Wildest Dreams

Chapter Four

Home Sweet Home

Needless to say, since I’d never driven one, I didn’t know how to steer a sleigh.

And also needless to say, my new husband frowned on this.

So after we cleared town on a fast gallop and kept on going like the devil himself was at our heels and my sleigh kinda went awry a couple of times, necessitating my new husband on his mighty beast circling it closely to right its course, after which, each time, he aimed a ferocious scowl at me that made my heart skip and not in a good way, I learned quick.

Eventually, we slowed to a fast trot and as I got the hang of things, I had a look around the sleigh. First, there were some hooks in the panel in front of me so I secured the reins to them and quickly donned my cloak and pulled on my gloves mostly because it was bitter cold and I was freezing my ass off. My dress was awesome and it was velvet but I’d never experienced a cold that cold and I never thought I’d say it or even think it but I needed fur.

I sat down and saw a big fur blanket on the floor of the sleigh in front of me and also a furry, white hat had fallen there. I exchanged the crown for the hat and pulled the blanket on top of me, shoving it under my ass to tuck it secure as high as I could get it around my body. Then I secured the crown as best I could in the open sleigh.

Better.

Then I grabbed the reins again and took stock.

I had four, beautiful dapple gray horses pulling me and behind me in the sleigh there was a shiny, black piece of fabric with what appeared in the forest-muted moonlight a gold and red crest stitched into it stretched over a bunch of bulky stuff and held down with gleaming, gold, what looked like silk ropes.

My luggage, apparently.

Okay. Well, there you go.

Off I was on my honeymoon.

Ho boy.

It was at this point when I thought I really, really should have listened to Claudia.

We kept riding, and, well, sleighing through the snow and The Dragon didn’t engage me in conversation as we did. I didn’t try either. I concentrated on not steering my horses into any trees. Then I concentrated on my cheeks not freezing off.

We trotted ever onward in newlywed silence that was more than a little disconcerting but I hung with it not sure I wanted the alternative. Early experience indicated my husband wasn’t a skilled conversationalist and considering he gave the impression he didn’t like me much, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what he might have to say.

After some time, we cleared the forest and moved into a vast, snow covered plain that was absolutely gorgeous considering the snow sparkled and the entire vista was blanketed by the twinkling moonlit sky that was filled with what seemed like three times as many stars as any night sky I ever beheld. Then, after some time, we went through a small village that I wished we’d slowed even a little bit as we went through so I could take in more because it seemed mega cool, but we didn’t.

Not even a little bit.

The Dragon led us ever onward through more plain then forest then I started to get concerned about the state of my horses, and his, but he drove us on.

And on.

We went through another town, this one larger, but still no slowing.

That was when I realized I was getting hungry and my hands hurt from holding onto the reins. My body was ensconced in fur so I was actually toasty warm, it was just my cheeks that were cold. So cold, they hurt.

I decided it would probably not be smart to share this as my husband wasn’t talkative and he clearly didn’t like me so I figured he wouldn’t want to listen to me bitch (even with justification) so I didn’t share. I just tried to ignore it and didn’t quite succeed but didn’t outright fail either.

He led us through more forest and we kept right on going. We had long since left the mountain town or city type place behind, and with it my parents, which I did not think was good. Nor did I like it.

So, I pulled up the courage then pulled in a breath and started to say loudly, “Uh –”

“Quiet!” he barked without even looking at me.

Shit.

I was right. Not a big conversationalist.

Okay, I’ll deal with the next second. Then the next. And the next. And the next. And so on. Focus on the now. On just the now, I told myself.

So I focused on the now and in so doing I noticed I was right, a sleigh ride was fun. Maybe not one that lasted hours through a dark, cold night but I decided not to focus on that and instead focus on the fun part.

And I discovered that commanding the sleigh was even more fun. I tried things out, found that the horses were obviously highly trained, they adjusted to even the most minimal change of their reins and that was super cool.

I did this for awhile and then got over it. It was fun but we’d been going for hours and nothing was fun for that long and certainly not driving a sleigh.

We cleared the massive forest and were on another plain, this one by a sparkling river lit with moonlight which was pretty cool.

