Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams (53 page)

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.”