Wildest Dreams

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fire and Blood

Two months later…

“Frey,” Finnie breathed into his mouth and gods, gods, every time she said his name like that, from the very first time she did it when he felt the unreal softness of her hair in his loft in his cabin, Frey Drakkar felt the whisper of his wife’s voice saying his name right in his cock.

Then she gave him her neck as her head arched back, her fingers fisted in his hair, her other arm clutched him tight and she rammed herself down on his shaft as she climaxed.

Frey spun her to her back, her long hair splashed across their bed, her four limbs held tight even as she continued gasping through her orgasm and his hips pumped between her legs.

He fought the climax that threatened to explode so he could take in her beautiful face awash with pleasure, the vision of her hair all over the sheets, the feel of her arms and legs gripping him tight, the brilliant torture of her sex spasming around his driving cock then he couldn’t fight it anymore and through five, deep, hard strokes he poured his seed inside his wife.

Frey dropped his forehead to the bed beside her and focused on her soft body under him, her wet tightness enveloping his cock, her hands drifting light along his back, the smell of her skin and he rethought their plans to leave Hawkvale on the morrow to return to Lunwyn.

He liked right where he was.

“Are you sure you want to go home, wife?”

“No,” she whispered and he lifted further up on his forearm to look down at her, his other hand moving to cup the side of her head, his thumb drawing circles at her temple. “But there are places to go, people to meet, things to do,” she finished on an appealing, sated grin.

That was his Finnie. Her feet itched.

“This bed is very comfortable,” he observed but made his point by shifting his hips between her legs then he watched with satisfaction as her eyelids lowered and her lips parted.

Then she lifted her head to touch her lips to his throat and dropped it back.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It is. But so is your bed on your ship.” She grinned again. “I like the velvet blankets.” Her four limbs gave him a squeeze as did her sex and a short, low rumble slid up his throat which caused her to smile a very appealing, very sated smile. “And it’s narrow so we have to cuddle,” she concluded.

“We cuddle even in this big bed,” Frey pointed out.

“Indeed,” she whispered, her eyes growing soft and moving over his face before she said quietly, “If you wish to stay, husband, I’m good with staying.”

“And if you wish to go, wife, I’m good with going,” he replied and she smiled again.

“Then we’ll go,” she decided, Frey smiled back and dropped his head to touch his lips to hers.

“Yes, my wee one,” he said softly after he lifted his head, “we’ll go.”

Her hand drifted up his spine and into his hair as her eyes drifted to his mouth.

She touched her lips to his and repeated quietly, “We’ll go.”

Then she kissed him, unhooked a leg from his hip, planted her foot in the bed and bucked to roll him to his back.

He allowed this because she went with him.

Then he allowed his wife to make best use of their big, soft bed.

Again.

* * * * *

Frey moved through the bedroom to get his gloves. After her archery lesson with Annar, he was taking her riding through his estate and the village one last time before they left early the next morning.

Absently, his eyes moved through the room which had been the setting for some very happy memories since they arrived nearly six weeks ago after docking the ship in Bellebryn, staying in that small city state for a week because Finnie was enthralled by its charm and then making their way into Hawkvale to his chateau.

Finnie had been even more Finnie as she discovered the appeal of Hawkvale (though she surprised him by telling him she favored Lunwyn, felt more at home there and preferred the clothing of Fyngaard). She’d delighted in every second they spent in Bellebryn, travelling to then being at his chateau and, as always with Finnie, she didn’t hide it.

And Frey delighted in giving it to her.

Even so, without Finnie in his arms and Frey in her, he had to admit he was ready to move on. He could not remember the last time he’d stayed in one place for so long and as enjoyable as it was with Finnie, he was keen to take her on her next adventure.

His step slowed and his brows drew together as he saw one of Finnie’s small trunks open on the dresser. Jewelry and hair bobs spilled out and poking out of the top was the edge of a small envelope used by herbalists to hold tinctures or powders to prepare draughts.

