“Finnie –”
“What?”
“Fin –”
I put a hand on his chest, got up on the toes of my red satin, jet-beaded-pointed-toed slippers and asked, “What’s upset you, Frey?”
He kept hold of my eyes. Then he dipped his face closer to me.
Then he said, “You wear the colors of Drakkar.”
I blinked. Then I asked, “What?”
He didn’t repeat himself. Instead he replied, “I was wrong when I told you I didn’t have a favorite color. My favorite colors are your colors.” I blinked as my heart skipped a beat and Frey continued, “I prefer you in your whites, your silvers, your grays and definitely your blues.” I stared, thinking he really paid attention at the same time my belly got really warm at his words then he kept talking. “What I do not like to see you in is the red of Drakkar.”
My belly grew instantly cold, I rolled back to the soles of my feet, surprised and, I had to admit, dejected.
“I wore this for you,” I whispered. “Mother said –”
His hand at my neck squeezed lightly and he whispered back, “I know, wee one and I appreciate the gesture. But that does not change the fact that I dislike you in the color of my House.”
Oh God.
Of course not. Why was I so stupid? I knew he had nothing to do with his House. I should never have listened to Mother.
I turned my eyes away and muttered, “Hells bells, I screwed up.”
“Finnie, look at me, love,” he called with another squeeze of his hand and my eyes went to his. “I do not associate with my House.”
I nodded and admitted, “I know, I heard. That’s how I screwed up.” I leaned further into him. “I’m so sorry, Frey.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Your gesture is touching and your mother knows what she’s doing. This does not mean I like it.”
I blinked and asked, “My mother knows what she’s doing?”
He nodded and then imparted information on me that made my lungs seize.
“There will be members of my House up there. My parents, assuredly. My cousin Franka, considering the level and nature of her curiosity, almost definitely. Perhaps even my brothers though I have not heard word they’re attending.”
The news of his cousin was alarming, the news of his brothers also, but I was frozen at news of his parents.
“Your parents are upstairs?” I breathed.
“Undoubtedly,” he confirmed.
“Your parents are upstairs,” I repeated on a breath.
“Finnie –”
I pulled away from his hand at my neck, grabbed it and tugged him five feet back down the hall. Then I stood with my back to the landing and hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
God. His parents. I would soon be meeting Frey’s parents!
God!
I looked freaking great but I wasn’t ready for this.
“Finnie –”
I interrupted him. “You can’t… you can’t just… just… spring this on a girl five minutes before she meets your parents!”
His hands, both of them this time, curled around my neck and he bent so his face was close when he said gently, “Wee one, calm down.”
“Calm is not an option, Frey,” I told him, panic clear in my voice. “Your parents are upstairs!”
“They are,” he confirmed again.
“And your cousin!” I went on.
“Finnie, my love –”
“And, possibly, your brothers!” Now I was working myself up into a state.
“Fin –”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I semi-shrieked, the words coming out slightly shrill, slightly loud and definitely panicked therefore Frey let me go but grabbed my hand and pulled me back down the hall another five feet. Then he stopped and resumed our positions, this time turning me so his back to the stairwell.
“I didn’t tell you, my wee Finnie, for this exact reason. I knew you’d react this way. You care, you want to make a good impression, you twist yourself into knots to make your father proud of you, you sit with your mother while she embroiders when I know you’d rather be anywhere but there, doing something, meeting people, gaming, shopping, eating, chatting. Now, you’re anxious and I’d rather you be anxious for the second it takes you to control your emotions and move forward being charming the moment you meet them then tell you days ago so you could work yourself up and spend your days in this state.”
I glared at him as it hit me this was kind of nice and definitely thoughtful.
“You know, it’s annoying when you’re thoughtful and I’m geared up to be pissed at you,” I snapped, the unsettled look went out of Frey’s eyes and he grinned.
Then he bent closer and touched his lips to my nose and moved back.
That was also thoughtful because it was soothing and sweet.
Damn the man.
Then he said, “Since you now know, I’ll brief you further.”
“That’d be nice, Frey,” I said on a sigh, trying to keep up the glare and failing.
He grinned again, totally seeing I was failing at my endeavors to remain pissed and his hands dropped from my neck to rest at my waist.
Then his face got serious and I braced.
“If you know I have nothing to do with my House then you likely know I do not care for my parents. Therefore, I do not care what they think of you. I know how I think of you and their thoughts matter nothing to me.”
Well, this was good.
“Okay,” I replied.
His fingers gave me a squeeze and he went on. “But the House of Drakkar holds wealth and wealth means power. Their influence has dwindled over the years but money can buy nearly anything. Your mother arranging that you wear their colors is a statement that says that, upon our marriage, it was not simply me accepted into the House of Wilde, but you also entered the House of Drakkar. She is saying you are one of them. She is attempting to make that point clear.”
I felt my brows knit and I asked, “Why would she do that?”
“Because she wishes to build an alliance. Power is power no matter who wields it. The members of the House of Drakkar spend a great deal of time and effort fighting amongst themselves but the way they are, that does not mean they do not have plenty of time to devote to engaging in hostility to others. You wearing the colors of my House is not only an homage to my House, it is also publicly stating to all Houses that you are now a Drakkar. It is a clever ploy. She is reminding them that Drakkars have a member of their House, no matter how distant he is with his brethren, who will eventually be father to the next king of Lunwyn. With you wearing their colors, your mother is also reminding them that his bride, a Wilde and now a Drakkar, will be the mother of our future king and should be treated with the respect she deserves for all those reasons.”
I stared up at him in mild surprise and asked, “They wouldn’t treat me with respect?”
“My wee one,” Frey said gently, “with my family, there is no telling what they will do.”
Hmm.
Well, the good news was, Mother wasn’t stupid, though I’d already pretty much sussed that.
“As clever as it was of your mother and as fetching as that dress is on you, I still don’t like you wearing
