by Lucy Roy
No, it seemed if something nefarious was truly afoot, those plans would not be carried out here.
“Yes, I think that—Oh!” She jumped back in her seat, startled as Jonas, clearly more than half in the bottle, stumbled against the table.
“Apologies, Princess!” He flashed her a grin and held up his glass in salute. His smile shifted a bit as he looked at Lea. “My lady.”
Freya’s heartbeat slowed a bit, having sped up at his sudden appearance.
Lea gave him a cool look. “Was there something you needed from my princess, Lord Edrin?”
“Ah!” He held up a finger. “Yes! Princess, his highness has asked for you. I believe he wishes to depart, yet I can’t seem to tear my aunt from his side.” He rolled his eyes. “Someone mentioned the increased interest in Saithian silks in Jotunheim and the conversation went downhill from there.”
Freya shot Lea a quick look and they both stood.
“Thank you, Jonas. I’ll go give him a rescue.”
He gave her a nod, then shifted his roguish grin to Lea. “And you, my lady, still owe me a dance.”
Lea gave him an incredulous look. “You seem hardly able to walk, and you expect to lead me in a dance?”
He straightened and gave her a sharp nod. “For you, my lady, I promise to remain fully upright and the perfect gentleman.”
Shaking her head in amusement, Freya left them, traversing the ballroom quickly, doing her best to smile and wave at her guests without getting drawn into conversation.
She found Aer with Lessia and a female courtesan that had come with her standing beside a set of open veranda doors, the courtesan talking, Aer smiling politely and nodding. The female had black hair that was similar in style to Lessia’s, and the same pale skin and narrow build, so Freya assumed some sort of familial relation.
Whether the courtesan knew Freya was approaching or not, Freya wasn’t sure, but just as Freya came upon them, she laid a hand on Aer’s arm and tossed her head back in a laugh. At the same moment, Aer’s gaze hardened, then shot to Freya’s, instantly filling with relief as he took a step away from both females.
Freya couldn’t help the flash of red she saw as another female touched her husband, but she forced down her fury as she quickened her steps.
When she arrived, she pasted on a bright smile and curled her arm through Aer’s.
“There you are,” Aer said, touching a kiss to her forehead. “This is Lady Effina Veldin, cousin to the empress. She’s traveled from northern Jotunheim to share in the celebration of our marriage.”
Effina, tall and even more beautiful up close, gave Freya a curtsy, then took a subtle step back, putting another foot of space between them. “I feel quite honored to attend such a joyous occasion.”
“Ah.” Freya inclined her head and gave her a smile tinged with condescension. “Out of curiosity, Lady Veldin, is it proper in northern Jotunheim to place your hands on married males?”
Effina’s eyes widened in a pitiful show of shock, and Freya hoped Aer was focusing on Lessia’s response.
“A-a-apologies, my lady. I—”
“It’s Princess, and please don’t stutter.” Freya barely watched as Effina opened her mouth to respond before shifting her attention to Lessia. “Empress, I do hope you’re enjoying yourself?”
Lessia blinked and her smile faltered slightly. “Why yes, Princess, this is one of the loveliest weddings I’ve been to in some time.”
“The empress and I were just talking about the variations in fashion between our nations,” Aer said, taking a sip of wine. “Quite a scintillating conversation, really.”
Freya smiled at the hint of sarcasm in his words that only she could detect. “Well, I apologize for interrupting, but Jonas just stole Lea away for a dance, so I was hoping I might do the same.”
“Anything for you, my love.” He gave Lessia and Effina a polite smile. “Empress, Lady Veldin, it was wonderful talking with you. We’ll speak again soon.”
Lessia smiled politely. “Of course, Your Highness. You two go enjoy yourselves.”
Aer curled his fingers through Freya’s as they walked off. As they skirted the dance floor, Freya attempted to reason out why Lessia and her cousin would attempt something so brash in such a public place. Nearly everything the empress had done since her arrival went against the cold, calculating female she’d heard so much about. If anything, she seemed quite the opposite. Her attempts to bait, irritate, and belittle Freya this past week had been amateur at best. If Freya hadn’t been trained by her parents to question everything, she might think Lessia had lost her touch.
Somehow, she doubted that was the case.
“Gods above,” Aer groaned once they were well out of earshot. “What took so long? Jonas went for you ages ago!”
Freya laughed. “I came to you as soon as he told me you were trapped in conversation. It’s not my fault if he got lost along the way.” She gave him a disbelieving look. “And please explain how you allowed yourself to get trapped in a discussion about textiles, of all things?”
“Discussion,” Aer scoffed. Tightening his hand in hers, he led her across the room. “You know, I think they were trying to seduce me!”
“Your deductive skills have improved greatly, I see.”
“Shall we escape, then?” He grinned as he tugged her toward the door. “It’s nearly three, so I’m sure no one will notice.”
Tossing a glance back toward the party, Freya nodded.
“Yes, let’s go.”
The corridors leading away from the ballroom to the royal chambers were blessedly quiet, a nice reprieve from the din of the reception. Their guards escorted them back, Rodrick and Perinald ahead, Rissen and Cecilia behind, all keeping a respectful distance as Aer swung Freya into his arms.
