Wildest Dreams

Chapter Twenty

The Finnie

The riders on their mounts moved through the frozen forest swiftly and throughout the journey they did not relent in their pace for the sake of their steeds.

Before we left, Frey had suggested I try to sleep but we were going at a fast canter and the jarring pace alone would have kept me awake.

But it was the events of that night that actually kept me awake.

Unlike our last, during this journey, Frey did not talk. He did not share tidbits of information. He simply held me close and leaned into me as Tyr took us through the moonlit forest.

Leaving me to my thoughts.

And I took his silence as indication he wished to be left to his.

I was told that Sudvic was a six hour sleigh ride if the conditions were right and, considering the not-so-good company of my thoughts, I was glad that it didn’t take us that long. I had no idea how long it actually took but we were not on a road; we were off track, in the forest proper and likely taking a more direct route.

The entire time we rode, my mind was awash with images and memories of that night, the last two weeks and everyone in the Palace and at the Gales that I’d come into contact with. None of them seemed like assassins to me but I wouldn’t know and assassins, I would guess, didn’t have identifying characteristics. Or, at least, not good ones.

My parents had come to visit me prior to Frey and I leaving and I guessed this meant Frey trusted them enough to allow it. As they looked like my real parents and I’d grown to know them, not to mention the fact that both were openly concerned for me (yes, even Mother), I couldn’t believe they would have anything to do with a plot to murder me. And in the end, I had no choice but to act exactly what I was, and that was terrified, so I welcomed their reassuring presence.

Then we were away in the cold dead of the night, Frey and I and my guard and I had nothing but the moonlight, the snow, the trees and my thoughts to occupy me for hours.

And therefore, I was beside myself with relief when we suddenly came out of the never ending forest.

Then, as what lay before me shoved out the dark thoughts and registered in my brain, I sucked in breath.

We had emerged on a high rise and spread before us was a city and not a small one for its sprawl stretched far.

But this wasn’t what made me pull in breath.

The twinkling lights of the city covered the valley and to the left blinked partially up a rise that was not a mountain in comparison to those around Fyngaard, but it was a very tall hill.

However, to the right there was a bay, its dark, night water so calm it was glassy and its surface was dotted with huge, awe-inspiring three and four-mast galleons that were at anchor. More still were docked at the wharf. Considering the hour, they were lit with few lanterns (though those closer to the wharf had more illuminated) and all these cast long reflections across the bay.

It was freaking spectacular.

Although they’d run for hours, it was as if the horses sensed their journey was coming to an end, they wanted it to be done and their pace picked up as the riders in our party forged across the snow toward a well-trod road, then down the road to the valley and into the city.

When we hit it, glancing around and taking it in, I saw immediately that Sudvic couldn’t be any more different from Fyngaard.

The streets were cobbled, not paths of snow packed trails. The snow had been cleared and piled high into lots between the buildings that seemed to be there for that sole purpose. And the sound of the horses’ hooves pounding against the stone, something I’d never heard in real life, was way cool.

The buildings weren’t quaint and homey. Even so, they were cool in an olde worlde, higgledy-piggledy way. They were narrow and tall, one built right against the next with the roads winding through them showing there was no city planning whatsoever. Some of the buildings were four stories tall, others two or three. Some had peaked roofs, others slanted or dormered. All had square-paned windows and there were a number of windows I saw shuttered against the night chill. It was clear this city was highly populated, not simply from the dense pack of the buildings but also since it was the wee hours of the morning and there were people out bustling along the wood-plank, snow-cleared sidewalks or standing at the fire drums that were lit on street corners.

Another difference was that they didn’t have torches but tall black streetlamps that looked to be fueled. Their lights shone through glass-sided boxes that hung on hooks that alternately curved over the streets or sidewalks, cutting through the night and casting illumination on both.