Frey moved to it automatically, feeling mild surprise. Except for the falsehood she told of being unwell when they argued about Viola, Finnie had not ever complained of feeling sick and he knew the adela tree bark used for tea was always ritually held in a purple pouch as a nod to the goddess, not to mention, she’d told him she only had enough for that one cup.

When he arrived at the dresser, he saw there was more than one of these small envelopes in her trunk. In fact, there were several. He lifted one out, folded open the top, put it to his nose and he smelled a hint of citrus, rosemary, ginger all of it nearly overwhelmed by the aroma of mint.

His body froze but even so heat burned from his gut upwards, setting fire to his chest.

He knew that smell.

Pennyrium.

Pennyrium.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, that whisper shaking with fury.

His wife was dosing with gods damned pennyrium to guard against conceiving his gods damned child.

Without his knowledge.

And without, except for a brief conversation a long bloody time ago that by no means had ended in a definite bloody decision, without discussion.

And further, without his permission.

He pulled in a deep breath to calm the fire in his chest.

This did not work.

Then he reminded himself his wife was of another world. Perhaps, in her world, females did this regularly.

But he could not fathom that. He could not fathom any world where such an integral discussion between any wife and her husband, especially considering the bloody conception of a gods damned child meant the continued peaceful rule of an entire, bloody kingdom, for the gods sakes, would not only happen between that wife and her gods damned husband but would be crucial.

And further, she was the one who introduced the subject in the first damned place. Clearly, in her world, this was discussed amongst partners and decisions made prior to any action.

He stared at the packet in his hand.

Pennyrium. Taken daily it very rarely failed to prevent a woman getting with child. And the longer it was utilized, the longer it took for its effects to clear after it was ceased. In some instances, when women had recklessly used it for years, it had made them infertile.

She could have chosen differently but then again, if she had, it would mean contacting a witch to cast a spell or speaking with him to convince him to wear a sheath something, admittedly, he had no bloody intention of doing with his damned wife especially since that wife was Finnie and he was not about to shield his sex from hers and thus have a bloody, gods damned barrier between them not to mention diminish the pleasure she gave him.

So she had decided on pennyrium.

Bloody hell.

Frey folded over the envelope and tucked it back in her trunk. Then he found his gloves and exited the room.

He did not, however, go outside to watch Finnie finish working with Annar and her bow.

No, he found the first of his men he could find, which was Oleg, then he ordered tersely, “Find Ruben and send him to me in my study immediately.”

Oleg grunted, jerked up his chin and moved away.

Frey went to his study which had a window that faced the back garden where Finnie, looking too tempting by half in her tight breeches with her skin now honeyed by the kiss of Hawkvale’s bright sun, was at the bow, her target now thirty feet away instead of the twenty where she’d started as she had improved and Annar felt he should increase her challenge.

Annar was standing behind her, Skylar at her side, his own target twenty feet away, his bow shorter and easier for him to wield.

Frey tossed his gloves on his desk and turned back to the window to watch his wife.

She was paying more attention to Skylar than her task, as she always did and watching it, Frey’s mouth grew tight.

She was brilliant with the boy and refused to leave him behind with the crew on his ship as Frey usually did. She had said she wanted his lessons to continue but this was nonsense. She wanted time to light those dark places the boy had haunting his soul.

And she did. She didn’t work miracles but she tended him gently, cautiously and regularly giving him just enough distance and closing in only when Skylar offered her a sign he was comfortable with her doing so.

Then, not long ago, all her careful tending broke through and the boy blossomed.

Hell, Frey heard their laughter while they were in this same bloody room not two bloody hours ago while she was working with him on his letters and numbers.

She’d make a brilliant gods damned mother. Why in the bloody hell was she dosing with pennyrium?

“Frey?” Ruben called his name and Frey turned from the window to see his man walking into the room.

“The door, Ben,” Frey ordered, Ruben stopped, gave him a look then turned back and closed the door before he walked into the room and stopped four feet from Frey.

“You don’t look happy,” Ruben observed.

“This would be because I am not,” Frey replied.

