Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams (67 page)

“Do you think…” Lavinia of Lunwyn started,
my eyes moved to her and I swallowed the ham with effort before she
finished, “that you can hear what is happening?”

To this, I replied, “Considering my husband
is dead and that hits the one to ten scale of bad news you could
give me at around five hundred and seventy-two, how bad is the rest
of the news?”

“It is bad, not as bad as that,” Lavinia
replied.

Nope. Not as bad as that. Outside of the
world coming to an end, there was no news worse than that or even
close.

I sucked in breath through my nose and
nodded, saying, “Well then, hit me with it.”

She nodded back then she and Valentine
exchanged a glance and both settled on the pallet on either side of
me.

“You have been under a sleeping spell for
four days,” Lavinia stated, I nodded, she took in breath and
continued. “I was captured and imprisoned here a week ago. You and
Valentine arrived yesterday and when you did, Valentine was bound
but awake.”

I finished the last piece of ham, set the
plate aside, took another drink of water and said, “Okay.”

“We are…” she hesitated, looked to Valentine
then back at me, “we are both bound still, though we bear no
straps. Wherever we are has a powerful spell over it. Neither of us
have command of our magic. It is not gone, we both still feel it,
we just cannot command it.”

My eyes slid away and I whispered,
“Great.”

“This is why, I am certain, they have
brought me here for I would not stand for what is happening to my
Lunwyn,” Lavinia told me and I nodded.

Valentine took it from there. “We both can,
however, sense things. This is how we know…” she trailed off and I
jerked my chin up so she wouldn’t continue.

I didn’t want to hear the words again. I got
her. This was how they knew Frey was gone.

Lavinia spoke next. “We also know more, or I
do. Valentine senses things but as she is not of this world most of
what she senses, she doesn’t understand.”

“
And what more do you know?” I asked but I
didn’t really care. I wanted to know about my girls and Frey’s men.
I wanted to know about Aurora and Atticus. I wanted to know about
Skylar. And I wanted to have some time to lick my wounds and then
figure out how to get the fuck out of there, out of this world and
home, home,
home.

“The adela trees burn,” Lavinia whispered,
all these thoughts flew from my head and I felt my mouth drop open
as I felt my heart squeeze.

Then I whispered back, horrified, “No.”

She nodded, her eyes growing bright. “They
do. The trees burn, our glorious, glowing adelas which is bad
enough but this means the elves cannot rise.”

I closed my eyes and turned my head
away.

The elves could not rise.

And they had no Frey.

I had no Frey.

If I lived to deliver him or her, my son or
daughter would have no Frey.

I looked back at Lavinia and said with
feeling, “That sucks.”

Her head tipped to the side. “Sucks?”

“Sucks, stinks… it’s awful,” I lifted a hand
and rudely, I had to admit, circled it at her to get on with it but
I didn’t have it in me to be polite. “What else?”

“Aurora is taken,” Lavinia said gently and I
sucked in breath.

Then I let it out on a hissed, “Shit.”

“She lives and she is held captive, like us.
Not here but far away, I cannot sense where. But… I am sorry, my
princess, I do not sense your father.”

I closed my eyes tight and turned my head
again as the hitch in my throat tore out in a wrenching sob. Then,
I forced out on a stammer, not looking at her, “He’s… he’s… is he
dead?”

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

I lifted a hand to my mouth and curled my
fingers around.

I’d lost him again. Again.

Fucking hell once was bad enough.

Tears forced themselves out of my eyes and
slid down my face as I fought for control but my chest heaved with
the effort and my throat burned so much I thought it would
disintegrate. It took awhile and a lot out of me but I pulled my
shit together, wiped my face with my hand and looked back at
Lavinia.

“What else? My girls? Frey’s men?”

She shook her head but when she saw my face
and understood I misread her, she said quickly, “I do not know. I
have not met them and therefore I cannot sense them. I can only
sense those I’ve met or people of prominence, like your husband.
I’m sorry; I have no news of them.”