I also noted Sudvic did not appear refined and cosmopolitan. There were a vast number of businesses and shops but no cafés with sidewalk seating, no fancy restaurants and from what I could see in shop windows, the wares were utilitarian, not elegant, expensive or sophisticated. There were definitely no fur shops here or spun glass. There were also shingles suspended above doors advertising solicitors, accountants, merchants and even insurance brokers.

And further, the few women I saw were dressed differently. They did not have the smooth, flowing gowns of wool or long cloaks I saw in Fyngaard and Houllebec. They had full skirts with a mass of petticoats and shorter cloaks that came down only to their waists.

Looking around, it seemed we’d ridden three or four hours from Fyngaard and gone to a whole other world.

Our party took a right and rode on. When we did I could see the bay coming toward us and I forgot all about nearly being poisoned and people all around me wanting me dead and all I could think was that I couldn’t wait to get there.

But once we arrived, I knew I could have waited a year and it would have been worth it.

When we hit the end of the street, Frey and his men veered their horses left and we were there, on the wharf, the galleons rising high into the sky to our right, the dock lined by buildings on the left.

There were huge wooden posts ascending from the water with thick ropes twined around fastening the ships to the dock or thinner ropes securing smaller vessels to the posts or to hooks screwed into the wood of the quay. All along the wharf there were piles and stacks of wooden barrels and crates, beds of tangled nets, messes of fish traps and enormous coils of bulky rope.

And the dock was waking up. Or, perhaps, it never went to sleep. Men were at work lugging, pulling, pushing, rolling, lifting and shouting.

And to the left, there were a great many pubs, all brightly lit, all clearly never closed, and lastly, obviously very popular. Outside, there were men standing around carrying or glugging from horns or pewter tankards and smoking fat cigars (not the thin ones of Fyngaard). They were also talking to, making out with or openly fondling women with great masses of hair, heavy hands at makeup and décolletage that rivaled Franka’s but this spilling out of flimsy (sometimes not-so-clean) tops that were gathered (or not, as the case may be) at the neckline with drawstrings, their breasts made more prominent by wide belts cinched tight that covered their midriffs and laced up the center. Their full skirts didn’t sweep the ground but the hem fell several inches above their ankle. And they were apparently immune to the cold or drunk off their asses because none of them were wearing cloaks (though some wore fingerless gloves).

Doxies. They had to be.

Awesome!

The sounds of men at work, the cry of gulls, the creak of the ships and the smell of salt and fish filled the air. It was fabulous, every inch of it. And as we swiftly rode through, I saw avid eyes turn our direction but I didn’t really notice. I was busy trying to take it all in.

Then Frey pulled back on Tyr’s reins, tugged him to the right, Tyr veered that direction and we stopped facing a ship at the dock.

Frey straightened and I came up with him, looking left then right then up, up and up.

It was by far the biggest ship I’d seen and absolutely, completely, definitely the coolest.

This was all I was able to process as I heard running feet and Frey dismounted, instantly reaching up to pull me down.

I had my feet beneath me and I saw a young man, perhaps twelve or thirteen who had hold of Tyr’s reins. He was blond, very slight and had on breeches, ankle boots, thick wool socks and a thick brown sweater. His head was tipped back, eyes aimed at Frey.

“Take care of Tyr and then attend your lady in my cabin,” Frey ordered shortly while taking my hand and then we were on the move.

We headed straight toward a steep gangplank that had slats nailed across as footholds and a rough rope railing that connected to the ship at the top and a wood pole with an iron hoop at the bottom. I’d faced scarier ascents but not in a long dress and heavy fur cloak. Before I could get my wits about me and concentrate on climbing that gangway without toppling over into the water, Frey used his hand to maneuver me in front of him then, with one hand in the small of my back, the other steadying me at my waist, he pushed me up it. I trailed my gloved hand along the rope as Frey’s big bulk right behind me propelled me straight up, through some short railings, two steps down and then I was on his ship.

On his ship!

Woo hoo!

I had approximately one point seven five seconds to look around and see that he wasn’t lying. There were men everywhere, lots of them, all of them busy.

