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 world, 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.
It was all so fascinating, my head often turned or my body twisted to keep sight of something we passed and when we passed the glass shops, I decided I was definitely checking those out, as soon as I could.
