Midnight Soul (13 page)

I remained silent.

“Doc’s comin’ later,” he told me.

I tipped my head the best I could as it was
resting on my arms.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

I was not.

“Fine,” I bit out.

That got another curl of his lips.

“Right then, Frannie. See you later.”

Stop calling me that appalling name!
my mind screamed.

My mouth said nothing.

I should have said something. I should have
even screamed my thoughts at him.

But since I didn’t, he was open to shift
closer and bend so near he was able to brush his lips at my temple
at the same time he swept the hair from my neck.

“Rest good,” he whispered in my ear.

I fought new warmth in my belly, tilted my
eyes to catch his as he moved away and attempted yet again to
scorch him with a glare.

It glanced off him as his lips quirked, he
turned and I watched his arse in another, more faded-blue pair of
his attractive other-world trousers.

When he disappeared beyond the door, I tilted
my eyes so far to the side, I could see the ceiling.

“If I promise to be the soul of charitability
and kindness, will you release me of my torment?” I asked the gods,
any of them, I didn’t care which one was listening.

“What’s that, Lady Franka?” Josette
called.

“Nothing,” I muttered, foiled at every turn,
including the fact I knew my maid was sitting by the fire in one of
the armchairs in my room, mending some of my clothing, thus she
would hear I was reduced to verbally begging the gods for a
reprieve.

Oh, but it was so much easier when no one
cared a whit. It’d only been hours when they did and I already knew
that as a certainty.

I sighed.

I stared at the pillow.

I considered making more promises to the gods
(but silently).

My mind wandered to Noc’s arse in his
trousers.

And thus, unbeknownst to me, I fell asleep
with a curl on my lips.

* * * * *

I woke suddenly, feeling strange.

I saw vague firelight glinting on my pillow
but the room was lit by naught else.

It was night.

I’d been sleeping.

Now I was awake.

Awake and I could see the shadow of a large
man sitting in a chair by my bed.

Disoriented but feeling alarm course through
me at this realization, my back raged with pain as I abruptly
pushed up to my forearms.

“Calm, Franka,” Frey’s voice came to me
quietly. “It’s only me.”

I tried to put a whip in my voice, but I was
drowsy and confused so it came only as a minor bite when I asked,
“And what, pray, are you doing sitting by my bed in the middle of
the night?”

“It’s barely eight in the evening.”

Blast my father and his abuses. I’d drifted
off after my (delicious, amazingly so considering what it was)
broth, bread and wine.

“I presumed you’d wake and then we could
talk,” Frey continued.

“I do hope you understand I’m really in no
mood,” I replied.

He leaned toward me, putting his elbows on
his knees, and ignored my assertion completely.

“I was wrong about you,” he told me
softly.

“You were not,” I returned briskly. “I am
precisely who you thought I was.”

“You realize the game is over?” he
inquired.

“I realize nothing of the sort, considering
there
was
no game,” I retorted. “I am Franka Drakkar now. I
was Franka Drakkar a week ago, two months ago, ten years ago.
Nothing has changed.”

“Everything’s changed.”

I could take no more.

“Frey, my darling cousin,” I started on a
drawl, “it seems I’ve procured one stubborn, annoying male in my
life for the foreseeable future. I’d very much appreciate it if you
didn’t double that number for I don’t even want the one I already
have.”

He again ignored me, something both the
stubborn, annoying males in my life were clearly very adept at
doing.

“I was under the impression your father was
dead.”

Ah yes, my father’s “death.”

A juvenile piece of conniving, that.
Unnecessarily dramatic. Although at the time I did find the lack of
grief expressed by the Houses at his “demise” rather humorous.

That said, it did allow my dearest papa to
achieve success in a variety of nefarious machinations, one of
which was continuing to rain abuse down on his two children with
great alacrity and no accountability.

I shrugged one shoulder minutely and held my
gaze aimed to his face, but dipped my voice lower as I shared, “You
know we Drakkars like our schemes, Frey.”

I saw his head bow in a nod.

Therefore I went on.

“Schemes are far easier to achieve if
perpetrated by a ghost.”

This was met with silence and I waited with
ill-patience as my cousin digested the nugget I’d granted.

He’d clearly done so when he spoke his
next.

“I wish you’d told me.”

That was not relayed in a quiet voice. Or a
soft one.

It was gentle and it was melancholy.

And, damn all the gods, I felt it touch my
heart.

As
I
was adept at doing, I triumphed
over the weakness of such a feeling.

“And how would that conversation have gone,
Frey?” I asked. “Perhaps the
first
time you accused me of
treason, I should have played that card by playing on your
sympathies. ‘Oh, but Frey, I’d never do that, not because I’m a
Drakkar and it’d be foolish beyond reason. But because, poor little
me, my father is fond of a lash and has been since I was wee.’”

“Derision is no longer a weapon you need to
use, Franka,” he shared.

“It’s served me well much of my life. I’ve
honed my talent with it quite keenly, so if it’s all the same to
you, I think I’ll keep it,” I rejoined.

I could not make his face out well in the
shadows and firelight, but he didn’t seem to be getting
annoyed.

If my eyes didn’t deceive me, it seemed he
was smiling.

“As you wish, cousin,” he murmured.
“Understanding what lies beneath the mask, it will surely cease to
be irritating and prove quite enjoyable.”