I was seeing he was correct about my girls being there. They might like a smorgasbord and even though every man looked fit to full on brawny and not one was less than at the very least cute, even my girls who, if their stories were true enjoyed their dalliances tremendously, might find this a bit much.

I did lock eyes (very briefly) with a man that had a shock of white hair that was fashioned in an experimental hairstyle that he’d not been attending and it had gone awry. He also had a full, thick white beard, deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes, craggy wrinkles everywhere else, an extremely tanned face and he was wearing a sweater, leather shorts and tall boots that all had seen better days and those days were about two decades ago. He was this world’s version of a salty sea dog, no doubt about it and he was squinting at me with an expression that said he wanted to grab hold of me and throw me overboard.

He didn’t get this chance.

Frey took my hand and led me up a narrow gangway at the side of the ship and I was watching where my feet were hitting the wood deck so it was only at the last minute when I lifted my head that I saw the steps that led to the elevated deck that had, smack dab in the middle of it, a massive, circular, wooden helm, its handles spiking out. And it was so big it had to be as tall as me.

Freaking awesome!

I was hoping we were going there (I wanted to get a closer look at that wheel) but we didn’t. Frey turned me right and led me along another passage for a few feet then he turned me left toward some steps going down. I had no choice but to take them (mainly because Frey wasn’t giving me one). Frey let my hand go, pushed me in that direction and put his hand to my head, pressing down so I didn’t bonk myself on the low overhang. Three steps down then under the overhang then five more and in through an open door. I walked a few feet into a room and stopped dead.

Frey’s cabin.

At what I saw, my eyes went huge, my heart started pumping and I was so excited I could barely breathe. I wanted to jump around or at least clap and shout “woo hoo!” but before I could do either of these, Frey got in my space and tipped my head up with a hand under my chin.

“I have to see to a few things, my Finnie,” he murmured. “If Skylar arrives before me, order some water to wash up, if you wish it, and let him know if you need food or wine.”

Then he bent, touched his lips to my forehead and without another word or look, he was gone.

I stared after him a few seconds then I slowly turned and took in the space.

“Holy moly,” I whispered.

It was everything I thought it would be, wanted it to be and more.

Directly ahead was the stern of the ship, I knew this because nearly the entire length of it was square-paneled glass where I could see some of the bay and the ship docked behind us. Under the window was a deep bench on which was a cushion covered in battered, dark brown leather and a tumbled line of dark brown, dark green and wine colored toss pillows.

Suspended in the middle of the window, how I did not know for it seemed to be in mid-air, was the spun glass dragon I’d given to Frey.

It looked freaking fantastic there. So fantastic, it was like it was made to be there.

I tore my eyes from the dragon and saw, sitting a bit of a ways in front of the window, was a desk, massive and well-used. It was covered in papers, some flat, others scrolled as well as fascinating objects I couldn’t wait to peruse, some of them instruments, others clearly weights to hold things down. Behind it was a heavily carved, just plain heavy looking chair.

To the left there was another vast table on which there appeared to be huge paper charts and maps, again some flat, some scrolled, some partly scrolled and more instruments and paperweights.

At the end of that side of the cabin by the door there was a small table with a copper bowl on top and a copper pitcher on a shelf under it, a wash basin. Over this hung an oval mirror framed in carved wood.

In the middle of the cabin there was a battered oval table surrounded by eight chairs.

To the right off the corner of the desk there was a seating area, one big, comfy looking chair with ottoman, a heavy table at its side, a lantern attached to the wall hanging over it to use to read by. Next to that was a divan style bed which was double wide at a stretch but very long (meaning, with Frey’s big body and mine, sleeping arrangements would be cozy). This was not covered in sheets but a scattering of hides as well as a mess of wool and velvet blankets and an abundance of velvet covered, tasseled, square toss pillows. All the velvets were rich colors like wine, chocolate brown, midnight blue and pine green.

There were portholes all around intermingled with some gauges and dials surrounded by brass, some weapons mounted in racks, hanging lanterns (all lit) and a few small paintings of seascapes.