Then we went through another town which was also cool but we didn’t slow so I didn’t see much of it.

This lasted a long, long, long, long time and I was definitely hungry, definitely worried about the state of my horses because they’d been going at a good clip for what was now hours and I was closing in on pissed when the sun started kissing the sky and we entered another forest.

It wasn’t lost on me that the air was even more frigid wherever we were now compared to the arctic clime we left (in other words, it was now fucking cold rather than just freaking cold and suffice it to say I had thought it was fucking cold before but now I knew the true meaning of that) and I lost my pique when I saw the trunks of the trees, all the way up, were dusted with snow, heavier on one side where the wind drifted it up or lifted it to powder the higher bark.

It was fantastically gorgeous.

What was more gorgeous was when we hit a sleepy, marshmallow-snow roofed, icicle-dripping, chimney-smoke-drifting village in a somewhat cleared area. That was, trees scattered the level area and the hillside the village decorated but they were not as thick as the forest. There was a wide-ish glistening creek running through the village with several streams meeting it criss-crossing across the forest floor and running down the hill to join the river (in fact, my horses and sleigh glided over two such streams). And there were two large streams of steaming water that clearly came from hot springs that glided down the hill and poured into the creek. There were even not one, but two wooden water wheels.

Definitely cool!

I really wanted to take that village in because it was way cooler than all the rest and all the rest were already cool but we went straight through it then kept going through the forest for what I estimated was five minutes before The Dragon turned his steed, I turned my horses with him and then I had to concentrate because this was not a road. We were going through the forest proper and I had to focus on steering my horses through as well as not getting hit by a big, low hanging branch (of which there were a lot) or whipped by smaller ones (of which there were a lot more).

Then I saw it, up on a rise surrounded by trees, a building with some outbuildings. It looked cockeyed because one side was one story, the other side with what looked like a half a story on top.

The Dragon slowed and so did I. I was pretty pleased how I brought the sleigh around to the front executing a tight curve in the small area allowed (truth be told, the horses pretty much knew what they were doing and obviously did all the work but I thought we all managed it with great aplomb) and then we came to a halt.

By the time I did this, The Dragon was already off his horse and opening the front door to the dwelling. What he was not doing was smiling proudly at me and calling, “Well done, my new wife in her gorgeous princess wedding finery!”

Hmm.

It appeared this was either home sweet home or where we were stopping for some rest.

And it appeared that The Dragon was no gentleman and was not going to assist his new bride from her awesome sleigh.

And it also appeared that the next few minutes were going to be crucial. I had to be alert, be smart and handle them right. I had no idea what was going on and I had no idea how to handle that frightening man but somehow I was going to have to find out the first and do the second.

My body ached, my hands hurt, my cheeks were numb from the cold, I could eat my way through an entire buffet and then I could sleep for a week but I still got up, found the latch, opened the door to my sleigh, stepped down into the snow and followed my groom into the house.

He was standing in the middle of it, hands on hips, feet planted wide, staring at me looking fierce and impatient like I’d made him wait for an hour while I tried on a variety of shoes to see which matched my outfit rather than made him wait what was likely around two minutes, if that.

I took as much of the dwelling in as I could in a quick, rounded glance and I saw a kitchen at the back, over it I saw I was right, a low-ceiling loft with short railing that you got to using a ladder. The roof was at a slant, opening wide at the front room where there was no loft. A big room at the front. Stone fireplace on either side. Another fireplace I could see in the loft. And a closed door to a space beside the kitchen.

And everything was filthy, absolutely. There was what looked like a hundred years of dust and even cobwebs all over it (not that I could imagine spiders existing in this climate but clearly they did at some point). There was furniture covered by graying sheets. Windows so covered in grime you could barely see through them. And there were heavy curtains having caught so much dust, it had actually started dripping.

Eek!

The Dragon suddenly spoke and I jumped, my gaze swinging to him.

“The stable is stocked for your horses. The larder for you. Logs, fuel and supplies out back. More logs in the shed. You should be provided for.”

I blinked at him in confusion at his words as he stalked to a counter that jutted out, separating the kitchen-type area from the living room type area. Then he dropped a leather pouch on it, it made a loud, thumping jangle and he turned, walking toward the door while speaking.

