Wildest Dreams f-1

by Kristen Ashley

  Oh God. If that was true, Sjofn totally left a lot out of her note. A lot.

  “Fin –” he started but that was when I lost it.

  And I lost it by throwing down the pillow and shrieking, “What did I do to make enemies who would come at me with knives?”

  I barely got out the last word when Frey moved, his arm darting out, fingers wrapping around my wrist, he yanked me so I fell forward then he shifted, whipping an arm around my waist and one down my legs to haul them out in front of me, my bottom swung out, I landed in his lap and his arms were around me before I could even twitch.

  I twisted to face him, my head tipping back and I whispered, “Frey, I –”

  “You have been sharing my bed for five nights now, that’s what you’ve been doing, my Winter Princess,” Frey finished for me and I blinked up at him. “And your uncle and, perhaps, spies from dozens of different Houses would know this.”

  I blinked again and whispered with confusion, “My uncle?”

  “As far as he knows, and now I know he is watching, though he nor any of the others have approached the cabin, I would know this but even if they have, they cannot see through walls, but as far as they know what we’ve been doing in this bed could conceive a child. And he, nor any of them, wishes us to conceive a child. I was afraid someone would attempt something like this and if it is as I suspect and it is your uncle who has done this then he has, as usual, made his play and shown his hand without delay.”

  I stared at Frey.

  Then it hit me.

  My Uncle Baldur, who stood to inherit Lunwyn upon my father’s death, wanted me dead before I could birth a child to succeed the throne.

  Oh my God.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “I see you have some understanding of this,” Frey muttered and I focused on his face to see his eyes alert and very focused on mine.

  “He’s not a good man,” I guessed.

  “No, Finnie, you speak kind but you do not speak true. He is instead the worst type of man, no honor, filled with greed; he is selfish, grasping, avaricious and underhanded.”

  Sjofn had written, My uncle is not like my father or grandfather and it is imperative that our beautiful land not pass into his hands…

  I turned my face away and whispered, “Oh my God.”

  “Look at me, my wee one,” Frey demanded gently and my eyes returned to his. “Those were assassins. Not good ones. It is my guess your uncle wishes you dead and tonight he declared his intent to see to that. Even if it is not him, obviously, someone else wishes this so.”

  “Oh God.” I was still whispering and I was again trembling, it was again violently and, try as I might, (and I was trying) I couldn’t seem to stop it.

  Frey gathered me closer and when he’d achieved that, he held on tight.

  “Listen to me, Finnie, concentrate on me,” he urged and I nodded, staring in his eyes as he kept holding me tight. “I will not allow you to be harmed, my men won’t and your father’s men won’t.” His arms gave me a tight squeeze. “You will not be harmed, love. I’ll not allow it. If it is your uncle, I don’t know why he announced his intentions in this way for those men were not skilled. But I will find out and we will deal with this, your father and I. In the meantime, you will never be harmed; you will not even be touched. I promise you that.” I kept staring at him and said nothing so he whispered, “Do you believe me?”

  “I’ve never seen a man die, Frey,” I whispered back and he closed his eyes.

  Then he opened them and said softly, “Yes you have, Finnie. Remember when our engagement was announced? An attempt was made on your life then. You dispatched the assassin yourself at the steps of your Winter Palace.” His arms gave me a squeeze. “Remember?”

  I stared into his green-brown eyes, stunned at this news, news Sjofn should have shared with me, all of this news Sjofn should have totally fucking shared with me way the fuck before we even made our deal but even as this freaked me out, scared me to death and pissed me right the fuck off, I found it in myself to answer quietly, “Oh yeah, right. It was… unpleasant so I blocked it out.”

  He nodded before saying, “Because of that, my wee one, I’m sorry you saw that tonight. If it were to happen again, my men and I will do our best to shield you from seeing it so you experience no further…” his eyes held mine before he finished, “unpleasantness.”

  “That would be good,” I replied softly.

