Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams (37 page)

People had been arriving for the Gales for
days and, normally, Sjofn would be amongst them as a number of them
were guests at the Palace. For the past three days, Mother and
Father had both been attending large breakfasts, luncheons and
dinners with Father taking meetings in between.

But to protect me, Frey had made the
decision I would not be involved in these and, further, stringently
kept separate from the guests primarily because most of the people
I was supposed to know and I didn’t. He didn’t want to be away from
my side when these things happened and he had no intention of
attending engagement after engagement. And since Father and
Mother’s attention would be turned to hosting their guests, it was
without a doubt I’d flub up, repeatedly. Therefore, guests were
informed (not untruthfully) that Frey and I were otherwise engaged
(the inference not lost on anyone, I was sure) and thus not
participating in these events but that we would attend the
Gales.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the
world, having smiling and knowing glances coming my way from every
direction as my husband and I made our way to the hall on the third
floor. Especially since we were two hours late, something which
spoke volumes but… whatever. It would have been worse having to
pretend I knew people and fumbling through conversations with old
friends and acquaintances that were nothing of the sort.

As we alighted the stairs, I saw I was not
wrong about the tables in the hall. Huge, round vases stuffed full
of spiked white gladiolas festooned the center of each table all of
which were laid with silver trays covered in food. They did not
have vol-au-vents, mini-quiches and meatballs on a stick. They had
(amongst many other things) what looked like puff pastry stuffed
with melted cheese, massive tiger prawns baked with slivers of
prosciutto rolled around them, corners of thin toast covered thick
in pâté and gherkins sliced lengthwise, crackers covered in what
looked like cream cheese and caviar and hunks of meat and fish with
small crystal glasses filled with tiny silver, two-pronged forks
set beside them. And this didn’t even get into the trays of
bite-size pastries and cakes on offer.

So, Atticus was right, the same foods but
theirs were more posh.

Everything looked so delicious, seeing it, I
was suddenly ravenous.

Frey, however, must have had a snack for he
didn’t even pause at a table nor did he glance at one. He made a
bee-line straight to Mother and Father.

Upon approach, I saw Father was wearing much
what he wore to my wedding but without the sweater and instead a
shirt in deep red with a cravat like Frey’s. Mother was wearing a
long, deep red dress but the red of the material melted into gold
at her hem. Her wrists, neck, fingers and ears were dripping with
gold and rubies not to mention the ruby-crusted gold clips in the
shapes of dragonflies holding up her elegant hairstyle.

Taking them in, tall, lean and regal, I
noted not for the first time they both still had it and I knew
without a doubt if my parents had lived to their age, they would
too.

This felt nice.

When Frey and I arrived at them, cheek
touches were exchanged and before I knew what she was about, Mother
installed me firmly at her side, that was to say firmly and
closely
to her side. Frey took his
place by Father.

At first, this surprised me that I was not
standing with Frey. However, for the next hour, I would get it.
This was because we were almost immediately descended upon by a
wave of people. And as these people approached, chatted then moved
on, Mother monopolized any conversation that involved me. If a
question was directed to me, she answered it. If a comment was
required of me, she prompted it. She interspersed names liberally
while she spoke as well as deftly adding personal pieces of
information or things such as, “Oh, Sjofn, you remember when…” And
any time we had a lull in the action, she’d whisper in my ear,
giving me tidbits about people coming or going so if I did speak, I
wouldn’t open my mouth and insert my foot.

Seriously, she was good.

And seriously, it felt nice to know that she
and Frey (and maybe Father) arranged this to take care of me.

And after awhile, I started having fun. A
maid brought us flat-bowled, etched crystal glasses of cold, dry,
refreshing, delicious champagne and others moved around us offering
trays of food. I partook of both freely (avoiding unidentifiable
meat, of course) and started to pay attention to the color of
dresses or cravats and linking them with Houses. The clothing was
opulent, the jewels even more so, hairstyles and makeup elaborate,
men’s mantles were everything from leather to full on fur and the
Gales were obviously a place to see, be seen and show right the
hell off.

It was freaking awesome.

Mother, Father, Frey and I didn’t move for
an hour and by this time I had two glasses of champagne, had
stuffed myself with every piece of food I could get my mitts on and
was feeling it was high time to dance when it happened.

And luckily I had a chance to prepare when
Aurora’s fingers tensed into the inside of my elbow. I looked to
her face then to where she was looking and saw a dark-haired woman
wearing a phenomenal blood red gown on her voluptuous, immaculately
cared for body, her eyes a familiar brown-green and at her side was
a tall, dark-haired man who once was probably very handsome but who
now had a serious gut and the skin of his face showed he either
drank too much, smoked too much, didn’t eat the right foods or all
three… in abundance.

Frey’s parents.

Shit.

“Eirik and Valeria Drakkar, Frey’s parents,”
Aurora whispered quickly in my ear, confirming my guess. “You’ve
met them several times in your life, including twice while you were
betrothed to The Drakkar, the other times at the Bitter or Solar
Gales. They attended your wedding but you did not converse with
them prior to Drakkar taking you away.”

“Well!” Valeria Drakkar exclaimed upon
arrival which was approximately a millisecond later, not hesitating
a millisecond longer to grasp both my upper arms and pull me away
from Aurora and to her to touch her cheek in turn to each of mine.
Then she leaned away, pushing me back and took me in without
removing her hold on me. “She wears the color of Drakkar!
Excellent!”

“
Move aside, move aside,” Eirik Drakkar
shoved in and did the same, except (gross!) he kissed my
neck
on each side then shoved me
back and took me in and the way he did made my stomach roil and my
eyes slide to the side to see Frey had moved to stand facing the
huddle rather than at my father’s side and not only was his jaw
hard, his eyes were too and if that wasn’t enough, a muscle ticked
in his cheek.