“Coin for you to use in Houllebec for necessities.”

I blinked again and turned my body to keep facing him as he moved then he stopped at the door and turned to me.

“When I decide it’s time, I shall find a woman who looks somewhat like you, if that is possible, and sire a child on her. We will present this child to your father as his heir.”

Uh… what?

“What?” I whispered and his hard face got harder at my quiet, one word question.

“I’ll not thrust my cock between the legs of a woman who prefers a woman’s mouth there, Sjofn.”

Uh… what?

“What?” I breathed this time, knowing my eyes had grown wide.

He jerked his chin. “You were drunk and may not remember our discussion but I bloody well do.”

Oh God. Oh shit. Oh God.

Now I knew why Sjofn played me.

She was a lesbian and wanted nothing to do with a man who was more man than any man maybe on two worlds!

Oh shit! Oh God! Oh shit!

“Uh –” I started not having that first clue what to say.

“Maybe,” he cut me off, “as further recompense for this ridiculous, bloody, gods damned farce your father talked me into and, for some gods damned reason, I agreed to, I’ll watch you at play with a woman.”

Oh God! Oh Shit! OhGodohshitohGod!

He went on. “The gods know, a trunk of Sjofn ice diamonds and a trunk of gold is not worth being saddled with the bloody likes of you as wife for a lifetime. I might as well get what I can out of it and watching a woman take you would be…” his eyes swept me before he finished, “interesting.”

OhshitohGodohshit.

“Uh –” I mumbled.

He cut me off again saying, “I’ll be back in a month,” I blinked as my body locked in shock at his words and he walked out the door, starting to close it behind him then he stopped and his eyes locked on mine, “maybe two.”

Then he was gone.

I stared at the door unseeing. Then, slowly, I looked around the filthy house which was only slightly less cold than the outside and nowhere near as grand as the place I’d started this adventure.

Then it hit me he said he’d be back in a month… or two.

He was leaving me here.

Leaving me here!

I came unstuck with a jolt and ran to the door.

Throwing it open I saw my sleigh, my horses and no Dragon.

I glared into the brightening sky.

Then I shouted at the top of my lungs, “God damn it!”

My horses danced slightly in agitation.

I stood in the cold, glaring at the thick but beautifully frosted forest all around thinking I had not handled that situation, or him, very well.

Then I stomped back into the house.

* * * * *

I was cold, exhausted and hungry but I was also Seoafin Wilde and I’d been in some serious pickles in my life and I’d always managed to survive.

It must be said, sharks crashing a sea dive and elephants stampeding were a lot more serious than a dirty house in the middle of a frozen nowhere. And Claudia hadn’t even mentioned that time the natives got seriously restless.

So I was Seoafin Wilde and nothing ever got me down.

The good news was, I was a lesbian and therefore my husband wanted nothing to do with me.

The bad news was, I was a lesbian and my husband thought he could watch me “at play” with a woman.

The good news was, he was gone, apparently for awhile, so I had time to figure out what to do about that.

The bad news was, I was in the middle of a frost-filled forest. I was cold, exhausted and hungry and I had four horses as well as myself to take care of.

So, since I really had no choice, I took care of the lot of us.

Prioritizing, I had to get changed. Many people wouldn’t think this was priority but, seriously, that dress rocked and it wouldn’t do for it to get dusty or torn.

So I went out to the sleigh, told my horses I’d get them warm and fed as soon as possible, they whinnied like they knew what I was talking about and I unhooked the silken ropes that held down the also silk tarp and threw it aside.

Eight huge trunks were in the back of the sleigh, four smaller ones.

I started with the smaller ones because I could carry them, lugging them in one by one and opening them. Quick glances told me there was nothing I could use in the present. So out I went to pull off the first trunk which was so huge and heavy, I had to drag it down off the sleigh, it thudded against the snow, then I dragged it into the house.

I opened it.

Sheets and blankets.

Shit.

Back out I went and I got the second trunk in.

On top of some folded, soft, knit woolen gowns, I saw a note. I picked it up and read it.