There were also two crude space heaters that appeared to be portable on the floor. They looked like they were made of iron and there were fires lit in them in an effort to ward off the chill which somewhat succeeded and somewhat failed.

I also saw trunks, most of them I recognized as mine, lining the cabin behind the chart table.

In the back by the desk on the opposite side to the seating area there was a huge, standing globe and for some reason that was where I moved first.

When I got there I slowly turned the intricately painted globe with the tips of my fingers and, fascinated, I saw the map depicted on it showed that this world was not identical to my world. Not even close. There were no Americas, no Europe, Asia, Africa or Australia. There were Poles at top and bottom but that was the only thing that was the same.

I twirled the globe to find Lunwyn and noted, not surprisingly, it was at the top, nearly to a Pole. The wide Winter Sea was north of it, the icy Pole beyond. The Green Sea, painted emerald on the map, was to the west of Lunwyn and it was more like an ocean, incredibly vast. I saw Middleland, painted in dark greens and blacks and Hawkvale and Fleuridia, both depicted in deep greens with Fleuridia having a few light greens. And below the equator, there were countries, all painted in browns and creams, called Korwahk, Keenhak and Maroo.

I was turning the globe to see what lay beyond when I heard, “Milady?” and my head came up.

The boy was standing in the doorway.

He was looking uncomfortable and uncertain as well as impatient. I guessed that he had things to do and those didn’t include waiting on a woman in his captain’s quarters.

I moved away from the globe and toward the boy, saying, “Hello there. You’re Skylar?”

He nodded, watching as I approached him and shifting his body in a way that made him look strangely like he wanted to turn around and run.

“I’m Finnie,” I introduced myself before stopping several feet away.

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“And what do you do here, Skylar?” I asked.

“Captain’s boy, milady,” he answered.

I nodded thinking he was kind of young but what did I know, he was the only captain’s boy I’d ever met.

Then he asked on a prompt, “Aught I can get you, milady?”

I smiled. “Two things, some water so Frey and I can wash up after that ride and also not to call me your lady, instead, I’d like you to call me Finnie.”

He peered up at me then swallowed what appeared to be nervously then nodded again.

Then he stood there staring at me.

When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Is there something you wish to say?”

He shook his head and his body shifted again before he stated, “You haven’t dismissed me.”

Oh. Right.

I smiled again before telling him, “You can see to that water now, Skylar.”

He nodded again, once, quickly, then raced out.

Well, that was a little weird but… whatever.

Determining to ask Frey later, I finally set about having a good look around.

I’d had the opportunity to take off my cloak, hat and gloves, nose through Frey’s stuff on his desk and wash up when Skylar brought some warmed water to pour in the copper pitcher and I had a brass spyglass to one eye and was on my knees in the bench at the back, peering out at pretty much nothing (because it was still dark and there was a huge ass ship behind is that was in my way) when Frey came back.

I turned my head to watch him walk in and saw him stop and stare at me with unconcealed puzzlement.

“What are you gazing at, wife?”

I grinned at him, moved off the bench and put the spyglass on his desk while I walked to him and answered, “Seeing as it’s night, a whole lot of nothing. Still, that spyglass is cool, that bench is cool, that window is cool and this whole freaking cabin,” I stopped in front of him and slapped my hands lightly on his chest, tipping my head way back to look up at him, “is cool.”

His eyes moved over my face then he lifted a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb sweeping out to stroke my cheekbone.

What he didn’t do was smile back and I saw he looked distracted.

So I leaned in closer and asked, “Is everything okay?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he informed me, “We’re away soon.”

I smiled again and whispered, “Awesome.” Then I asked, “Can I come up on deck and watch while we set sail?”

He shook his head. “You need to sleep, wee one.”

I shook my head too. “Frey, I’m totally not tired.” And this was true, I was wired, not tired.

