Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams (3 page)

Freaking
great
underwear.

“
This… is… so…
cool!
” I whispered as I stared at myself in the
mirror.

“
Seeoohaahfiiiiiiiin!
” I heard the frantic cry, I started, dropped my skirt and
looked to the door.

Then I dashed to the bed, snatched up the
paper, folded it twice so it was smaller and shoved it into my
cleavage.

Then I rushed to the door and had my hand on
the skeleton key in the lock when I stopped dead.

“
Sjofn, open this door this
instant,
” a
cold, imperious,
achingly familiar
woman’s voice demanded through the door.

I closed my eyes as warmth spread through
me.

“Mom,” I whispered.

Then I opened my eyes, smiled huge and
turned the lock. Now
I
was
frantic to get the door opened but when I pulled at it, it didn’t
budge. I stared at it and saw three, thick wooden planks, one on
top, one on the bottom, one in the middle, all thrown to in iron
latches, bolting the door shut.

How weird.

I shoved them all aside and yanked open the
door.

Then I froze again, the smile fading from my
face as I saw my mother’s body jolt, she blinked then she glared at
me.

I stared at her.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

There she was.

My Mom.

Looking at her I thought,
Absolutely,
definitely, one hundred percent worth a million dollars.
Absolutely.

I took her in, all of her and I felt my
stomach get warm.

I got my light blue eyes from her and I was
looking right into them; looking into them again for the first time
in fifteen years.

I felt my eyes fill with tears. Me! Seoafin
Wilde about to cry.

Impossible.

But there it was.

I was a freak of nature, where I got my
unusual hair, I did not know. My mother and father were both dark
and Dad had dark brown eyes. Both of them were tall, lean and
straight. I was average height (a little less than that, if I had
to admit it, though not short) and curvy.

And now, standing before me in a gown much
like mine but a deep red with a glossy, brown fur ruff around her
neck, her still dark hair (there were only intermittent shafts of
gorgeous silver) pulled up in twists, curls and braids with tiny,
gold clips in the shapes of butterflies everywhere, her own crown,
gold with diamonds and rubies, a dripping, gold necklace scattered
with rubies covering the skin that her scooped neckline exposed and
long, gold and ruby earrings hanging from her ears, skimming the
fur around her neck was my…
freaking…
Mom.

“Mom,” I whispered, blinking away the tears
and even doing that, I saw her eyes narrow in annoyance over dark,
elegant, arched brows that snapped together.

“I’ll countenance none of this nonsense,
Sjofn,” she snapped with cold irritation. “We should have left
fifteen minutes ago. The Drakkar awaits and all know he is
impatient and doesn’t want to be where he’s standing right this
very minute in the first place.”

She turned, lifted a hand at four young
women who were hanging about, all wearing gowns made of soft wool,
nowhere near as grand as Mom and mine and all in dark colors, navy,
burgundy, forest green and dark gray (to be precise) and all,
weirdly, staring at me intently. I didn’t get a chance to wonder
about that because Mom flicked her wrist and then started down a
wide, wood paneled hall with more carving and intermittent pieces
of glossy, dark furniture.

She kept talking as she floated down the
hall, not looking like she was walking but drifting.

But doing it
quickly.

I rushed out behind her, the girls rushed
behind me.

“
It took some doing for your father to talk
The Drakkar into this, as you well know. You give him reason, he’ll
be gone. We can only hope he already hasn’t mounted his horse and
rode away.
Then
what would
we do?”

She turned and disappeared down a flight of
steps and I followed.

“
I should have known you would try
something like this. Your father
did
know. He warned me. If you anger The Drakkar…” she trailed
off, her tone dire, making it to the bottom of the stairs that had
a banister the entirety of which was an elaborately carved hunt
scene.

I made it to the bottom too to see Mom turn
to me on a whirl of heavy skirts, another woman already with her,
throwing over her shoulders a long, lustrous cloak made of dark
brown pelts of some fur.