Princess Sjofn,

We’re so sorry. Your mother supervised your packing. We had to pack only your trousseau. We couldn’t pack any of your breeches or the shirts and boots you like.

But all of this is lovely and we hope you enjoy it.

Write to us and tell us how you’re getting along.

We will miss you.

Alyssa, Esther, Jocelyn and Bess

Well, apparently, Sjofn of this world dressed like a boy.

Perhaps not a surprise.

I had to admit, even though I (mostly) avoided dressing like a boy (unless I was caving or the like) I could use some breeches or whatever at the present time but if a dress was all I had, a dress was what I would use. I sorted through them, finding the least fine but warmest looking one as well as a light wool cloak at the bottom of the trunk and changed (with some difficulty for it was buttoned down the back) out of my wedding gown.

Seeing my underwear at its fullest, I was right, it was awesome, the bustier was hot as all hell, my breasts nearly spilling out of it. It was so damned sexy, as crazy as such a thought was, I couldn’t help but think my stupid new husband who didn’t wait around to get an eyeful of that was a moron. But I didn’t look long because it was fucking cold and I needed to get dressed.

So I got dressed then I got busy.

I started fires in the two grates in the living room. Luckily, there were dry logs stacked at the sides as well as kindling and they even had matches that were made of very long, slim pieces of wood that I had to drag across the stone of the hearths but they made starting a fire a snap.

Then out to the sleigh I went to drag in all the trunks. Then back out to stamp through the snow to the biggest outbuilding. Upon entry, I found it was what I thought it was, a six stall stable, cleaner than the house by far (my husband was clearly not only scary but also a dick, cleaning the stable but keeping the house in such a state) and there was a barrel full of fresh water, plenty of oats and hay. With effort, I threw open the huge sliding door, stamped back through the snow, got in the sleigh and led them inside the stable. I closed the door and went to work. It took for-freaking-ever to figure out how to unhook the horses and get their apparatus off them. But I damn well did it, led them to their stalls, fed and watered them. I hung the apparatus up on hooks outside each stall and then I stamped back to the house.

Once inside, I fed the fires more wood then took inventory.

The kitchen was rudimentary: big, old battered wooden table with two chairs, big used butcher block in the middle, big, black iron stove, wooden sink with (thank God) a pump that, upon testing, worked and pumped clear, clean water. Cupboards, as my dickhead husband said, were not bare but most of the shit at first glance I didn’t know what it was.

I decided I’d spend more time on that later.

There were also other supplies stuffed in the plethora of cabinets: dishes, cups, silverware, wooden spoons and a stack of wooden bowls and other accoutrements to use for cooking, cast iron pots and skillets, candlestick holders and gas lamps with a few lanterns thrown in.

Using the stack of wood in the kitchen, I built another fire in the stove then out the backdoor I went. There was an enclosed porch type area that ran the length of the house, one whole side lined with stacks of logs so high, they went up to my neck. There were a couple of cupboards too, one I opened was filled with tall candles of all widths. Another one was filled with plugged jugs of what a sniff test told me was some kind of fuel. Probably for the lamps.

Okay, good. I had heat and light and, by the looks of it, a lot of it.

I stamped out the backdoor to the two, remaining out buildings.

One, to my gloom, was an outhouse.

The other, far larger, was a shed that was also filled with split, prepared logs, a shitload of kindling and another cupboard filled with fuel. There was also a hatchet, an axe, several buckets and other bits and bobs.

Back to the house I went, I opened a door off the living room and entered a room that had a table with a ceramic basin on it, a pitcher under it, an oval mirror on the wall over it and a drum like thing in the middle of the space, this one made of some kind of metal. It was oval and I suspected it was a tub. There was also a small fireplace in there.

Well, bath time wasn’t going to be relaxing. But at least there was a bath.

Back out to the living room where I wandered the place, noting there were lots of rugs on the floor, not thick, but they covered the wood planks so the cold wouldn’t seep up. As I wandered, I carefully pulled off the sheets covering the furniture, bunching them quickly while doing it so I captured as much of the dust as possible.

Now we were talking. Finally, something decent.