Laughing when he swept her off her feet, Freya wrapped her arms around his neck and touched a soft kiss to his jaw, more than happy to let him carry her the rest of the way. Her feet ached from hours of dancing and now she was all too eager to disappear into her chambers and forget about the rest of the world spinning along outside her door.
Her confidence that their wedding night would be fully enjoyable made her anticipation all that more intense. The feelings of apprehension she’d had no longer held the same weight as they once did, having been replaced by excitement. Her heart didn’t thrum with nerves as her husband carried her to her room. Instead, it beat with his, eager to be behind closed doors with no one expecting them to emerge any time soon.
When Aer reached her door, he pushed it open and kicked it shut behind them.
Someone, likely Rini and Tyna, had prepared the room for them. The chandelier had been dimmed, sweet-smelling candles were spread about, and a bowl of sandalwood-infused water sat atop the mantel, filling the air with its heady scent. The bedding had been changed from soft wool to smooth, shimmering silk. Gossamer bed curtains were hung and tied to the posts, waiting to wrap them in a cocoon of gold.
With a flick of her wrist, Freya cast a soundproofing enchantment over the room, then toed off the soft slippers Kallan had given her.
Aer set her on her feet, leaving one hand at her waist. Tilting her chin toward his, he kissed her. “For the past few years, I’ve been wondering how this night would go. Whether you’d want me, whether we’d be happy.” Another soft kiss. “What I might do to please you.”
“Everything you do pleases me,” she whispered.
His lips curved into a slow smile as he ran the back of his finger up her arm. Hooking it into the narrow sleeve that encircled her arm just below her shoulder, he gave a small tug. “Off with this.”
Freya brushed her fingers along the short row of buttons than ran from the small of her back to the top of her thighs, instantly releasing them and loosening the gown. Stepping back, she let it puddle at her feet.
Aer’s eyes darkened as he took her in. “What happened to those lacy underthings you were so fond of tormenting me with?”
Freya kicked her dress away
and stepped toward him, then ran her hands up his chest, gently shoving his vest off his shoulders. “They itched.”
“All day, you’ve had nothing on under your gown?” He slid his hands down to grip her waist, steadying himself as she began to unbutton his shirt. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve had you up here much sooner.”
Freeing him from his shirt, Freya leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his chest, then dragged her fingers down his stomach to the laces on his pants.
“You needed to focus on our guests,” she murmured. A tremble went through him as her fingers grazed the skin beneath his waistband, drawing forward a small, feline smile.
“Remind me to only buy you wretchedly uncomfortable undergarments from now on.” He shuddered out a breath, resting his forehead against hers as she loosened his pants and let them fall to the floor. Kicking them out of the way, he ran his hands across her hair, gently pulling away the pins and threads of gold that Tyna had used to hold it in place. As the rosy waves tumbled free, he smiled softly, his eyes saying more about the depth of his feelings than his touch ever could.
Elation poured over her as he carried her to the bed and gently laid her down atop the silk coverlet, then settled himself beside her.
“I believe,” he murmured, sliding a hand across her stomach, “that I owe you something.”
“Oh?” She tried to force a lightness into her tone, but the soft touch of his fingers was making her voice unsteady. “And what might that be?”
“A kiss.” His lips hovered a breath above hers then quirked into a devious grin as he slowly began to walk his fingers down her torso. “Right… about… here.”
She gasped, her back arching at his sudden. Her mind had hardly caught on to the sudden feelings of pleasure when he withdrew his hand and slowly kissed his way down her.
“Wait,” she said, putting a hand on his head, stopping him when he made to draw her legs over his shoulders.
“What is it?”
She shifted, gently nudging him off of her. Eyes hard on hers, he let her roll him to his back.
Planting her hands on the mattress on either side of his hips, she gave him a slow smile. “Me first.”
Chapter 48
Freya wasn’t sure if it was a sound or a feeling that woke her with a start some time later, but something had her sitting up in bed, her hand instantly shifting toward the nightstand where she kept her sharpest dagger. The night was dark, the moon hidden behind a curtain of clouds, so the only light was the dwindling fire Dina had lit in the hearth earlier. Glancing at the clock on her mantel, she saw that dawn was hardly an hour off.
Still drowsy, she waited several tense moments, straining her ears for anything that might’ve woken her, but all she heard were the soft crackling of embers and the quiet, rhythmic breathing of her husband.
A dream, then, she thought to herself, allowing her body to relax a bit. Only a dream.
Glancing down, she watched Aer as he slept beside her, his arms wrapped around the pillow, and the blanket slung low across his hips. Smiling, she brushed her thumb across his full lips, savoring the memory of how they’d felt earlier as he’d run them across her skin.
Laying on her side, she’d just begun to contemplate waking him when she heard a muffled cry followed by a soft thud.
She sat up again, this time pulling her dagger from the drawer and quietly slipping out of bed, not wanting to disturb Aer if it was just a servant with a stubbed toe.