“Well!” she snapped. “If you anger The
Drakkar, who knows what will happen to the realm?”

“Uh –” I started.

“I’ll have none of it!” she retorted
sharply, having closed a frog at her throat, she tore a pair of
gloves out of a hovering woman’s hand and whirled again, gliding
quickly to the door while pulling them on. “To the sleigh!” she
ordered.

Sleigh?

I felt something heavy settle on my
shoulders and looked down.

The four girls were encasing me in a cloak
of dazzling white, furry pelts that was so long, the bottom, which
was a hem of what looked like tails tipped with dove gray fur,
skimmed the floor. One girl stood in front of me and shoved the
furred, tall collar of the cloak up my neck and it went so high, it
covered my earlobes. She deftly and swiftly closed the frogs that
went from chin to just below my breasts as two girls at either side
of her reached through some slits in the fur and pulled out my
hands. Then they shoved a pair of elegant, winter white suede
gloves on them, the inside of which was a soft, plush fur that felt
like rabbit.

Then they started pushing me to the
door.

“
Sjofn,” one whispered to me as we went,
“if that is you or if it isn’t, I must tell you that your trunks
have been packed. They’ve been loaded on your sleigh. We did the
best we could.” She stopped me for just a moment, looked up at me
with what appeared to be sad but searching eyes then she whispered,
“If you are our Sjofn, or not, but mostly if you are ours,
please
try,
at least,
to be happy. And if you are not, we wish you the best of luck on
your adventure.”

I blinked at her then opened my mouth to ask
a question but she shoved me out the door into the freezing cold
air. I saw a deep red sleigh with a coat of arms painted on the
back sides and curlicue trim. It had two black horses at the front.
Mom was sitting in the back against a high, button-backed seat
covered in what looked like black suede and a man in a cloak and
furry hat was sitting on an elevated seat some ways in front of
her.

Before I knew it, I was rushed down the
steps of the building I was in and up the steps of the sleigh, the
small door closed behind me and I hadn’t gotten my bearings yet
when Mom’s hand snaked out, grabbed mine, she yanked me to sitting
and threw a heavy, fur blanket over our laps.

“Go!” she snapped at the driver and off we
went and we didn’t do it slowly.

I turned to her, taking in her beloved
profile, gripping her hand in mine and opening my mouth to call to
her name when she snatched her hand from mine and turned her head
to look to the side.

“Atticus is likely livid,” she noted then,
“Would that I’d given him a son.”

I blinked at the back of her head.

Uh…
ow.

“Mom,” I whispered.

“
Quiet, Sjofn, I must prepare in case The
Drakkar has stormed out. I must try to plan what I will do to stop
your father from throttling you.” Her head turned slowly to me and
she pierced me with her ice blue eyes which were, even in the
torchlight,
icy
. “Or,
perhaps, this time I won’t bother,” she remarked
frostily.

Ow
again.

“Uh –” I mumbled and she lifted a gloved
hand.

“
Quiet!” she ordered and turned her head
away. “The one time she can do something to help her father, help
her mother, help her
country
instead, yet again, my Sjofn creates a
nightmare.”

Oh jeez.

Something was not right. I really needed to
read that note.

We swiftly slid through the town or city
like place and then came to a bone-jarring stop in front of a big
building. I was so wrapped up in what was happening, and the fact
that it didn’t seem good, I didn’t pay much attention nor did I
have the time to pay much attention. Without delay, Mom threw off
the blanket, took my hand and dragged me from the sleigh and then
we were out of the cold and in a somewhat warm building lit softly
with a huge number of candles everywhere.

I looked around at what appeared to be some
kind of vestibule as more women, different ones this time, came
hurriedly toward Mom and I and Mom asked sharply, “The
Drakkar?”

“He is still here, your grace,” one of the
women taking her cloak and gloves mumbled.

Your grace?

Your grace?