A big, fluffy couch and two deep-seated fluffy chairs with ottomans, all turned to the biggest fireplace. A sturdy desk with chair behind it in a corner. Handsome tables here and there as well as some tall candleholders. It was all rustic, hunting-cabin chic but it looked well-made and definitely comfortable… if cleaned.

I then climbed the ladder and, moving around the loft stooped, which was the only way I could for the ceiling was so low, I saw it had three windows (two either side of the small, stone fireplace that had an iron grate at the front to catch sparks) and one at the side facing the back, all grimy, all with heavy, short curtains. It also had a fluffy, down mattress on the floor covered with a sheet I yanked off and I saw it also had four fluffy down pillows. Last, it had a heavy curtain that ran on a rail the length of the space in front of a short railing, likely to ward off the chill from the bigger space and keep in the heat from the fire.

Bent double, I stared at the bed. Then I thought of crawling into it. Then I wondered about the light, how long the days were here and how I would most assuredly not want to pass out, sleep the day away and be in this loft in this stinking house in the dark without having at least set up the candles and probably be, by that time, ravenous instead of what I was right then, starving.

Not to mention, I had two open fires burning downstairs.

I sucked in breath.

Then I muttered, “I’m never telling Claudia any of this.”

Then I went to the ladder and down to see if I could unearth any cleaning supplies.

* * * * *

There were, indeed, cleaning supplies in the back of a cupboard in the kitchen (if one could call them that, but there was soap, what I took as parallel universe dish towels and rags which weren’t much different from each other but the towels were slightly finer material and definitely cleaner and I found a broom and mop on the back porch).

Therefore, hours and hours and hours later, the sun had long since set (way early if I estimated it right) and I was done.

The floors were swept (and, proudly, mopped). The cupboards wiped down. The rugs and furniture cushions taken outside and beaten with this kind of enormous bent twig fly-swatter thing I found in the shed. All the dishes, pots and pans were cleaned, the cupboards (and the dead insects hiding there) wiped out and dishes, pots and pans put back. The cobwebs were swiped down, the surfaces of the furniture polished. The windows were washed to a shine so I could actually see out. The curtains carefully taken down, pulled outside and shook to within an inch of their lives. The same with the pillows on the bed upstairs.

I put out candleholders and filled them with candles. I filled lamps with fuel and put those out too. I dragged in a bunch of wood and replenished all the stocks and even found this cool pulley thing which helped me load up a stack in the loft (which I did and then I built a fire up there too).

I found a hunk of meat, a loaf of bread and an enormous wedge of cheese. I sliced into all of it, made a huge, honking sandwich and ate it, washing it down with a cup of the fresh, clean, absolutely delicious and very cold water from the pump.

I inventoried the kitchen and found milk in a jug in a cupboard that jutted out of the house (natural fridge) with lots of cheese, meat (some cooked, some raw), some sliceable sausage (that smelled awesome), a slab of bacon, a bowl filled with eggs and a big urn of butter. In the cupboards there were pots of jam. There was also a jar of ground coffee (hurray!) and what looked like an old-fashioned percolator to make it in. There was loose tea. There was sugar. There was flour. There was a salt pig (filled) and a pepper grinder (also filled). There were jars of spices which I made stabs at guessing what they were with sniff tests (oregano, basil, bay leaves, thyme, parsley, cayenne, cinnamon and nutmeg). And there were big sacks of potatoes and onions, smaller ones of oats and rice and a string of garlic.

I could totally work with this.

I was set.

At least for awhile.

I set about perusing my trunks and found clothes, underwear, boots, delicate wool and cashmere stockings, shoes and cloaks all a variety of fabrics and colors, all gorgeous, all obviously expensive and exquisitely made and not meant to be worn in a cabin in the middle of nowhere but… whatever. I also found some seriously sexy nightgowns (again, my new husband was a moron, the nightwear, as well as every single piece of underwear, was freaking amazing).

I found sheets (lots of them), quilts, throws and blankets (lots of those too) so I made up the bed. I also found some china and silver, including an elegant, stunning coffee service, these I put in the kitchen. There were also what I guessed were towels and washcloths which I stacked on some shelves I wiped down in the bathroom type place.