“All right,” he replied, “then I need to concentrate on navigating my ship out of the bay, my men need to concentrate on setting sail and while we do that none of us need to concentrate on my curious wife finding trouble as she wanders around discovering so I’ll ask you to stay in our cabin and stare through your scope at a lot of nothing.”

Hmm. Bummer.

Though I could understand why he wanted that and I could also do that for him.

“Okay,” I gave in. “But can I get a tour later?” I pushed and he again shook his head, not in the negative but as an indication he was used to me not giving up and I knew this didn’t annoy him when I saw his eyes warm but his mouth still did not curve into a smile.

“Skylar will take you around once we’re away.”

“Cool,” I said softly, studying him and sensing his thoughts were elsewhere but I wasn’t certain they were on navigating the bay.

He nodded and his hand dropped from my face but I caught it before he moved away.

“Frey,” I called, he stilled and his eyebrows went up. “Is everything okay?” I repeated my earlier question.

This time, he answered instantly, “Everything will be okay when we’re at sea and you’re surrounded by men I trust not to poison you or sink a dagger in your flesh.”

Ho boy.

Clearly someone had not had his mind taken off the events of the night by an awesome new city, doxies, galleons and a cool-as-shit captain’s cabin all of it straight out of a movie.

Therefore, I moved into him and circled him with my arms.

Pressing close and tilting my head way back, I whispered, “Honey, I’m okay.”

“Indeed,” he replied, curving his arms around me.

I tipped my head to the side and smiled big at him. “And we’re off on an adventure.”

His eyes again roamed my face before he murmured, “That we are, my Finnie.”

“So it’s all good,” I concluded and watched a darkness settle in his eyes.

Hmm. Maybe all was not good.

I gave him a squeeze and prompted, “Frey.”

“I bedded her,” he said quietly and I felt my brows draw together as my body tensed at his words.

“What?” I asked.

“I bedded her,” he repeated, one of his hands coming up to curl around my neck, he bent slightly so his face was closer to me. “I bedded her,” he said yet again and went on. “And asked her to attend the table the first night I returned with my new bride and your Mother shared that, in doing this, I gave her hope that she would again warm my bed, which, Finnie, I vow to you now that no matter what I said when I was angry with you, she did not.”

He was talking about Viola.

I nodded at this news that was not news to me and Frey kept talking.

“I’d no idea she was of weak character. I’d no idea her time with me led to an infatuation that was unhealthy. I’d no idea she would be open not only to conspiring to harm you but actually moving personally to carry out a plot to murder my wife.”

Ho boy.

“Frey –” I tried to break in on another squeeze of my arms but he bent deeper, got closer and kept talking.

“But she did and I knew the dangers you faced and it wasn’t my hand that tipped the vial of poison in the glass delivered to you but it was my actions that tipped her actions which means events unfolded, a woman lost her life and another woman narrowly avoided losing hers and that woman is my wife. So no, wee one, everything is not okay.”

All righty, this was a leap he was clearly determined to make, a leap that really made no sense but a leap founded in deep feelings of guilt and those kind never made any kind of sense.

And lastly, it was a leap from which I had to reel him back.

In an effort to do that, both my hands slid up his chest and came to rest on either side of his neck as I whispered, “What happened was not your fault.”

“I disagree, Finnie.”

I gave him a squeeze and a gentle shake. “Frey, you’re wrong.”

“Change places with me, my love, and tell me…” his hand gave me a squeeze too and he continued, “even if it was anyone but especially that it was this woman, a woman we argued over, an argument that spurred me to do something unwise which caused a rift between us, a woman you could only be sensitive about and, perhaps not now but possibly later, think about her, think about my thoughtless actions and what they led to and then let that fester. Knowing what already happened and what could happen as your mind invariably turns over the events of last night, how would you feel right now?”

Okay, he had a point there.