Ruben said nothing.

Frey did. “Upstairs, in Finnie’s trunk on the dresser, you’ll find several envelopes of pennyrium.” Ruben blinked, his chest expanded with his big breath and he crossed his arms over it but Frey kept speaking. “Count them. Then go to the herbalist in the village. Have her create a powder that very closely resembles the sight, smell and taste of pennyrium but has none of its medicinal properties. Purchase the exact quantity of the exact same number of envelopes and then switch them with what’s in Finnie’s trunk. Then dispose immediately of what’s in that trunk.”

Ruben didn’t move and he still did not speak.

“Ben, this has to happen today. We leave on the morrow,” Frey prompted.

“I take it you didn’t know Finnie was dosing with pennyrium,” Ruben remarked.

“You take that correctly.”

Ruben nodded but still didn’t move.

“Ruben,” Frey growled.

“You remember Olivia,” Ruben stated.

Frey did and that was why his jaw got tight and he crossed his arms on his chest as well.

“I did not ask you here for a lecture, Ben, I asked you here to give you an order.”

“I am your man, Frey, but I am also your friend,” Ruben replied. “And as your friend, I advise you to ask your wife here for a discussion rather than switch her draughts on the sly.”

The burn in Frey’s chest intensified.

“I appreciate you taking the time to give me your opinion regardless that I didn’t ask for it,” Frey said softly, his tone unmistakable and Ruben wouldn’t mistake it, they’d known each other over a decade and he’d heard it many times.

He still ignored it.

“Frey,” Ruben returned softly, “Olivia made this decision for us. Yes, if she hadn’t, I would not have Lincoln. And yes, now, seven years later, I could not imagine my life without Linc. What I can tell you is, when I was under the assumption she was taking the pennyrium as this was what I told her to do and she was not, she made that choice on her own, acted without my knowledge and she told me she was with my child, I was far from happy. You know this. You and Thad were called to pull me out of her cottage when the level of my anger erased my common sense after the news was delivered. I urge you to think about how Finnie would feel if she learns you have essentially done the same.”

“I do remember this, Ruben, and you were justifiably angry,” Frey returned. “She was your woman, you are a man and it is your right to make this decision, not hers. You’d informed her of your decision regarding pennyrium and she did not bow to that decision. Your reaction was not wrong and your anger did erase your common sense at the time, though she did not feel the power of your hand and many of the men thought she should. However, you also did not bring charges as you could. I respected your decision and understood you did not wish your son’s mother to spend the duration of her pregnancy in bound service to her realm. Your leniency saved Olivia that sentence but Olivia’s decision lost her you for you never went back to her bed and, I have heard, no man does for fear of the same befalling him.”

Ruben’s chest expanded again as he conceded this point nonverbally.

Frey went on. “My wife is a princess whose duty it is to birth the future king of our country. She was not born thus but that does not mean she does not know it. She does. She knows it very well. I am the father of the future king but even if I was not, I am a man and the decision to wait or not is mine. She must understand this because we discussed this very early upon being wed, she was the one who introduced the discussion but no decision was made. She is dosing with pennyrium on the sly for she has never dosed before me and it is my right to make her desist in doing so and it is my choice how I do that.” He paused and held his friend’s gaze before he finished, “And this is my choice, Ben. Go to the herbalist in the village and see to it that Finnie’s pennyrium is destroyed.”

“Finnie is of another world, Frey, and although she has been here for some time now, she is still becoming accustomed to ours. She is wrong in her decision but that decision is understandable.” Ruben said quietly and when Frey made no response he went on quietly, “Mate, I can’t help but think this is a bad idea.”

“The bad idea was Finnie’s,” Frey replied. “I’m rectifying it.”

Ruben hesitated. Frey lost patience.

Therefore he commanded, “Ben. Go.”

Ruben took in another breath, nodded then turned and left the room.

Frey turned back to the window and watched his wife pull back on her bow and let fly.

