Midnight Soul (Fantasyland #5)

by Kristen Ashley

  “I can imagine even you, Franka, would admit that a physician is far more capable of making that judgment than you,” Queen Aurora replied.

  I could not argue that.

  Therefore, I didn’t.

  “You’ve consumed your willow tea?” she asked, like a strict but concerned nanny.

  Yes.

  The queen speaking to me like a strict but concerned nanny.

  Me!

  “I have, my queen,” I muttered.

  “Excellent. I believe I’ll give you the day. Tomorrow is the wedding, the perfect time for you to rest and mend uninterrupted. The eve after that, I’ll dine with you. Myself and Finnie, and, of course, The Drakkar.”

  I wanted to dine with the queen, her other-world daughter and her son-in-law, a cousin who hated me, like I wanted someone to stick knitting needles in my eyes.

  But did one refuse a queen?

  No.

  One did not.

  “It would be my most fervent wish, your grace,” I replied, my voice betraying it was what it was, absolutely the opposite.

  “And Noc as well, I’m sure,” Queen Aurora went on.

  I ground my teeth and glanced to Noc.

  He was again grinning.

  “I’ll be there,” he assured.

  “Lovely, I’ll check in on you later. Rest, Franka,” the queen ordered.

  “As you wish, my queen.” I had no choice but to agree.

  With a short nod, she turned, and with no further ado, swept out of the room.

  I frowned at the door.

  Noc pushed away from the wall and moved to fill the space the queen had been occupying by my bed.

  “I’m thinkin’ that’s that,” he noted, his lips still curled up.

  “As I’ve been ordered to rest by our sovereign, perhaps you’ll leave me so I can do just that,” I suggested tetchily.

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “My gratitude,” I bit out.

  “Be back to have lunch with you, though.”

  Really.

  I might have lived a life of malice and intrigue, but surely all I’d done hadn’t earned me this.

  “I can’t wait,” I gritted.

  “Bet you can’t,” he murmured, his voice shaking with mirth.

  I lifted my brows. “You were leaving?”

  “Right,” he replied, but did not move.

  “The sooner you do that, the sooner I can rest and mend,” I prompted.

  “Fuck, don’t know if you’re more cute than you are funny or the other way around.”

  “Just so you’re aware, I take neither as a compliment,” I shared.

  He burst out laughing, the sound filling the room and warming it better than the biggest, most blazing fire could achieve.

  I decided my best course of action from that point was silence.

  When his hilarity calmed, he decreed, “Right now, funnier than you are cute. But just barely.”

  I simply stared up at him blankly.

  His expression changed to serious. “You’re in pain, you say. Josette or someone will be close. We’ll get you more of that tea.”

  I remained silent.

  “Doc’s comin’ later,” he told me.

  I tipped my head the best I could as it was resting on my arms.

  “You good, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

  I was not.

  “Fine,” I bit out.

  That got another curl of his lips.

  “Right then, Frannie. See you later.”

  Stop calling me that appalling name! my mind screamed.

  My mouth said nothing.

  I should have said something. I should have even screamed my thoughts at him.

  But since I didn’t, he was open to shift closer and bend so near he was able to brush his lips at my temple at the same time he swept the hair from my neck.

  “Rest good,” he whispered in my ear.

  I fought new warmth in my belly, tilted my eyes to catch his as he moved away and attempted yet again to scorch him with a glare.

  It glanced off him as his lips quirked, he turned and I watched his arse in another, more faded-blue pair of his attractive other-world trousers.

  When he disappeared beyond the door, I tilted my eyes so far to the side, I could see the ceiling.

  “If I promise to be the soul of charitability and kindness, will you release me of my torment?” I asked the gods, any of them, I didn’t care which one was listening.

  “What’s that, Lady Franka?” Josette called.

  “Nothing,” I muttered, foiled at every turn, including the fact I knew my maid was sitting by the fire in one of the armchairs in my room, mending some of my clothing, thus she would hear I was reduced to verbally begging the gods for a reprieve.

  Oh, but it was so much easier when no one cared a whit. It’d only been hours when they did and I already knew that as a certainty.

  I sighed.

  I stared at the pillow.

  I considered making more promises to the gods (but silently).

  My mind wandered to Noc’s arse in his trousers.

  And thus, unbeknownst to me, I fell asleep with a curl on my lips.

  * * * * *

  I woke suddenly, feeling strange.

  I saw vague firelight glinting on my pillow but the room was lit by naught else.

  It was night.

  I’d been sleeping.

  Now I was awake.

  Awake and I could see the shadow of a large man sitting in a chair by my bed.

  Disoriented but feeling alarm course through me at this realization, my back raged with pain as I abruptly pushed up to my forearms.

  “Calm, Franka,” Frey’s voice came to me quietly. “It’s only me.”

  I tried to put a whip in my voice, but I was drowsy and confused so it came only as a minor bite when I asked, “And what, pray, are you doing sitting by my bed in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s barely eight in the evening.”

  Blast my father and his abuses. I’d drifted off after my (delicious, amazingly so considering what it was) broth, bread and wine.