  His lips tipped up slightly before they moved in to kiss my forehead.

  When he moved back, I asked, “Is that how you knew this was going to happen, I mean, if an attempt was made before?”

  He shook his head but said, “I do not know how your uncle’s mind works and do not wish to know. What I do know is that I would not put anything passed him. Though, that said, I will admit to being surprised if he has made this decision or anyone has done so if it is not Baldur. When the last assassin was dispatched, an assassin neither my men nor your father’s could successfully trace back to your uncle, or anyone, your uncle declared outrage at this action and we had to pretend we believed his indignation on behalf of his niece. But both your father and I publicly promised retribution should another attempt be made and we both vowed to ride in war against anyone if their motives were political should they actually succeed.”

  I felt my body tense and I breathed, “Succeed?”

  His arms gave me a squeeze. “This will not happen, Finnie.”

  “But, what if it –”

  Another squeeze then, “It will not happen, my love.”

  “I know, but what if –”

  His face dipped close to mine and his voice was quiet but low and fierce when he said, “It will not for you will never be far from my side. It is a measure of a man, my wife, how he cheats in cards. And it is a measure of a man, any man, be he married to a pub wench or a princess, how he cares for his bride. I am a Drakkar, my measure is different than any man’s and there are many facets to that but one of them explains why I turn away without a thought from those whose lifeblood seeps into the snow, those who moved with intent to harm my bride and I won’t think of them, ever. I will only turn my mind to how I can best care for my bride and that now includes undermining any threat that may loom for you and I vow to you, my princess, if it means my own life, this will not happen.”

  I stared into his eyes. Then I whispered, “Okay,” because really, what else could I do? He sounded pretty freaking serious.

  His eyes shifted from serious to soft and then they smiled.

  Then he repeated, “Okay.”

  I sucked in an unsteady breath.

  Then I said, “Though, um… just to say, if you’re going to vow to keep me safe I’d kinda like you to vow to keep you safe too.” His soft eyes started to warm and I rushed on, “You know, because… well, who’ll chop the wood and lug it into the house if you’re assassinated or something?”

  The soft warmth of his eyes took on another smile and he muttered, “My wife does not like carrying wood.”

  “It isn’t my favorite chore,” I admitted. “My time is better spent baking pies.”

  The smile reached his mouth before he murmured, “Then I best stay around to do it.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  He moved his head and brushed his nose against mine.

  Then he whispered, “Then I’ll vow to keep me safe too…” he paused, “so I can be around to chop wood.”

  “And lug it in the house,” I added.

  “And lug it in the house,” he agreed.

  I stared into his eyes, so beautiful, so close and felt his arms, so strong, so tight, and felt his body, so big, so powerful, all of it making me feel so… very… safe and the trembling stopped.

  Then I slid my face to the side and tucked it in his neck as I slid my arms around his body and held on tight.

  I felt Frey tip his head so his lips where at my ear when he asked, “Are you all right now, my wee Finnie?”

  “No, no
t really but give me a minute and I’ll get there.”

  He kissed my neck.

  That made me feel better.

  Then he held me and I held on until I felt totally better. Or, at least, better enough to change into my nightgown.

  Then I whispered, “I’m good now Frey. I need to go change for bed.”

  “All right, Finnie,” he agreed, his arms loosening, “hurry.”

  I pulled away, looked at him, gave him a small smile then leaned in to give him a quick lip touch.

  Then I moved away and hurried.

  I was back in bed, held tight to my husband’s side, cradling his thigh in less than five minutes.

  It took me a lot longer to find sleep.

  But eventually I did it.

  * * * * *

  “Frey?” I called.

  “I’m here,” he whispered, his arm around my back giving me a squeeze, “you’re trembling again, wife.”

  “Bad dream.”

  He rolled into me and both his strong arms went around me.

  “Hold on,” he ordered gently and my arm already around him tightened.

  He held me and I tried to find sleep.