Ho boy.

It appeared that not only did Frey not care
for his parents, he actively didn’t like them.

It also appeared, since neither Eirik nor
Valeria had greeted him nor even looked at him, neither had an
ounce of interest in their son.

“
Look at my new daughter!” Eirik stated
loudly, taking my attention back to him then he leaned into me and
proved that firstly, he’d partaken much of the food and whatever
he’d eaten had an abundance of onion, or, more likely, he’d eaten
an abundance of something with onion, secondly, this was mixed with
an alcohol smell that was
not
champagne and thirdly, this mingling of smells was vastly
unappealing. “I must tell you, my lovely, lovely girl, I do not
blame my son for dragging the likes of
you
through the Dwelling of the Gods and being away
into the night. I cheered with the rest when I saw it for, if I was
twenty years younger, I would do the same or, better yet, take you
to the Vallee’s study and have you on his desk!”

Uh… did he just say that?

Major
ick!

Not to mention, major
rude.

Before I could say a word, not that I had
a word to say to
that
, Frey
spoke.

“I’ll thank you to unhand my bride.” His
voice was low and unhappy but he didn’t wait for his father to
comply. He moved in front of his mother, Atticus and Aurora and,
with an arm around my waist, he pulled me firmly out of his
father’s grasp.

Thank God.

“Ah, my Frey,” Valeria said softly, “always
so prickly, especially when it came to his belongings.” She leaned
into me and wagged a finger in my direction. “Never shared with his
brothers, our Frey. Always so possessive.”

I will note at this point that she
still
hadn’t greeted her
son.

“
It’s repulsive, with your words, that
you’d insinuate that I should share
my wife
with my father, Valeria,” Frey remarked, still in
his low, unhappy voice.

“All in the family,” she replied, smiling a
smile that not only didn’t reach her eyes but was cold as
Christmas.

Uh… ick again.

Already, I did
not
like these people more than I suspected I wouldn’t
like them knowing that Frey didn’t and the not insignificant fact
that they’d never given him any presents.

Eirik, unfortunately, butted in, indicating
he had a one track mind and it wasn’t a nice track. “My boy, in
dragging her out of the Dwelling, you robbed me of every
father-in-law’s right to his dance with his new daughter-in-law at
the celebration which, I might add, includes a kiss at the end.
This,” he leered at me, “I’ll be taking tonight at my earliest
opportunity.”

Okay, it was safe to say I was not looking
forward to
that.

“You’ll not dance with my princess and
you’ve already touched your mouth to her two more times than I find
comfortable,” Frey stated, staring down his nose at a father.

I leaned into Frey, pleased beyond reason
that he helped me dodge
that
bullet.

“Killjoy,” Eirik muttered then he focused
again on me in order to comment. “I was surprised you weren’t with
us today, Sjofn. In the past, you’ve more than enjoyed
participating in the royal hunts.”

“Well –” I started but Mother got there
before me.

“Sjofn and I had an important errand to run
in town and she and Frey are travelling so she was busy preparing
to take her leave on the morrow,” Aurora neatly entered the
conversation to explain.

“Hmm,” Valeria murmured, her familiar but
nowhere near as warm eyes on me, “rumor has it she’s lost her touch
with her bow.” At these words, my body got tight, Frey’s got tight
against me and I felt Aurora and Atticus get tense too. “I thought
that might be it,” she finished, watching me so closely, kid you
not, I started to squirm.

Then Eirik bizarrely and
unbelievably
coarsely put in, “It’s the talk
of the Gales so everyone knows he’s been doing naught much else but
thrusting between her legs for days, wife, and this undoubtedly
means
my
son has been
going at her
for weeks
.
Drakkar seed, always powerful, stuffed full of it, it causes even
our princess, a skilled huntress, to lose her touch with her
bow.”

At these words, words which should not be
spoken at an elegant ball, or, perhaps,
ever,
I gasped. And I knew my guess was accurate for
Mother also gasped, Father, jaw clenched and eyes hard, moved
forward but Frey had had enough.

I knew this when his hand shot up, fisted
tightly in his father’s cravat and then he yanked his father toward
him and up to his toes, bending his neck only slightly, he got nose
to nose with him.

Then he growled, “Thus ends the family
reunion.”

Then he let his now red-faced father loose
with a rough push and Eirik stumbled back two steps, running into a
young woman in a lovely kelly green gown before he righted
himself.

But I had little opportunity to watch. Frey
had his hand on my elbow and he was moving me away.

And he did so while muttering acerbically to
his mother, “As ever, a unique pleasure.”

Then without a backward glance at his father
but a tip of his head to Aurora and Atticus, he led me firmly to
the ballroom then equally firmly off to the side where there was a
small patch of free space. There he stopped us, drew me close and
looked down at me.

I looked up at him and saw on the scale of
how angry Frey could be he looked to be at around twelve.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Shaken by what had just happened, I replied
honestly if not helpfully, “Your Dad’s kind of a dick.”

“And a ‘dick’ would be?” Frey queried
tersely.

“An asshole. A fuckwad. A douchebag. A
screaming jerk,” I explained and Frey scowled a ferocious scowl I
could take because it wasn’t directed at me.

Then he stated, “You do know I don’t know
what any of those are either except, possibly, the first.”

“
None of them are good,” I clarified then
stressed, “
at all.
”

Frey kept scowling at me and that was when I
tardily realized I should do something to make him feel better
instead of what I was doing, fueling the fire. So I moved in close
and circled his middle with my arms. I leaned back as his arms
curved around me and looked up at him.

“That said, I’m fine,” I whispered.

I saw his anger ratchet down to about a five
before he whispered back, “Good.”

“Though,” I said, cautiously sharing, “your
Mom kind of scares me.”