Drakkar’s eyes moved to Aurora and she was observing him closely but did so giving nothing away.
But he knew she heard him too. Aurora always heard. Aurora made an art of listening.
He straightened and nodded to his sovereigns by name but not by right then turned to go, muttering, “We are done. I’m away to bathe and then get to my bride.”
He’d almost gained the door when Aurora called his name.
He turned and caught her eyes.
“Your…” she too hesitated before she said softly, “Finnie. How did her parents die?”
“I do not know,” Drakkar replied. “The elves did not tell me.”
She nodded and he started to turn again when she again called his name so he stopped and raised impatient brows to her.
“She came to…” another pause then a very soft, “a whole other world just to…” she pulled in a slight breath, “see them?”
“Indeed,” Drakkar answered. “And in doing so, to see you,” he clarified.
Aurora held his eyes.
Then she observed quietly, “She must have loved them very much.”
“No,” Drakkar stated. “In the last days as I told her of you, any mention, even in passing, of your names, her eyes would light, her cheeks would pink with excitement, her attention, always avid, would grow intense. She did not love her parents very much, my queen. They were her world. And she journeyed from that world to have them back. That is something beyond love but I don’t know what it is. What I do know is that they must have been remarkable to deserve that devotion.”
Aurora held his eyes and as she did she gave him something she’d never given him nor had he ever seen her give anyone else, even her husband.
She visibly showed vulnerability.
Drakkar watched Queen Aurora pull her lips between her teeth as her eyes got bright with unshed tears. Then she released her lips and swallowed, blinking and the brightness in her eyes disappeared.
Then she said quietly, “I look forward to knowing your Finnie, Drakkar.”
“I can assure you, you do,” Drakkar replied quietly back, dipped his chin to her and to his king then he walked out of the room.
* * * * *
Bathed and dressed for dinner, Frey moved down the hall to the door of the rooms he would be sharing with his wife in order to have a brief moment with Finnie prior to escorting her to dinner.
He was pleasantly contemplating how he would spend that brief moment as he turned the knob and entered their rooms.
He got two steps in, caught sight of his wife and stopped dead.
Finnie was sitting in an armchair across the great space, her knees tight to her chest, a winter white blanket tucked around her and her cat Penelope was curled in a ball in the seat by her hip. Her head was bowed to a book, her white-blonde hair had been curled in a riot of waves and ringlets that fell down her back but was pulled up at the sides in jeweled clips. Her face was made up in a way that managed to succeed in what, until gazing on her, Frey would have thought was the impossible task of enhancing her already significant beauty and he could see her even more generous than normal display of cleavage coming forth from a gown of shimmering ice blue that was exceedingly becoming to her complexion and coloring. All of this was to such an extreme, he had to stop dead to give himself a chance to take it in.
Her head came up and her eyes slowly turned to him and when the fullness of their beauty hit him, Frey considered skipping dinner altogether. And as he considered this he decided that later, much later, they could have something sent up.
This idea fled his mind when she said softly, yet listlessly, “Hey. You’re back.”
Then she turned back to her book.
These actions made Frey stay frozen for an altogether different reason as he studied his wife and her demeanor and registered a tone she’d never used and one which by no means suited her.
Then he closed the door and walked into the room, saying, “Your parents would like us to meet them for a drink prior to us sitting down to dinner.”
Her head came up and she turned her eyes to him briefly, not indicating even a hint of excitement at this idea, before she looked away, nodded and then reached to grab a ribbon to put in her book. She did this, closed it, set it on the table beside the chair and then gently nudged Penelope, who gave a sleepy, disturbed “mew” before jumping to the floor.
Frey had come to a stop in front of her when she tossed the blanket aside and stood, her eyes averted, then she attempted to scoot out from in front of him to pass him.
His arm instantly moved to hook her at the waist and pull her in front of him, his other one moving around to hold her there.
Her head tipped back to look at him and he felt his gut tighten when he saw a blankness that fitted her mother of this world far more than his Finnie.
“Is something amiss, wee one?” he asked and she shook her head.
“Just tired and hungry,” she spoke her lie before again looking away and moving to break from his arms.
They tightened and her eyes went back to him.
“I asked what was amiss, Finnie,” he said softly.
“And I told you. I’m tired and hungry,” she lied again. “Can we go to dinner?”
“In a minute,” Frey stated, she pulled in breath and let it out, holding his gaze, waiting then he queried, “What’s the matter?”
Her body grew tight in his arms and her brows inched together with irritation.
“Frey, I told you. I’m tired and hungry.”
“This is not it,” he replied.
“Yes it is,” she returned.
“You’re lying, wife,” he stated and she blinked and after she blinked her cheeks flushed and her eyes flashed.
“Did you just say I was lying?” she whispered.
“I did because you are,” he stated.
Her brows snapped together and her irritation grew to visible annoyance. “I am not and anyway, if I was, you don’t know me enough to know when I am.”
“You’re hiding something,” Frey told her, “and I wish to know what it is.”
She pulled against his arms and was nowhere near strong enough to dislodge them but was smart enough to give up before she snapped, “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Wife,” he gave her a gentle squeeze, “I have seen you tired, hungry, and tired and hungry. You do not lose the light in your eyes or the cheerfulness with which you hold your frame even when you are one, the other or both. Now, you’re hiding something and I wish to know what it is.”
She glared up at him but didn’t speak.
So he guessed, “Are you nervous about dinner with your parents?”
Her glare narrowed and she asked, “Why would I be nervous? They’re my parents. We’ve had thousands of dinners.”
This was a lie too though he let that particular one pass.
“All right, if you’re not nervous about your parents, then what are you not sharing with me?”
It was then she stated with not a small amount of ire, “Okay, Frey, actually, I am hiding something and it’s my something to hide and you can be a big, strong guy but if I have something on my mind I don’t wish to share, I don’t have to share it. So, suck it up because I’m not going to share it. All right?”
“Suck it up?” he asked quietly.
“Man up or…” she shook her head with frustration as she searched for words from both their worlds he would understand, “I don’t know. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”
He dipped his face closer to hers and said carefully, “My wee Finnie, I do not like that you would keep anything from me.”