  I couldn’t so I called, “Frey?”

  “I’m here.”

  I hesitated.

  Then I said so quietly, I wondered if he heard me, “You were so good at it.”

  He heard me, his arms got tighter but he said nothing.

  “You’ve had lots of practice, haven’t you?” I asked.

  “Sleep, wife,” he said on a squeeze.

  Yep, he had lots of practice killing people.

  Ho boy.

  “Just tell me one thing,” I said softly. “Were they bad guys?”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment then I heard his head shift on the pillow and with his lips against the top of my hair, he whispered, “Most of them.”

  Oh God.

  “No enemy is all bad, Finnie,” he told me gently. “They’re just the enemy.”

  I nodded my head on the pillow for this was undoubtedly true.

  Frey kept talking. “But the men tonight were paid to kill a newlywed man and his wife,” his arms gave me a squeeze, “I lose no sleep for them and you shouldn’t either.”

  “But you were awake,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, I was, because my wee wife trembles against me in her sleep,” he informed me.

  God, that was sweet.

  “Sorry, Frey,” I whispered.

  “Do not be sorry, be drowsy,” he ordered.

  I smiled and pressed closer to my husband.

  Then I whispered, “Thanks for saving my life.”

  He didn’t answer.

  He just gave me another tight squeeze.

  Chapter Twelve

  Return to Fyngaard

  We didn’t leave at dawn; we left three hours before it. But considering the sun kissed the sky around nine in the morning, this wasn’t that early. Nevertheless, with a restless night of sleep that included several awakenings, I was exhausted.

  Luckily, I had packed the trunks and Frey had loaded the sleigh the day before. However, even if we hadn’t done this, it would have been made light work of by the tall, burly men who were to ride with us.

  Before leaving, I met them briefly. Thad and Ruben were among them. Then there was Annar, Orion, Stephan (pronounced Steh-fawn), Gunner, Maximilian (but he told me everyone called him Max and invited me to do so too), Lund and Oleg.

  Oleg, I learned when Frey pulled me up in front of him on Tyr, was driving my sleigh which had the horses set to and was ready to go by the time I wandered sleepily outside wearing a cloak Frey chose for me (due to its warmness) that was made of white fur pelts dusted with black and gray hairs, gloves and a furry hat that matched the cloak.

  By the way, all of my fabulous outerwear was over a gown I chose for the purpose of meeting my parents, a softer than soft winter white cashmere that had an intricately crocheted, low, square neckline and a matching crocheted belt, so long, its ends hung to the hem of my skirt. I’d added a pair of fabulous fur-lined, over-the-knee charcoal gray suede, low-heeled boots and select pieces of very elegant but understated jewelry.

  Yes, it was the wee hours of the morning when Frey woke me and told me to get ready. And yes, we were going to be travelling all day, on the back of a horse no less. But also, I would be seeing my parents at the end of our journey, they didn’t seem to like Sjofn much and I wanted to make a good impression.

  So, off we went, the sleigh led by a big, black horse added to my grays (Oleg’s mount).

  The day before, I had asked and Frey had agreed to take the ride slower so we could stop in some of the villages on the way because I wanted to have a closer look and so we could have a break (and the horses could too) and something to eat. We were even going to spend the night in one of them so I could be rested and have the time to get presentable to meet my parents.

  This plan went out the window with the assassination attempt (understandably) and we were to press on swiftly and get to Fyngaard without delay.

  And this we did.

  Surprisingly, for the first couple of hours, I turned and curled as best I could into my husband’s big, warm body and somehow managed to fall asleep in the cradle of his arm.