With her near daily practice, not only had her target grown more distant, her aim had grown truer. All her arrows were embedded in the circle just outside the bulls-eye and the one she just let loose was no different.

He pulled in a calming breath that, with Ruben on his errand, actually calmed him.

His Finnie, he knew, would have some reason she did what she did. It might be a foolhardy reason but it was likely she did not think so.

And he determined to discuss it with her at some later date when his anger was not so close to the surface.

And this later date would be around the time she missed her first cycle and he knew his seed had found purchase in her womb, she was further bound to him through their child and the future of the realm was safe.

There came a knock on the door, he turned to it and called, “Enter.”

Then he watched the chateau’s housekeeper come in, stop and announce, “There is a woman here who says she urgently needs to speak with your princess.”

Frey sighed again.

Of this, he had no doubt. As in Houllebec, Finnie wasted no time befriending nearly everyone in the village. It was not unusual that a woman came calling so she could sit with coffee or wine and his wife and they could cackle about whatever women cackled about.

The urgency of the message, however, slightly surprised him.

“And she is?” Frey asked although he really did not care.

“Says her name is Agnes. She’s of your land, my lord,” the housekeeper replied but at her first five words, the burn in Frey’s gut and chest changed as ice encased his innards and then crawled through his veins.

“Bring her to me immediately and she is not seen nor does she see my princess,” Frey ordered, the housekeeper nodded and swept out.

Frey lifted a hand to his neck and his fingers squeezed. He did not turn back to the window. He waited for the witch to come through the door.

When she did, he dropped his hand and waited for the housekeeper to close it behind her.

“I thought I made myself clear,” he stated quietly, his eyes locked with her faded blue ones.

“You did, Drakkar,” she replied just as quietly.

“If this is true, you’re here because?” he prompted.

“I have an urgent message for your Finnie,” she told him.

“And you did the last time we spoke in Lunwyn. And my message to you was that you do not see or speak to my wife,” Frey returned.

What was now months ago, just days after Frey and Finnie argued over Viola, Stephan had intercepted the witch Agnes when she visited the Winter Palace and demanded to speak to the princess. For obvious reasons, his men vetted anyone who made such a demand. Upon hearing who she was Steph wisely brought her to Frey.

It took some doing but Frey had convinced her to share the message she had for Finnie and this was a message Frey himself had not, at that time, yet delivered to his wife. The message was that Finnie’s witch from her world, a woman called Valentine, had sensed the elves binding spell and she had communicated with this Agnes to warn Finnie this had happened and awaited instruction on what she should be doing in her world to rectify the situation.

Frey had, at the time, lied to Agnes saying Finnie was well aware this had happened and was happy to remain in his world. And he had paid her to communicate the same to this Valentine.

He had also warned her not to see or try to speak to Finnie without seeing him first. He paid her for that too. He’d also made it very clear what would befall her if she reneged on their deal.

Since then, of course, he and Finnie had spoken of where she came from and his falsehood had turned true.

Frey knew straight to the depths of his soul, more and more as every moment passed with his wife, that she was pleased she’d risked her venture and, in the end, been bound to him as his wife and thus to his world.

What Agnes would travel to Hawkvale to communicate, and risk communicating it, he could not fathom nor did he wish to know.

But he had no choice but to find out.

And his concern was that something had befallen one of the friends his wife spoke so lovingly about. This was something that would cause Finnie distress for she felt deeply, especially when she came to care about someone but even when she hardly knew them.

And if there were problems, Finnie would feel it. She would feel it worse for she could not return and do anything to help.

And he did not want his wife to feel distress but if this had happened, he was powerless to help except offer his neck for her to sob into and although he knew his presence soothed her, he also knew in such a case this would be no help at all.

“You did, Drakkar, but there is much news,” Agnes replied.

“And this news is?” Frey asked.

“Princess Sjofn, of our world,” she paused, “much is happening.”

Frey’s body got tight as the jagged shards of the ice slithering through his veins started scoring.

“And what is Princess Sjofn of our world up to?” Frey queried.