  “I presumed you’d wake and then we could talk,” Frey continued.

  “I do hope you understand I’m really in no mood,” I replied.

  He leaned toward me, putting his elbows on his knees, and ignored my assertion completely.

  “I was wrong about you,” he told me softly.

  “You were not,” I returned briskly. “I am precisely who you thought I was.”

  “You realize the game is over?” he inquired.

  “I realize nothing of the sort, considering there was no game,” I retorted. “I am Franka Drakkar now. I was Franka Drakkar a week ago, two months ago, ten years ago. Nothing has changed.”

  “Everything’s changed.”

  I could take no more.

  “Frey, my darling cousin,” I started on a drawl, “it seems I’ve procured one stubborn, annoying male in my life for the foreseeable future. I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t double that number for I don’t even want the one I already have.”

  He again ignored me, something both the stubborn, annoying males in my life were clearly very adept at doing.

  “I was under the impression your father was dead.”

  Ah yes, my father’s “death.”

  A juvenile piece of conniving, that. Unnecessarily dramatic. Although at the time I did find the lack of grief expressed by the Houses at his “demise” rather humorous.

  That said, it did allow my dearest papa to achieve success in a variety of nefarious machinations, one of which was continuing to rain abuse down on his two children with great alacrity and no accountability.

  I shrugged one shoulder minutely and held my gaze aimed to his face, but dipped my voice lower as I shared, “You know we Drakkars like our schemes, Frey.”

  I saw his head bow in a nod.

  Therefore I went on.

  “Schemes are far easier to achieve if perpet
rated by a ghost.”

  This was met with silence and I waited with ill-patience as my cousin digested the nugget I’d granted.

  He’d clearly done so when he spoke his next.

  “I wish you’d told me.”

  That was not relayed in a quiet voice. Or a soft one.

  It was gentle and it was melancholy.

  And, damn all the gods, I felt it touch my heart.

  As I was adept at doing, I triumphed over the weakness of such a feeling.

  “And how would that conversation have gone, Frey?” I asked. “Perhaps the first time you accused me of treason, I should have played that card by playing on your sympathies. ‘Oh, but Frey, I’d never do that, not because I’m a Drakkar and it’d be foolish beyond reason. But because, poor little me, my father is fond of a lash and has been since I was wee.’”

  “Derision is no longer a weapon you need to use, Franka,” he shared.

  “It’s served me well much of my life. I’ve honed my talent with it quite keenly, so if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll keep it,” I rejoined.

  I could not make his face out well in the shadows and firelight, but he didn’t seem to be getting annoyed.

  If my eyes didn’t deceive me, it seemed he was smiling.

  “As you wish, cousin,” he murmured. “Understanding what lies beneath the mask, it will surely cease to be irritating and prove quite enjoyable.”

  Things seemed to continue to get worse.

  “I can call the elves, Franka,” he said low. “Ask them to see to your back.”

  The elves of our realm had healing powers beyond comprehension, as evidenced by the fact they’d brought a dead Lavinia back to life. It was lore the dead person needed to be freshly dead for this to prove a successful, rather than a highly disturbing endeavor (and thus the elves no longer did such a thing). Luckily, Lavinia was only in that sad state for a few hours.

  And Frey had command of the elves.

  But I thought not.

  “My back will heal,” I declared.

  “It will, but they can—”

  “They’re mine,” I bit out. “I earned them in a way you can’t comprehend and I’m keeping them, Frey. And with respect, that’s the end of that discussion.”

  He was silent for a moment and I felt his contemplation.

  But fortunately, he let that subject go.

  “Do you need anything before I return to Finnie and send Noc back to you?” he queried.

  “I need you not to send Noc back to me,” I answered.

  There was a timbre to his voice that betrayed his amusement when he returned, “Yes, I see this is going to prove quite enjoyable.”

  I fought gnashing my teeth.

  Frey stood.

  “Rest well, Franka. I’ll poke my head in after the wedding tomorrow. See how you’re faring.”

  “I await this visit with bated breath, cousin,” I murmured sardonically.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Most amusing.”

  I did not look but I feared he stood, grinning down at me for a long moment (because he stood by my bed for a long moment) before he finally bid me goodnight and took his leave.

  There it was.

  Proof.

  The gods had forsaken me.

  I understood that from a wee girl but it seemed since then I’d held on to a vein of hope.

  That hope was dashed.

  My cousin Frey liked me and found me amusing.

  Him and others besides.

  I was a disgrace to my House.

  Blast.

  Chapter Five

  Get with the Program

  Franka

  “Is everything all right, my lady?” Josette asked.

  I turned my head from my contemplation of the view outside the newly-installed window, in font of which my chair was resting, and looked to my maid, trying not to be annoyed at her hovering concern.

  “Everything is just fine, Josette. Except perhaps you can bring me my book?”

  She jumped as if she’d been asleep and just awoken before she dashed to the book sitting on the nightstand, like procuring it was of grave import. Once this crucial task was accomplished, she dashed directly to me.