  Once I woke, Frey ordered a halt and we all stopped to eat sandwiches Ruben’s woman made for us filled with cold, lean roast beef that had been stacked on slices of thick, chewy white bread while the beef’s juices still flowed, soaking the bread with flavor. It also had a spread of creamy horseradish sauce that was delicious but so thick it made my eyes water though none of the men even made a face as they wolfed the sandwiches down. This was followed with long pulls on wineskins that were filled with smooth whisky that, no matter how smooth, still made my eyes bug out. But Frey gently urged me to drink it to “keep warm inside”. So, since he was being gentle and Lord knew I needed to utilize every tactic to keep warm, I sucked back three big sips.

  He was right, it worked. After that, I was definitely warm inside.

  As we rode (and Oleg sledded with Penelope curled in the fur rug at the floor of the sleigh, oblivious to the ride, the scenery and everything, in kitty cat la-la land of warmth and definitely liking the sleigh better than riding on a horse and I knew this because she… freaking… told me), the men did not converse at all. They were alert and wary and Thad and Stephan often galloped away from the group, disappearing in front of us, obviously assessing if our path was clear. Lund and Annar often rounded back, clearly assessing if we were being followed. And Orion rarely rode with us, obviously out in the countryside somewhere, assessing if we were safe at our flanks. But Ruben, Gunner and Max stayed put, Gunner riding steady to Frey and my left, Max riding steady to Oleg’s right, Ruben at the front, our constant guard.

  As we rode through forest and over plain, Frey spoke to me, mostly telling me what the area we were in was called, the name of the river I’d seen on our way out, what each village was called and adding information, such as which gods and/or goddesses they worshiped.

  News: some villages chose specific gods or goddesses to revere above the others, sometimes it was one but it seemed to be on average three and their preferences were known easily for they had that god or goddess’s colors displayed in the town, or the town’s common places had statues, busts or their faces were carved into buildings (this, Frey pointed out to me and this, by the way, was cool and this, I decided, was why there was a lot of green and light blue in Houllebec because clearly they prayed to Hermia and Alabasta).

  Although Frey told me this, he didn’t explain why, he simply seemed to be talking to me to keep my mind off things.

  And he did, including the fact that he was telling me information that it was likely, as princess of this country, I should know.

  It didn’t occur to me once that this was weird.

  Not once.

  In fact, that thought didn’t enter my mind.

  Night fell as it usually did in that worl
d, that was to say in early afternoon and we were riding through another forest when it did it. I was way over the ride by then and as much as I liked Tyr, I wanted off that horse and in a place that was warm so that forest seemed to last forever until suddenly we came out it and the torchlit city of Fyngaard was laid out in the valley in front of us, surrounded by tall mountains, their snowy tops piercing the night sky.

  Where I had entered this world.

  Where my parents were.

  I again noted its beauty but I instantly grew anxious and I must have tensed or pulled in a breath for Frey’s arm around me grew tight but he said not a word.

  To take my mind off the impending meeting, as we rode through Fyngaard I looked around and saw it appeared most of the city had attended our wedding for the night I entered this world, it was mostly deserted.

  But now, there were people out and about, quite a number of them, walking, riding, standing around the big fire drums, holding their hands to them and chatting. There were also some sleighs, none as large as mine, one-seaters or two-seaters, some with an area at the back where you could put stuff, some without, some being pulled by two horses, most only one. All of the people were dressed differently than they were in Houllebec, their clothes more refined, some of the men and women here had fur trim on their outerwear and there was none in Houllebec and most of the women in Fyngaard wore elegant fur-trimmed hats and slim leather or suede gloves whereas in the village, the women wore knit caps and mittens.

  There were also several long lines of two story, connected buildings that had shops on the first floor with people in them or outside looking in, perusing the wares. They definitely had more of a selection then our little Houllebec including yarn shops, a number of dressmakers, milliners, tobacconists, wine and spirits, bookstores, stationery shops and shops that looked like they sold leather and fur. There were even two shops that we passed whose windows were decorated with what looked like spun, colored glass that was fashioned in all shapes from butterflies to hummingbirds to hawks, horses and wolves and even sleighs and ships and one of them had a large, elaborate and definitely cool dragon in its window.