to me. “You don’t need to make a match,” I told them. “Frey likes me just fine.”
They stared at me, Jocelyn even blinked.
Then Alyssa breathed, “What?”
“He did take off on his ship but when he came back we made a deal and since then, he’s been lovely. We get along great, I like him, he likes me and, um… things are progressing very well,” I assured them.
At that, all of them blinked and then I braced because they suddenly rushed me as one.
“Oh Finnie,” Jocelyn breathed, holding onto my arm hard, “has he bedded you?”
“By the gods,” Alyssa breathed before I could utter a noise, she was holding onto my other arm, her eyes on Jocelyn, “I can’t believe this. This is wonderful.” Her eager deep blue eyes came to me. “Is he as skilled as they say?”
“I know he is,” Esther, standing close to my front, her hazel eyes dancing. “He took Viola, to his bed. You remember,” her eyes moved from Jocelyn to Alyssa, “that maid, the pretty one who serves the princess’s table? She says he kept her there three days, three busy days and when he released her she did not wish to go.”
Oh my God. Was I hearing them right?
My heart started banging in my chest as my stomach clenched.
“I do know,” Jocelyn whispered, “everyone knows. Her stories of his varied and vigorous talents kept me warm many a night after I heard them.”
Everyone knows?
“Don’t forget his stamina,” Alyssa added on a wicked grin.
Stamina?
All three giggled.
I tried hard to recover from what felt like a punch in the stomach.
Frey had fucked a maid?
One from my house?
For three straight days?
Again, a maid who worked in my house?
I mean, what the fuck was that?
“Gods!” Jocelyn cried suddenly and I jumped. “Water! Oils!” She grinned at me and gave my arm a squeeze. “Even though he,” she leaned in, her grin getting wider, “likes our princess… tonight, we still get to show him the fullness of her beauty.”
“I’ll see to the water,” Esther stated, peeling off.
“I’ll go see where Bess is with the state of the trunks,” Jocelyn mumbled, also peeling off.
“I’ll press the ice blue,” Alyssa muttered, hurrying to one of the wardrobes.
“Lounge and relax, Finnie,” Jocelyn called from the door. “We’ll take care of you.” She smiled big. “It’s what we do.”
I nodded distractedly to her and then wandered to the lounge, suddenly exhausted and not in a good way.
And this was because, first, Frey had dumped me in a hunting cabin when he had an apparently fabulous lodge and a slightly less fabulous but still lovely chalet where he could have taken me. Not to mention a quaint cottage on the Winter Sea, whatever that was.
Second, I could understand this (slightly) considering he hated Sjofn but he didn’t hate me and he still kept me at his hunting cabin where I cooked for him, kept the place clean and, one day, washed his bloody clothes, another of my not very favorite activities.
Third, I had gone out of my way to dress nice for my parents and they hadn’t even seen me with my cloak off. I had no time to make a good impression or any impression before Frey ordered their attendance (he ordered a king and queen and they did his bidding, what was that all about) and stalked off with them scurrying to follow.
And now, we were back at my palace but Frey prowled away with my father and mother without a kind touch, word or even look and my maidservants were sweet but they were preparing me to eat dinner with my mother, father and husband at a table that would probably be served by a girl my husband had fucked with varied and vigorous talent and, let us not forget, stamina for three days.
I felt a headache coming on, not a real one, but a violent one nonetheless, so violent it would keep me in bed for about three weeks.
Maybe four.
Unfortunately, this kind of thing would probably incense my mother, who already clearly did not like me and my father, who I didn’t think liked me a great deal more because he’d barely said a word to me, few of the ones he’d spoken were nice and earlier he had barely even looked at me.
I dropped to then I curled up on the lounge as these things moved through my brain.
Shit.
I tucked my hands under my cheek on the armrest and watched Alyssa disappear out of the room carrying a flash of extraordinary ice blue satin, the fullness of it I could not see.
But it was extraordinary ice blue satin that likely was an extraordinary ice blue gown that, normally, I would be in fits of excitement to see.
At that moment I absolutely was not.
I closed my eyes, deciding I needed Penelope.
I also needed to find out what the witch named Agnes needed to tell me so pressingly.
And I also needed to figure out why the idea of Frey sleeping with one of my maids hurt so damned much.
Shit.
Then I decided not to think of why Frey’s sexual antics hurt and, indeed, not to think about Frey at all.
Instead, I decided to think of a nice hot bath, donning a probably extraordinary dress and then putting one foot in front of the other until I could actually get away with faking a headache, which would be around the time I was again alone with my husband. And that headache would be so intense, he’d need to leave me alone in my bed and go the fuck away until I had time to sort my shit out.
Chapter Thirteen
The Drakkar Will Rise
“I do not believe this,” King Atticus whispered to the night-filled window and Frey Drakkar turned his eyes from his king’s openly ravaged expression to look at his queen.
Queen Aurora had her gaze averted from Drakkar’s shrewd eyes, her expression hidden but what he could see of her face, it was carefully blank.
Neither reaction to their daughter’s grave actions was a surprise.
King Atticus didn’t often hide his emotions. He did not need to. He was king and those around him catered to his whims.
Queen Aurora was another story.
Atticus turned from the window, his openly wounded eyes finding Drakkar’s and he whispered, “This is… this is… this travel to another world… it is… it’s akin to –”
“Treason,” Aurora finished for her husband, her voice cold, emotionless and Atticus turned to his wife.
“Aurora, my love –”
She cut him off. “I told you, time and again, Atticus, I told you not to raise our girl as,” she leaned toward her husband, “a boy.”
Atticus’s jaw got tight. “I did not raise her as a boy. She simply enjoys those things, it’s her nature, and she enjoys being with her father doing them. But even so, that has nothing to do with it and you know it.”
“It doesn’t?” Aurora shot back and crossed her arms on her chest, turning fully to face her husband. “You always wanted a son. Always. And not having one, all her life she’s been taught as you would have taught a son, a