There was hair stuff, jewelry and makeup, bath soap, scented powders, perfume and lotions. This entire small (ish) trunk I also carted into the bathroom type place.

There was another trunk filled with leather-bound books, some printed, some blank (journals?), elegant, ice blue writing paper and envelopes, a wax candle and an elaborate, silver seal to use to close the wax on the envelopes (awesome!), a slim, silver quill pen and a couple bottles of ink. I stocked the desk with these.

And there was even a trunk filled with crystal: wineglasses of three shapes (white, red and flat bowled champagne, two of each), stemmed aperitif glasses (also two) and, overkill but definitely awesome, a beautiful crystal vase and I knew the perfect use for that. I went out to the sleigh, fetched my bouquet of twigs from the floor where it had fallen (as well as my forgotten crown, though how I could forget my crown, who knew, but I did), took them back to the house, shoved the twigs in the vase and put it on the low table in front of the couch.

It looked good there. A touch of glitter, a touch of beauty. Perfect.

The crown I set smack in the middle of the mantel of the biggest fireplace, the one the furniture faced.

It looked good where it was too. But it would look good anywhere.

All that I couldn’t use or needed to be stored, I carefully packed back up and then lined the trunks where they would look nice against the walls. Any empty trunks, I carted to the front door so I could drag them to the stables tomorrow.

I had just loaded all the fires with more logs, lit the candles and lamps and found some folded screens on the back porch that were meant to sit in front of the fires to catch sparks so I set them up and I was currently flat out on the couch, exhausted, hungry again and trying to count how many times I boiled water in that big, iron kettle on the stove when I realized there I was.

Alone, in the middle of nowhere and far away from my parents who I had spent a million dollars to see and who, after seeing, didn’t like me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, staring into the fire.

Well, at least that dickhead didn’t beat me, which, dumping a princess in this hellhole without even seeing to her animals, I knew he meant to do.

My horses were sheltered and fed. The house was cleaned. I was hungry again but I was not eating not because I couldn’t feed myself but because I was too freaking exhausted to get up and go to the kitchen. I’d taken stock and I was sitting pretty (ish). The house was warm, the fires, lanterns and candles glowed and the couch was seriously freaking comfy.

So I grabbed a soft, woolen throw I’d unearthed from one of my trunks and tossed on the couch and I pulled it over my body. Then I held my feet out in front of me and used my toes on the heel of my boot, pushing down, down, down until the thing slid off. Ditto the other boot.

Then I curled up and stared into the fire.

Then I pulled in a deep breath.

Then I grinned.

“Welp,” I whispered, “one could say this is an adventure. Definitely.”

Then I fell into a dead sleep smiling.

* * * * *

The two dark figures shifted soundlessly through the snow toward the cabin. Once there, they stopped at a window and looked inside.

At what he saw, Frey Drakkar did a slow blink and just stopped himself from muttering an expletive.

In eight short hours, the Winter Princess had transformed his cabin. The bloody thing even had a crystal vase filled with her wedding bundle on a table. The fires were burning strong, every inch looked clean, there was a warm rug tossed over one of the chairs and… he shifted to another window for a different view, Thaddeus following him… she was sleeping peacefully with an appealing grin on her unduly beautiful face, her abundance of white-blonde hair scattered over the arm of the couch, her delectable body covered in another warm throw.

He shifted his gaze from her to the vase on the table and something about that made his neck get tight as it had done several times since her small hand wrapped around his fist in the Dwelling of the Gods.

Princess Sjofn was not known to enjoy pretty things. Princess Sjofn would throw such a bundle out. Definitely her wedding bundle of adela tree twigs, regardless of how precious they were. Princess Sjofn would not stuff them in a sparkling, crystal vase and put them on display.

And Princess Sjofn had not once on the three unpleasant occasions he’d spent time with her smiled at him. Or joked with him. Or shown her ample and unfortunately spectacular cleavage. He didn’t know she had that in her or that she could even wear a dress without looking like her garments were boiled tar poured on her skin.