I looked to Valentine. “You?”

“I was in their presence, my Seoafin, but
I’m sorry, not long enough to know their auras and be able to feel
them,” she answered.

“All righty,” I whispered, sucked in another
breath then looked between them both. “Do you know anything else?
Who’s doing this?”

I asked this as a key scraped the lock, all
three of us looked to the door then it was thrown open and I
couldn’t believe my eyes or stop my mouth from dropping open when I
saw Broderick saunter in followed by his lover Phobin.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But it was. He was right there and he wasn’t
entering to be imprisoned.

Broderick took one look at me, his face grew
hard, my heart started pumping and he turned on his lover.

“What is the matter with you?” he snapped.
“She is of my blood, she is princess and she sits in filth?”

“She is prisoner,” Phobin retorted
coldly.

“
She is
princess,
” Broderick shot back then turned to address the
two guards that entered with them and stood at the door. “Take the
Winter Princess to my quarters. Find women to draw her a bath, find
her a decent gown and bring her proper food.”

“You cannot do that, Broderick,” Phobin
stated and Broderick turned on him.

“
I cannot? I’m sorry; I thought it
was
me
who just
became king of
two
lands. Did I
miss something? Was it you?”

“I’ve told you. She is of the elf, the witch
said so,” Phobin clipped. “We cannot take the chance she holds any
magic and escapes.”

“She is my cousin and she is princess and
she will not sit in filth,” Broderick returned and Phobin’s face
went hard and his eyes grew so furious and so cruel not only I
shrunk back but so did Lavinia and Valentine.

Then, he strangely whispered, “Come to heel,
Broderick.”

Broderick head twitched, his face going
blank for a moment before his eyes flashed, he glared at Phobin and
stated firmly, “A king does not heel, Phobin.”

Phobin got closer, his voice got lower and
he repeated, “Come to heel.”

Broderick smiled then and, speaking
softly, returned, “You fool. Did you honestly think our play in bed
translated to my rule of a vast kingdom?” Broderick got closer too
and his voice got softer but not so soft we couldn’t hear. “Yes, my
lover, I will beg to suck your cock and I will beg you to do other
things with it but outside our bed, Phobin, hear this and know
it,
I
rule and
you
come to heel or I’ll find a lover who will play
like I like in bed
and
know his
place out of it.”

Phobin’s stunned face had paled but
Broderick ignored it and the three of us on the pallet, turned and
walked to the guards, stopping in front of them.

Then he ordered, “Take my cousin to my
chambers, she is princess and treated as such. Keep guards at the
door and for the gods’ sakes, give these witches some decent
blankets, palatable food, wine and water to wash up with. I do not
reign like my father, learn that now and part of what you need to
learn is that this treatment of women is unacceptable.”

Then he swept through the guards, leaving
the cell and leaving behind a still shocked and immobile
Phobin.

Then we heard from the hall, “Phobin! Come!”
Phobin’s body jerked, he looked confused for a moment then he
rushed out of the cell.

“Come!” one of the guards grunted at me and
my eyes shot to him.

“Go, Seoafin,” Valentine whispered. “We’ll
be all right.”

“Come!” the guard grunted again, starting to
move forward.

I quickly glanced at Lavinia who smiled
reassuringly at me then Valentine, who did the same and I set the
cup I still held aside and started to get to my feet.

Then I turned to Valentine and Lavinia and
whispered, “I’ll be back.”

Then I gained my feet, straightened my
shoulders, tossed my hair, nodded regally to the guard and swept
out of the room.

* * * * *

I tortured myself.

Throughout my bath, throughout the two
silent women assisting me to strap on my underwear, pull the soft,
woolen gown over my head, my boots up my calves and doing my hair,
throughout my solitary meal and after, as I was alone in the
luxuriously appointed but chilly rooms, I tortured myself.

I tortured myself with memories of the first
time I saw my huge, frightening husband at our wedding.

And the first time he kissed me.