The witch took two steps toward him, leaned in and whispered, “Drakkar, the princess is a guenipe.”

Frey instantly relaxed.

“I’m aware.”

The witch’s brows shot up then she started, “The Princess Finnie –”

He cut her off. “My wife, too, is aware.”

She leaned back, visibly surprised at this news, and she surveyed him.

Then she stated, “This may be so, and Valentine reports the dalliances are discreet, but nevertheless, she is living the life of your wife in that other world and no matter how discreet, word has a way of getting out. Valentine tells me it is there not like it is here. There are people who do not accept the guenipes. There are even those who are violently opposed to them.”

Finnie had told him of this curious fact about her world, something not shared with his own. Frey himself had no issue with guenipes, unless, of course, he was pledged to marry one.

“This is true, witch, but as Finnie will never return to that world, it matters not.”

“Perhaps she will not agree,” Agnes suggested.

“I can assure you she already knows and she does not care,” Frey stated then crossed his arms on his chest and his brows went up. “You travelled all the way from Lunwyn for this?”

She shook her head. “No. This is not the only news. It isn’t even half of it.”

Gods damn it.

“Spit it out,” he clipped.

“There have been many communications back and forth. Many communications,” she stressed. “And Princess Sjofn is aware of the perils the Princess Finnie is facing, including the assassination attempts.”

“And?” Frey prompted.

“And she is feeling great guilt about these perils,” her face went slightly hard before she went on, “as she should. Through our communications both Valentine and I have become aware that the Princess Sjofn has been far from forthright with your Finnie.”

After that, the witch said no more.

“And this matters because…?” Frey asked, losing patience.

“It matters because her guilt is ascending. She’s becoming frantic about these perils she’s placed Finnie under. She’s gravely concerned something will befall her. Princess Sjofn is highly trained and rightly feels she is better equipped to deal with these threats, as she has proven in the past. And I can assure you, Drakkar, that communication is not easy for me and it is not cheap for Princess Sjofn. Every time she sends a message through Valentine, she pays dearly for it and the messages are coming one on the heels of another.”

When she quit speaking, Frey lifted his brows, not about to prompt her again.

“Drakkar,” she snapped, “it is not her currency Princess Sjofn is using. It is your Finnie’s.”

“Again, this matters not,” Frey replied. “Finnie has no further use of that currency. She is mine and my coin and property are hers. And, woman, I’ll remind you she has taken over the life of Sjofn and is now a princess with her own funds and property, that property being a bloody palace.”

“That may be so, Drakkar, but I’m telling you, Sjofn’s guilt is ascending. She is now talking of paying Valentine to send her back.”

Frey felt the ice disintegrate as the fire came back.

“By the gods, you jest,” he whispered.

“No.” She shook her head. “Valentine is refusing until she hears word from Finnie. But Princess Sjofn is making refusal difficult for she’s offering three million of what they call ‘dollars’ and from what I gather from Valentine, this is enough coin to set a single being in a life of relative opulence for decades.”

“My princess is bound here and Sjofn bound there by the elves,” Frey reminded her.

“Valentine is strong, Drakkar. I cannot say for certain if she can circumvent an elfin spell. What I can say is that I feel her power and if anyone can, she can.”

Gods damn it.

“And if she were to return Sjofn here, would that mean my princess would go there?” Frey asked.

The witch shook her head. “The talk is not of the Princess Finnie returning to her world, but only of Sjofn returning here.”

“She cannot return,” Frey declared.

“I know this, Drakkar, but she is determined.”

“Then tell this Valentine to tell Sjofn that if she does, I will see to it that she sits at a secret tribunal to hear testimony of her treason after which, when judgment is passed, she will face private execution. Her mother and father both agree that her selfish actions brand her traitor to the realm and traitor to the crown and if they do, any head of a House chosen to be judge at her tribunal will as well. All of this will be done without any but the four people involved knowing it is done, plus, of course, her executioner. Sjofn will be hanged for her crimes but no one will be the wiser as Finnie carries on as princess then king mother. This news, I would suspect, will likely halt her desperate attempts to return and make amends for her treacherous actions.”

