words, words which should not be spoken at an elegant ball, or, perhaps, ever, I gasped. And I knew my guess was accurate for Mother also gasped, Father, jaw clenched and eyes hard, moved forward but Frey had had enough.

I knew this when his hand shot up, fisted tightly in his father’s cravat and then he yanked his father toward him and up to his toes, bending his neck only slightly, he got nose to nose with him.

Then he growled, “Thus ends the family reunion.”

Then he let his now red-faced father loose with a rough push and Eirik stumbled back two steps, running into a young woman in a lovely kelly green gown before he righted himself.

But I had little opportunity to watch. Frey had his hand on my elbow and he was moving me away.

And he did so while muttering acerbically to his mother, “As ever, a unique pleasure.”

Then without a backward glance at his father but a tip of his head to Aurora and Atticus, he led me firmly to the ballroom then equally firmly off to the side where there was a small patch of free space. There he stopped us, drew me close and looked down at me.

I looked up at him and saw on the scale of how angry Frey could be he looked to be at around twelve.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Shaken by what had just happened, I replied honestly if not helpfully, “Your Dad’s kind of a dick.”

“And a ‘dick’ would be?” Frey queried tersely.

“An asshole. A fuckwad. A douchebag. A screaming jerk,” I explained and Frey scowled a ferocious scowl I could take because it wasn’t directed at me.

Then he stated, “You do know I don’t know what any of those are either except, possibly, the first.”

“None of them are good,” I clarified then stressed, “at all.”

Frey kept scowling at me and that was when I tardily realized I should do something to make him feel better instead of what I was doing, fueling the fire. So I moved in close and circled his middle with my arms. I leaned back as his arms curved around me and looked up at him.

“That said, I’m fine,” I whispered.

I saw his anger ratchet down to about a five before he whispered back, “Good.”

“Though,” I said, cautiously sharing, “your Mom kind of scares me.”

Frey’s eyes didn’t leave mine when he replied, “She should. Where your mother acts first for her husband, then her family then her realm, my mother acts first for herself. Then she acts on every opportunity presented to behave with malice or cruelty. Next, if it serves her purpose, for the House of Drakkar. But never does she act for the good of her sons, her husband or Lunwyn.”

Yep, I didn’t like either of them and especially not Valeria Drakkar.

“Malice and cruelty?” I prompted, still treading cautiously.

He sighed, looked over my head then looked back down at me.

“Malice and cruelty,” he affirmed.

I got up on my toes, Frey dipped closer and when he did, I whispered, “She knows about my archery practice.”

He nodded. “This is not a surprise. She has spies and this is what she wants you to know. This, my wee Finnie, is what she does. It’s doubtful she’s generous enough with any of them to pay for anything she could use, for she’s as stingy as she is heartless, unless, of course, it’s coin used for another gown or necklace for herself. However, she wanted you to know this in hopes you’d worry about the information she held, planting it in your mind so it could fester as you wondered at her intent and the extent of her knowledge.”

Wow.

Wow.

I hated this, like, a lot. So much, it felt like acid at the back of my throat.

And I didn’t hate it for me. I hated it for Frey.

And I hated it so much I couldn’t stop myself from pressing closer, lifting a hand to wrap around the side of his neck and asking softly, “Where on earth did you come from, baby?”

Frey’s brows drew together and he asked softly back, “Pardon?”

My thumb stroked his jaw before I whispered, “My handsome husband is gentle, thoughtful and kind. He laughs and smiles easily and he makes me feel safe. I was with your folks for about five minutes and they were so far from any of that, it is not funny. So,” I squeezed his neck, “where did you come from?”

I belatedly noticed that my gentle, thoughtful, kind husband was staring down at me with that fiery look in his eyes, the same look he had after I gave him his spun glass dragon. And looking at it, his fire melted my heart, a heart that was already far from frozen.

Before I could say anything, not that I hadn’t already said too much, his arms about me tightened and his face dipped super close to mine when he said quietly, “I do not know, my wee Finnie, where I came from but I’m beginning to know why I’m here.”

And that was when stupid, stupid, stupidly, I asked, “And why are you here, honey?”

“I don’t need to say aloud what I know you also are beginning to understand, wee one,” he answered and I pressed my lips together because he was not wrong and I was still not going there. His eyes held mine as his mouth murmured, “She waits for me at windows and buys me dragons. There are reasons we walk this earth, I’m coming to realize mine.”

“Frey,” I whispered and said no more. I couldn’t. I was too moved and I felt strangely like I was standing in quicksand, sinking fast.

The problem was, I had no will whatsoever to find a vine and pull myself out.

His head dipped further and he pressed his lips hard to mine.

Then he broke his sweet touch and moved back an inch to say, “My grandmother.”

My head tipped to the side. “Your grandmother?”

“If there is anything gentle and kind in me, my love, she put it there. My father’s mother had a light shining from her soul.” His lips tipped up and he continued, “Because of that, you remind me in some ways of her. But she lived in a den of vipers and knew how to take care of herself, moving cautiously ahead while keeping an eye to her back lest someone be preparing to bury a dagger in it. Even so, with those she cared about, she displayed great humor, generosity and thoughtfulness.”

I studied him and it hit me he’d said she’d died when he was thirteen.

Therefore I asked, “So, when she passed, is that why you left your family and never went back?”

His lips tipped up further to a grin. “Someone has been talking,” he guessed.

I grinned back and relaxed deeper into him, my hand sliding down to rest on his chest. “Four someones, to be precise, and they had one avid listener.”

He chuckled then confirmed, “Yes, wee one, when she died, living amongst them became too much to bear. So I left and never went back.”

“What was her name?” I asked.

“Eugenie,” he answered.

“I wish I’d known her,” I whispered.

“As do I,” Frey concurred.

I kept going. “I’m sorry your family sucks, baby.”

He chuckled again but concurred with that too. “I am as well, my wee Finnie.”

I stared up at a magnificent man who was magnificent against some pretty big odds.

And as I did, I knew I had two choices, struggle against the quicksand only to have it slurp me up to bury me straight to the throat or move the fuck on and have some fun, fun which would undoubtedly suck me deeper anyway but, again, I wasn’t all fired up to save myself from going down.

I picked door number two.

And to do it, I tilted my head to the side and smiled brightly at my husband before I asked, “Wanna dance?”

His eyes roamed my face before they locked on my mouth. Still looking there, he answered, “Absolutely.”

Then he bent and kissed my nose yet again before he let me go and led me to the dance floor.

He did this holding my hand.

I let him do it and I did it smiling.

* * * * *

Nearly every eye in the room watched The Drakkar lead his princess to the dance.

As they had been watching The Drakkar and his Winter Princess in their intimate, cozy huddle from the moment they entered the ballroom.

And as many had watched from horses, windows or fire drums as that afternoon, the Winter Princess burst forth from her Palace to meet her imposing husband with a bright smile and that imposing husband had smiled back then gave his new wife a gentle touch, soft words and, finally, a light kiss.

And as The Drakkar whirled, twirled and lifted his new bride through the next four dances, all the while he smiled warmly at her or laughed out loud at something she said or at an unusual inexpert stumble in her step (which always made her laugh out loud too, through the smiles she was returning to her husband, of course), they kept watching.

* * * * *

“Please, my princess, the next dance,” the young man begged but I smiled and shook my head, trying to recall the name he gave me but unable to do so since so many were swimming in my head.

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.