Heart pounding, she picked up the first articles of clothing she found that wasn’t a gown—a pair of fur-lined leather pants and a red tunic she’d tossed over a chair the previous night—and pulled them on, then tiptoed to the door and cracked it open. The chilly night air hit her, awakening her senses a bit more as she stepped over the threshold. When she saw that the torches that normally lit the corridor had been extinguished, her heart sped up.
Tightening her grip on her dagger, she stepped a bit further into the corridor and squinted in each direction, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. Warily, she looked toward the darkened mouth of the hallway directly across from her room.
A breeze came through, bringing with it the scent of blood. Her wings flared out behind her as she shifted her gaze to the marble floor beneath the shadowy archway, more visible now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light.
The lifeless eyes of a Jotunheim guard stared back at her, his body almost completely concealed in shadow. Beside him lay the crumpled forms of her and Aer’s guards. As she let her eyes slide upward, she found several more bodies strewn down the corridor. She drew in a breath, inhaling their scents. All bore the scent of Jotnar warlocks.
Frozen in place, her mind warred between stepping forward to help or escaping through the tunnel in her room.
Help, she thought frantically as she slipped a feather from her wing. You have to help them!
She’d hardly parted her lips to sound an alarm when there was a commotion at the other end of the hall. Two figures, one tall, slim, and dressed all in black, were striking out at one another. The scream shriveled in her throat as she realized it might not draw the kind of attention she was hoping for.
Get back inside!
She stumbled back a step at the sudden intrusion in her mind, the voice that wasn’t hers, then froze when the two figures down the hall ceased their fighting and one slumped to the floor.
There was a noise behind her, then a shooting pain went up her spine as her wings were suddenly forced to retract. Just as she opened her mouth to cry out in pain, a hand clamped over her mouth and pinned her arms to her sides. Her blade fell to the floor, clattering loudly against the stone as she struggled against her captor. She tried to scream against his hand, but no sound would come out. Stretching her canines as long as was possible, she tried to bite down on the hand that was still silencing her, then cursed their too-short reach.
She threw back her head, and a wet crunch, followed by a growl of pain sounded from whoever held her. His arms loosened a fraction, giving her more room to move. Throwing her hand back, she stabbed the feather into his thigh, then readied herself to spring the moment the venom took effect.
Only it didn’t. Arms regained their grip and she was pulled back against her assailant’s hard chest once again. Aiming for his instep, she lashed out with her foot, remembering too late that she’d neglected to put her boots on before investigating.
She hardly had time to register her idiocy when the male who’d just been fighting appeared in front of her. Florian, his long, curved blade dripping blood on the floor beside him, raised a single finger to his lips, then jerked his chin toward her bedroom door.
She tried again to scream as Florian crossed the hall, not sparing a glance at the slumped bodies on the floor beneath him.
“Shh,” Jonas breathed, pulling her tighter against his chest. “I am not going to hurt you, Princess, I swear.”
I will not be kidnapped on my wedding night!
Her struggles began anew as Jonas dragged her back into her room.
The sound of her flailing legs caused Aer to startle awake. When he took in the scene before him, he leapt from the bed, pulling a short blade from the bedside table.
“What—”
The words died on his lips when he saw Florian step into the room behind Freya and Jonas, shutting and locking the door behind him. Freya continued to thrash against Jonas, trying again to bite his hands as Aer leapt over the divan toward her.
Florian was on him immediately.
She felt a sharp prick in her arm, and the last thing she saw before her eyes drifted shut was Aer slumping to the floor.
Freya was awoken by the scuff of boot on stone and the low murmur of male voices nearby.
Immediately, everything came rushing back.
Dead bodies in the hall.
Florian working with Jonas.
“Freya, wake up! Wake up, Freya!”
Freya eyes flew open and she bolted upright, then jumped when she felt
a hand on her arm.
“It’s me,” Aer whispered. “I don’t think—” His eyes hardened when he looked past her, then he leapt to his feet, pulling her with him.
“Good, you’re awake,” Byrric said as he strode toward them, followed by Jonas. “Get up, we haven’t much time.”
Someone had set orbs of light floating in the air, surrounding them with just enough illumination to see that her father’s uniform was streaked with blood and there was a fair bit of spatter across his face.
She stared at him, incredulous, her hands clenching into fists as she tried to force away the lingering burn of poison in her veins. “Good? That’s all you have to say?”
She wouldn’t—couldn’t—believe that her father had done anything that would truly harm her, but to simply said “Good” after she’d been attacked, poisoned, and dragged from her bedroom in the middle of the night was wildly outside the realm of normal for him.
“Freya—”
“You dosed us with widow venom!” she shouted, her wings flaring out behind her. The shift nearly sent her staggering as the poison finished burning itself out of her system.
“Apologies, Princess, but we had to give you a slightly higher dose than the prince,” Jonas said. Not a hint of remorse touched the male’s features as he stood next to her father. “Your venom counteracts Florian’s poisons quite fast. You should be fine momentarily.”
Even as he said the words, the fog began to lift a bit more. Shaking off the last dregs of poison, she let her mind run over the last things she could remember.
“You were drunk,” she said to Jonas. She realized it was likely the least-important detail to focus on, but her mind didn’t seem to be working quite properly at the moment. “And I stabbed you with a feather. Why aren’t you dead?”