  “There you go,” she said, offering me the slim volume.

  “My appreciation,” I murmured tightly, taking it.

  “Anything else?” she inquired. “Do you feel pain? Would you like me to brew some willow tea? Are your dressings chafing? Would you like me to assist you back to the bed?”

  “I’d like, my dear, some quiet and peace in order to read,” I replied with forced composure.

  “Yes,” she returned swiftly. “Of course. I’m just in the other room should you need to call.”

  As she had been for the last three days, only a slight raise of the voice away.

  I watched as she made her way to my dressing-room door, a small antechamber of that room where her narrow bed was located, but I stopped her before she vanished behind it.

  “Josette?”

  She turned to me.

  I continued, “We haven’t discussed it, but I’d like for you to share how you knew to awaken Noctorno and take him to the buttery.”

  Her inquisitive look turned guarded and it took a moment for her to answer.

  As this moment passed I sought patience, something of which I’d once had a profuse amount at my disposal. Patience was important when one engaged in plentiful amounts of intrigue.

  Something I’d found slipping of late.

  When I was on the cusp of prompting her, she declared, “I sleep light.”

  “This is not quite an explanation,” I noted when she said no more.

  “I’ve been in service almost all my life. When my employers have need of me, night or day, I’m trained to be awake and aware.”

  “You’re an excellent maid, Josette. Are you saying something woke you, you found my bed empty and went in search of me?”

  “Actually, you woke me, closing the door to your room. I worried about you, your…well, state of mind being…well…” She shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. The thing is, I was worried so I followed you.”

  How curious.

  I hadn’t heard her. I hadn’t even sensed her.

  Then again, my mind had been on other things.

  “And thus you saw it all,” I remarked. “Or heard it, when you weren’t bustling to go tell Master Noctorno what was happening.”

  She visibly swallowed.

  I studied her and as I did so I watched her anxiety escalate.

  As noted, she’d been an excellent maid for some time.

  The past several days, however, she’d been more.

  Therefore, I found myself assuring her softly, “I’m not angry with you, Josette.”

  “He was…” she shook her head again, “Master Noc was the only one I was certain would…help,” she finished feebly.

  “I’m certain you’re quite right,” I replied.

  She took a step toward me and stopped. “I’m very pleased you’re not annoyed with me, Lady Franka. I thought…when the subject came up, you’d…” she trailed off and didn’t continue.

  There was much about this to consider and I’d most assuredly considered it over the last few days.

  Namely, the filthy secret of Nils, Anneka, Franka and Kristian Drakkar being out.

  And the end of the domination, fear and torment.

  It was unexpectedly not easy to come to terms with.

  Considering my mother’s magic, and the life I’d led where memories started with suffering in a way I knew nothing else, I’d never pondered a life without Nils and Anneka meting out their brand of ruthlessness. A life not living under the cloud of it happening again, doing my best to escape it and finding ways to keep safe from the minute I could.

  I should have been relieved. Even joyous.

  And yet I was not.

  I felt a good deal of humiliation, but more of shame with an underlying uneasiness.

 
Kristian, I’d learned (from Finnie during one of her many visits), wanted to settle his wife and child after the fright of Mother appearing, and then they were journeying to the Winter Palace to see me. Valentine had offered to bring them there much quicker, that was to say in an instant, but Kristian had declined, fearing his young son’s reaction to such a happenstance.

  Though mostly, I’d decided, it was probably that this offer was extended right after Valentine interrupted my mother’s preparations so my brother was likely more concerned about the state of mind of his family than travel plans.

  It was highly unusual (and if they were to journey by sleigh, which it seemed they were going to do, meaning I’d be at the Winter Palace even longer than the queen decreed) but I was keen for my brother’s visit.

  It wasn’t unusual because I wished to see him and ascertain if he was indeed well in mind and spirit.

  It was unusual because I wished to talk with him about his reaction to our lifelong misery coming to an abrupt, unanticipated end.

  Discussing my feelings was not something I was adept at doing. That was to say, since I put a stop to Kristian and I whispering together as children because we were repeatedly punished for it, I’d never done it, not even with Antoine.

  Therefore looking forward to such discourse was farcical.

  But it could not be denied I did.

  “My lady, is there aught else?” Josette called, and I started, losing track of our conversation and even forgetting she was there.

  “I’m so sorry, Josette. My mind wandered. No, thank you. Nothing else.”

  She did not move.

  All she did was blink.

  I found that odd until I realized what had come out of my mouth.

  Dear goddess, I’d apologized.

  And…

  I peered closer at my maid, squinting my eyes across the distance…

  It appeared she was on the verge of tears!

  Bloody hell.

  I wasn’t an ogre but she’d been with me for five years.

  Five years with someone who was distant, respectful, but not kind.

  Not to mention, the very idea of living a life at the beck and call of anyone was revolting.

  Further, as my parents had taught me—that servants were beneath my notice—living a life not once considering that dreadful fact was even more revolting.

  Which meant I was revolting!

  You’re learning, mon ange, Antoine said in my head.