Okay, I should have gotten it before, what
with the crowns and all, but it appeared my mother might be
royalty.

Which would mean I was too.

Holy moly!

Two women were divesting me of my gloves and
cloak as my mother announced, “I will make haste in taking my seat.
He will know we’ve arrived if I do. Prepare her instantly.”

Then she was off.

I blinked at her back.

Then I blinked when a bundle of long,
delicate twigs was thrust into my arms and I stared down at them.
Most of their length was straight with little knots in the wood but
the ends were curved and twirly. That was weird but the bark was
weirder. They looked like they’d been sprayed by glitter but on
closer inspection they hadn’t.

They glittered naturally.

Whoa. Wow!

The ends of the twigs were bound tight with
winter white and ice blue ribbons and there was no big bow to
finish but the ends were tucked neatly away.

I hadn’t yet processed the bundle in my arms
or why it was there when I was pushed gently to stand in front of
two double doors and when I was, I looked up and around me.

“Good luck, my Winter Princess,” one of the
girls whispered, giving my upper arm a reassuring squeeze then she
took off.

What? Winter princess?

Oh my God!

I
was
royalty and apparently my mother and father were queen and
king.

Holy moly!

I stood there, alone and stunned at this
news when it hit me I was alone and maybe had a second to find out
what the fuck was going on.

I held the twigs in the crook of one arm
like a beauty pageant contestant and dug the paper out of my
cleavage with the other hand. Awkwardly but quickly unfolding it
with one hand, I opened it and saw with some shock, and not a
little alarm, that not much was written on it.

Then I took the two seconds it took to read
it.

Seoafin,

Tonight, you marry The Drakkar. In the
ancient tongue, this means The Dragon.

Good luck,

Sjofn

Oh shit.

I’d been played.

Oh shit! I’d been played!

Before I could freak out or, I didn’t know,
maybe turn tail and run, the double doors swung wide and I saw my
father was stomping purposefully toward me. At the same time, an
orchestra struck up pounding a dramatic swell of music as beyond my
father I saw what looked like the enormous sanctuary of a church
filled to bursting with people all of whom were standing and
turning to me.

Nope, it wasn’t an
oh shit
moment.

It was an
oh fuck
moment.

Dad made it to me, snatched the paper out of
my hand, crinkled it quickly into a ball and tossed it away. Then
he grabbed my hand firmly, tucked it in the crook of his arm at the
same time jerking my body close to his side and he tipped his head
down to me.

“Pleased you could make it, Sjofn,” he
growled.

Then without delay he started to march me
down the aisle.

The Wedding

Okay, okay, okay, it appeared I was getting
married.

Shit.

To a man known as “The Dragon”.

Shit!

Try, at least, to be
happy,
that girl had
said to me.

I didn’t think that boded well.

Enjoy The Drakkar. I think you
will and more, I think
he
will enjoy
you
,
the lady who
could jump from a two story building had said.

That didn’t bode much better, as
in,
at
all.

I clutched my father’s arm as we walked down
an aisle that seemed to be as long as a football field (but wasn’t
but it was still freaking long) and I wished that I could
concentrate on being with my Dad for the first time in fifteen
years but I couldn’t. There was a sea of people all standing, all
smiling at me or watching me with interest in their eyes and
happiness on their faces.

I took them in as the music washed over me
and my father marched me quickly forward.

Crap, I was getting… freaking…
married.

Okay, Finnie,
I said to myself, sucking in
breath,
take
stock.

Dad was at my side, he was alive and except
for the somewhat strange outfit he was wearing (dark brown leather
shorts, very high, dark brown leather boots, a thick but gorgeous
dark red turtleneck sweater, a leather band at a slant around his
chest crusted with gold inlaid with rubies, a fur cloak attached to
the band that hung on a slant on his back and a big, gold crown
with rubies and diamonds, much like Mom’s but masculine, on his
head) was walking me down an aisle.