I tortured myself with memories of him
throwing a dead dear on the kitchen table, pulling me in his lap
and telling me I fit there and bathing with him in a hot
spring.

And the first time we made out in bed
together and how gentle he was with me.

I was wrong in my anger. He had been my
gentle Frey before he knew me
.

I tortured myself with that too, that I had
forgotten and all I said to him prior to his death.

Then, when I could bear those particular
thoughts no longer, I tortured myself with memories of playing
cards with Frey’s men. Of Father’s proud cry the first time he saw
me get a bulls-eye and his tight hug the second time he saw me do
it. Of Skylar sitting at a desk, any desk, all of the desks he sat
at, his tongue poking out in his concentration, looking so cute and
boyish. Of my girls’ giggles and gossip and gentle care and how
they took me in without reservation. Of Mother’s dry wit and small
smiles and eyes that told you how she felt about you in a way you
would always believe and never forget.

I tortured myself with memories of a ship
called
The
Finnie
and all that had
happened aboard her.

I tortured myself with memories of strong
hands guiding me on a dance floor while I wore a blood red dress at
a ball.

I tortured myself with memories of touches,
tastes and words whispered in my ear.

I tortured myself with every memory I could
pull up of the best by far, the most beautiful by a landslide, the
most perfect adventure I’d ever had and I turned each in my head, I
burned them in my brain and as I did it, as the seconds slid to
minutes, minutes to hours and the guard remained outside and I
remained alone in the prince’s room, I prepared.

So when the door opened, I was ready.

I was ready to do what I had to do for
Frey, for Atticus, for Aurora and for Lunwyn which was
rightfully
mine
to give to
the child I carried. Frey’s child. The Drakkar’s child. The elves’
child. My child.

Lunwyn’s child.

And by my God
and
my husband’s gods, I was fucking going to do
it.

So, prepared, I watched Broderick walk in
and I schooled my face not to show a reaction when his eyes fell
gentle on me and his lover trotted in obediently at his heels.

The guard closed the door and Broderick
continued to approach as I sat in my chair, unmoving, my hands
hidden in the folds of my skirt and I watched.

“You look better, Sjofn,” he said
softly.

“You killed my husband,” I replied and
watched with morbid fascination as he winced.

Then he whispered, “Sjofn.”

“You killed my husband,” I repeated, holding
his eyes.

He stopped in front of me and looked down at
me. “I’m sorry I needed to do that.”

“
Can you tell me
why
you needed to do that?” I asked, my voice bland,
flat.

It was Phobin who answered with an
incredulous, “Why?”

My eyes didn’t leave Broderick as he turned
to his lover and hissed, “Quiet,” then turned back to me and his
voice was gentle when he explained, “Sjofn, I could see you were
taken with him and he you but he’s The Drakkar, The Frey, he
commands the fire of dragons and the magic of elves and he let it
be known very openly that he would not hesitate to call his beasts
in defense of you.” His voice became even gentler when he finished,
“I am sorry, my cousin, but he was too powerful to let live.”

“You didn’t believe that then,” I stated and
he blinked.

“I’m sorry?” he enquired.

In what I hoped was a good impersonation of
Aurora, I regally inclined my chin to indicate Phobin and declared,
“It was his idea. When we met in Middleland, you were pleased for
me.”

“I was,” he whispered, watching me
closely.

“So, tell me, why did you kill my husband?”
I asked and he pulled in a light breath.

“Sjofn –” he started but I interrupted him
with a wave of my hand.

“It matters not now, Broderick, he is dead.
And my father is dead, I assume?” I waited for his careful nod, I
took the hit of confirmation of this news and the further hit it
took forcing myself not to react and I went on. “But you had
different ideas back then, am I wrong?”

“Sjofn, I don’t think –” he began but I
interrupted yet again.

And I did this with a soft, “You owe this to
me.”

Broderick held my eyes. Then he nodded.

“I thought…” he started then concluded,
“exile.”

“And why didn’t you follow through with this
thought?” I pressed. “Was it him?” and again I lifted my chin to
Phobin.