“Okay,” I said softly, “you have a point there but think about it. Firstly, if we were to change places and I was in your arms, feeling like shit that all this went down, in an effort to make me feel better and to understand it was really, truly not my fault, wouldn’t you explain that the actions of others are the actions of others? We had an argument and people do crazy things when they’re pissed. You were pissed and you acted on that. Everyone does stuff like that. You asked her to wait on a table, that’s it. You didn’t make any promises to her. She twisted that in her head and she did what she did but she did it. You can’t help it that you’re great in bed.” He did a slow blink at my words but I kept talking. “Well, I guess you could. If you wanted to be bad in bed, you could do that, I suppose. Though I’d ask you don’t start doing that now.”

“Finnie –”

“Because that would suck, for me.”

“Finnie –”

“And I didn’t try to poison anyone so I don’t think I should be punished.”

His hand at my neck gave me another squeeze; I focused more closely on him and saw that his lips were tipped up.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

“Do you feel better?” I asked back.

“Yes,” Frey answered and I pressed closer to him.

“Then yes,” I said softly.

Finally, he smiled fully at me then one of his hands slid down to wrap around me while the other hand slid up into the back of my hair so he could turn my head and press my cheek against his chest.

And, at that point, I felt better.

Then I felt his chest expand and contract as he let out a big breath before he whispered, “Thank you, wife.”

With both my arms around him, I gave him a squeeze and whispered back, “Your welcome, husband.”

He held me close for several seconds, I returned the gesture then when his hold loosened slightly, I tipped my head back to see he was looking down at me.

“As you peruse my cabin, try not to move anything so I can’t find it.”

Weird. He so totally knew me.

I laughed softly and nodded. “Okay, I’ll try.”

He grinned at me before he dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine. Then he said quietly, “We need to be away.”

I stared in his beautiful eyes and nodded.

He held my stare a second then let me go.

He was almost at the door when I called his name; he turned and looked at me, waiting.

“What’s your ship called?” I asked.

“The Finnie,” he answered casually and I felt every inch of my body lock.

Then my jaw released so I could ask on a breath, “What?”

Without hesitation, Frey replied, “When I decided you’d be travelling with me, and you demonstrated much excitement for this eventuality, I changed the registers, had her name sanded away, her new one painted on and rechristened her The Finnie.”

Oh.

My.

God.

He did not do that.

I looked at my husband standing patiently but obviously wishing to be away as the realization washed through me that he did do that.

I was stunned, my entire body felt warm, my heart felt light and I knew that quicksand was closing in on my chin.

And I had absolutely no intention of making the slightest effort to pull myself out.

“What was she named before?” I whispered.

“The Skadi,” he answered then, even ready to leave, he took the time to explain. “Ancient lore told that Skadi was brave but it also said that she preferred the mountains. There was a time when she needed to be called Skadi. That time is past for my Finnie makes the most of everywhere she happens to be including, I’m sure I will find, the sea.”

Yes, he so totally knew me.

“I’ll make the most of it,” I promised quietly.

“I know you will, love,” Frey replied quietly then continued just as quietly but also gently, “though, you keep talking, there won’t be anything to make.”

I smiled at him. “We could delay a bit, go out to one of those wharf side pubs, have a drink and I could chat to some doxies.”

He started chuckling and shook his head. “I see this would intrigue you, my wee one, but I must inform you now so when we return you won’t have your heart set on it, you will never be going to those pubs, having a drink and chatting to doxies.”

I grinned at him.

We’d see about that.

I decided not to say that and instead ordered, “Go, navigate your ship, my handsome husband. I have poking around to do and important papers and instruments to misplace.”

He grinned as he walked back to me, cupped my jaw with his hand and again touched his lips to mine, this time harder and longer but not hard or long enough for me.

Then, his fingers drifting gently along my jaw as he released me, Frey smiled into my eyes, turned and walked out of the cabin.

I stared at the door for awhile after he’d gone thinking I was standing on a beautiful ship a beautiful man named after me.

Yes, I was standing on a beautiful ship a beautiful man named after me.

Then I bit my lip but even so, I was biting it while smiling.

Then I turned my attention to poking around and misplacing his papers and instruments.