“I agree,” Agnes said softly, her eyes again surveying him, “but do you not think your wife should have some say in issues of such great import?”

“No,” Frey answered shortly.

She surveyed him again closely and he sensed she did not agree.

He did not care.

Then, wisely moving on, she declared, “There is more you need to know.”

Frey waited.

She took in breath.

Then she stated, “Valentine is a powerful witch.”

“You’ve explained that,” Frey replied and she had, as did the elves.

Agnes went on. “She is witch not seer.” She paused then announced, “But I am both.”

At the look on her face, the fire died and the ice returned.

“Speak,” he ordered.

She pulled in breath then let it out on a whispered, “Drakkar, I see fire and blood and I see it around your Finnie.”

Frey’s body locked so he wouldn’t go back on a foot at this news.

“Fire and blood?” he asked softly.

“Dragon fire,” she whispered, “the heat so intense, buildings melt. And blood, so much, her boots stand in rivers of it. I dream of it, I dream of it every night, I can’t stop dreaming of it.”

“I control the dragons,” Frey reminded her quietly.

“And in ancient times, when The Drakkar called the dragons to duty, it is told it was not unknown for an innocent to perish in the line of their fire.”

Frey was silent as that ice again stole through his veins.

Agnes spoke on. “It is an awful thought, worse to speak of and worse still for you to make the decision, but I believe you should relent to the return of Sjofn and let it be her that faces this future, not your Finnie.”

“You’re speaking of murder,” Frey replied, his gut twisting with disgust.

“You yourself said if she returned she’d face certain execution,” Agnes retorted.

“Execution, witch, is not murder,” Frey clipped.

She lifted her chin to grant his point then said, “I see the vision, I dream the dream, I do not know if it is Sjofn or Finnie who stands in the fire and blood. I also do not know the outcome. The fire surrounds her, the blood flows over her boots. But I do know this will happen, Drakkar. Never, not once since I started dreaming the visions as a wee girl, has one not come true.” She pulled in a visible breath and finished, “I am sorry but this is your choice. If you bar Sjofn’s return to this world, you must pray to Keer who holds Princess Finnie’s and your destinies in his hands or you make the dreadful choice to stand Sjofn in that fire. But the choice is yours.”

Frey studied her.

Then he asked, “You say you do not see the outcome?”

She shook her head and confirmed, “I do not.”

“And how does Finnie or Sjofn come to this pass?”

“I do not see that either, Drakkar.”

“And is she alone or surrounded by men, guards, soldiers?”

She shook her head again and repeated, “I do not see that either.”

Frustration crawled up his throat and he growled, “This vision is not very helpful.”

Her back shot straight. “I’m not a fortune teller as they don’t exist,” she snapped. “I am a seer. I do not control the visions, they come to me. This is what I saw, it was grave and because of that I have travelled far to inform you but this was all I saw.”

At that moment, a loud, feminine cry of delight pierced through the room and Frey turned to the windows.

Finnie was jumping up and down, her arms around Annar’s neck with one hand still holding her bow. Her movements were so excited the arrows in the quiver strapped across her back were cascading to the green grass at her feet. Annar was standing feet planted firm to the ground, his hands at her waist but her exuberance was jolting his body. He was in profile but Frey could see his man’s wide smile.

Finnie detached swiftly from Annar, whirled to face an excited Skylar, threw both her arms up in the air, still holding her bow and shrieked her delight again before she bent and caught Skylar up in a tight embrace, shaking him side to side as Frey heard her laugh.

Skylar’s boyish laughter mingled with hers.

Frey’s eyes moved to Finnie’s target and he saw the arrows had been cleared. Now there were only two.

One in the circle outside the bulls-eye.

One embedded directly in the middle of it.

He felt his lips curve into a smile.

She’d done it.

Fire and blood.

Frey’s smile died.

Then he turned to the witch.

“Have you eaten?”

She blinked then asked, “What?”