At the very least not wear them without looking like she was sucking lemons but wear them with grace and float down the aisle toward him with the bearing of her mother, a woman renowned throughout Lunwyn, hell, all of the Northlands, for her refined manner.

He’s so into it, we could probably go sit down or even go out, get a beer and come back and he’d still be at it.

He heard her teasing words and saw her smiling face and he suspected the Winter Princess was up to something.

Something was not right.

He just had no idea what. What he did know was that whatever that woman was up to, he had no intention of falling prey to it.

Her father was king, regardless of the fact that his blood didn’t merit the throne. And King Atticus had offered an immensely handsome dowry. The pull of both, Frey refused for three years.

But King Atticus was anxious for a son so the kingdom would be secure, going to Sjofn’s boy rather than King Atticus’s brother, Baldur, who ruled Middleland, the country to the south. Baldur was a known tyrant and a twat, even Atticus detested him, everyone did.

This last, more than the trunks of Sjofn ice diamonds, gold and the land Atticus had settled on him for strapping him with his man-woman daughter was the reason why Frey had finally agreed.

There was not anything Frey would not do for Lunwyn, including marrying a guenipe even though he was urged strongly not to do so by powers he should likely not ignore.

It was that and the fact that the blood of Drakkar would sit the throne.

His son would be king. And Frey wouldn’t have to wage war to dethrone Baldur or Baldur’s own woman-man son should one of them succeed Atticus. Not to mention, Frey wouldn’t have to settle his own seat on Lunwyn’s throne after he defeated Baldur.

That would be a pain in the arse. Absolutely.

Thaddeus whistled his surprise through his teeth at the sights he beheld taking Frey out of his thoughts.

Frey ground his.

Then he moved away from the cabin, soundless through the wood to where they had left their horses and Thaddeus followed.

Without a word, they swung into their saddles but Frey didn’t ride. He sat on his mount, Tyr, staring at his cabin, smoke serenely drifting from four chimneys, a golden, cheerful glow shining from the windows, his bloody wife asleep and dreaming of gods knew what.

Frey glared at the house feeling something unsettling then he looked at the windows.

They were opened, the curtains not closed to shut out the cold.

His brows drew together.

The woman had it in her to clean and build fires; this was a surprise and an annoying one. But Sjofn, Winter Princess, who had every whim catered to but who clearly demonstrated she had the wherewithal to fend for herself, would therefore definitely draw the curtains to ward off the cold. Even if she had been reclining, defeated, in his filthy hunting cabin, being Lunwynian, she would know to close the curtains to shut out the cold.

Thaddeus spoke, taking Frey from these thoughts.

“I must say, Frey, I wouldn’t give a gods damn that one preferred tart. That was my new bride, she’d be tasting my cock either straight through her mouth or because I was thrusting it so deep, she’d savor it in her throat,” Thaddeus remarked quietly at his side.

“Mm,” Frey murmured.

Frey felt his friend’s eyes. “You don’t agree?”

“I’ve no idea where that mouth has been. Or that cunt,” Frey replied.

“Must say, speaking true, I wouldn’t care about that either,” Thaddeus returned.

Frey thought of her hair all over the armrest, her smile, her cleavage.

Then he thought of her fervent return of his kiss after they were wed, a return that made his blood heat and his cock begin to get hard as her tongue played hungrily with his and her arms glided around his neck, holding him tight. It wasn’t a passable kiss. It wasn’t even good.

What it was, was the best embrace by far he’d ever shared.

Something else that did not sit right for that was something else that was not Princess Sjofn.

He’d been infuriated at her drunken admission years ago when King Atticus had started his campaign to win Frey Drakkar as his son-in-law. He’d been infuriated because she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he wanted her the instant he saw her even, maybe especially because she was wearing breeches.

His new wife had a spectacular arse and even better legs.

Then he found out what she was.

Frey had no issue with guenipes.

But he wanted no wife who did not want him, no matter her beauty.

But, after that kiss, after she’d demonstrated how very well she could pretend, Frey had to admit, Thaddeus’s words held merit.

“The ship awaits, Thad,” Frey muttered, putting an end to their short conversation.

“Indeed, Frey,” Thad muttered back.

They turned their horses, touched heels to flanks and they were away.