His eyes moved over her dusty, travel worn gown. “You’ve travelled far, have you eaten?”

She shook her head and said, “I have made haste, starting on my journey the minute I learned from Finnie’s Jocelyn that you were at the chateau. I have ridden hard, consumed little and slept even less due to my haste and that dream. So no, Drakkar, it has been since yesterday I have eaten.”

He nodded. Then he stated, “I will order a meal for you. You have three hours to eat it, wash and rest. Then you are away with one of my men. You will ride fast to Bellebryn and board the first vessel bound for Lunwyn. You live in Fyngaard?”

“Just outside it, yes.”

Frey nodded again. “You will go home, my man will accompany you and you will prepare to be away for some time. Finnie and I leave on the morrow, headed back to Lunwyn ourselves. We will first go to the Rimée Keep so she can see her parents. My man will take you there. We will stay there a week, perhaps two, then we will be moving on to my lodge in Kellshorn. You will follow us.”

Her brows drew together, “But, I don’t under –”

Frey impatiently anticipated her question and therefore answered it before it was fully asked, “So that I will know immediately, I want you close at all times should you receive more communications from the other world, have any dreams that shed further light on the situation you fear will befall my Finnie or any dreams you have about Finnie at all. And I want you to use your powers to protect my wife.” He paused and added, “For these endeavors, you will be paid.”

“There is no protection against dragon fire, Drakkar, you know that,” Agnes stated quietly.

“Finnie faces a variety of dangers, witch, and there are protections for those,” Frey returned.

The witch nodded.

Then she took a step toward him, her gaze grew cautious but her mouth opened to speak.

“There are no dragons in the other world, Drakkar.”

Frey’s body went solid and it did this because he took her meaning.

Then he whispered, “You speak treason.”

She pressed her lips together, clearly hesitant, but went on, “I do and I do with purpose. There are few matches like yours with Finnie in this world or hers. So few, they are so rare, they are precious and need to be protected at all costs. Valentine may be able to break the binding spell of the elves and she could take your Finnie and you to the other world where she’ll be safe. If Princess Sjofn doesn’t run through it, your princess has the means for you both to live there comfortably for the entirety of your days and –”

Frey leaned toward her and cut her off. “Witch,” he clipped, his tone fierce, “you… talk… treason.” She leaned back slightly and pressed her lips together but Frey went on, “And treason is heinous but what you speak of is worse. If I were to remove Finnie from this world, an elfin, dragonian child will not sit on the Lunwyn throne as our gods desire, our frosted land would again descend into turmoil, the dragons would lose their Drakkar and would remain at slumber in their caves for the gods know how long. The fact I am The Drakkar means there is a threat looming for all of Lunwyn for which the dragons will need to be roused. And lastly, the elves would again be betrayed by The Frey and because of that may retreat for another seven centuries or worse, may never ascend again. And you know that breaking their binding spell would mean sacrifice, the elves will demand it as their due before they withdraw to their realm. I do not know what this sacrifice will be but I do know it will be terrible. The gods have chosen Finnie for me and me for Lunwyn. Our destinies are linked and this link is for the future of Lunwyn. We cannot desert our land. This cannot happen.”

She stepped back, her eyes moving to contemplate the rug and she nodded but he saw her hands shaking with fear, as they would. It took great courage for her to suggest betraying his country, his responsibilities and the elves.

But she did it to advocate safe harbor for his wife.

“I will forget you suggested it,” Frey said quietly.

“Thank you, Drakkar.”

Frey continued speaking softly and when he did her eyes moved back to him.

“As you can see, we must do all we can to keep my princess safe.”

Agnes nodded. “It will be my honor to serve The Drakkar and his Ice Bride.”

“My thanks,” Frey replied, watched her draw in a breath then he stated, “I will see to your meal and bath. You’re away in three hours.”

Agnes nodded again.

Frey moved to the door muttering, “Safe journey, I will see you in Snowdon.”

He did not await her response.

He went in search of the housekeeper.

Then he went directly to his wife.