Things seemed to continue to get worse.

“I can call the elves, Franka,” he said low.
“Ask them to see to your back.”

The elves of our realm had healing powers
beyond comprehension, as evidenced by the fact they’d brought a
dead Lavinia back to life. It was lore the dead person needed to be
freshly dead for this to prove a successful, rather than a highly
disturbing endeavor (and thus the elves no longer did such a
thing). Luckily, Lavinia was only in that sad state for a few
hours.

And Frey had command of the elves.

But I thought
not
.

“My back will heal,” I declared.

“It will, but they can—”

“They’re mine,” I bit out. “I earned them in
a way you can’t comprehend and I’m keeping them, Frey. And with
respect, that’s the end of that discussion.”

He was silent for a moment and I felt his
contemplation.

But fortunately, he let that subject go.

“Do you need anything before I return to
Finnie and send Noc back to you?” he queried.

“I need you not to send Noc back to me,” I
answered.

There was a timbre to his voice that betrayed
his amusement when he returned, “Yes, I see this is going to prove
quite enjoyable.”

I fought gnashing my teeth.

Frey stood.

“Rest well, Franka. I’ll poke my head in
after the wedding tomorrow. See how you’re faring.”

“I await this visit with bated breath,
cousin,” I murmured sardonically.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Most amusing.”

I did not look but I feared he stood,
grinning down at me for a long moment (because he stood by my bed
for a long moment) before he finally bid me goodnight and took his
leave.

There it was.

Proof.

The gods had forsaken me.

I understood that from a wee girl but it
seemed since then I’d held on to a vein of hope.

That hope was dashed.

My cousin Frey
liked
me and found me
amusing.

Him and others besides.

I was a disgrace to my House.

Blast.

Get with the Program

Franka

“Is everything all right, my lady?” Josette
asked.

I turned my head from my contemplation of the
view outside the newly-installed window, in font of which my chair
was resting, and looked to my maid, trying not to be annoyed at her
hovering concern.

“Everything is just fine, Josette. Except
perhaps you can bring me my book?”

She jumped as if she’d been asleep and just
awoken before she dashed to the book sitting on the nightstand,
like procuring it was of grave import. Once this crucial task was
accomplished, she dashed directly to me.

“There you go,” she said, offering me the
slim volume.

“My appreciation,” I murmured tightly, taking
it.

“Anything else?” she inquired. “Do you feel
pain? Would you like me to brew some willow tea? Are your dressings
chafing? Would you like me to assist you back to the bed?”

“I’d like, my dear, some quiet and peace in
order to read,” I replied with forced composure.

“Yes,” she returned swiftly. “Of course. I’m
just in the other room should you need to call.”

As she had been for the last three days, only
a slight raise of the voice away.

I watched as she made her way to my
dressing-room door, a small antechamber of that room where her
narrow bed was located, but I stopped her before she vanished
behind it.

“Josette?”

She turned to me.

I continued, “We haven’t discussed it, but
I’d like for you to share how you knew to awaken Noctorno and take
him to the buttery.”

Her inquisitive look turned guarded and it
took a moment for her to answer.

As this moment passed I sought patience,
something of which I’d once had a profuse amount at my disposal.
Patience was important when one engaged in plentiful amounts of
intrigue.

Something I’d found slipping of late.

When I was on the cusp of prompting her, she
declared, “I sleep light.”

“This is not quite an explanation,” I noted
when she said no more.

“I’ve been in service almost all my life.
When my employers have need of me, night or day, I’m trained to be
awake and aware.”

“You’re an excellent maid, Josette. Are you
saying something woke you, you found my bed empty and went in
search of me?”

“Actually, you woke me, closing the door to
your room. I worried about you, your…well, state of mind
being…well…” She shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. The thing
is, I was worried so I followed you.”

How curious.

I hadn’t heard her. I hadn’t even sensed
her.

Then again, my mind had been on other
things.

“And thus you saw it all,” I remarked. “Or
heard it, when you weren’t bustling to go tell Master Noctorno what
was happening.”

She visibly swallowed.

I studied her and as I did so I watched her
anxiety escalate.

As noted, she’d been an excellent maid for
some time.

The past several days, however, she’d been
more.

Therefore, I found myself assuring her
softly, “I’m not angry with you, Josette.”

“He was…” she shook her head again, “Master
Noc was the only one I was certain would…help,” she finished
feebly.

“I’m certain you’re quite right,” I
replied.

She took a step toward me and stopped. “I’m
very pleased you’re not annoyed with me, Lady Franka. I
thought…when the subject came up, you’d…” she trailed off and
didn’t continue.

There was much about this to consider and I’d
most assuredly considered it over the last few days.

Namely, the filthy secret of Nils, Anneka,
Franka and Kristian Drakkar being out.

And the end of the domination, fear and
torment.

It was unexpectedly not easy to come to terms
with.

Considering my mother’s magic, and the life
I’d led where memories started with suffering in a way I knew
nothing else, I’d never pondered a life without Nils and Anneka
meting out their brand of ruthlessness. A life not living under the
cloud of it happening again, doing my best to escape it and finding
ways to keep safe from the minute I could.

I should have been relieved. Even joyous.

And yet I was not.

I felt a good deal of humiliation, but more
of shame with an underlying uneasiness.

Kristian, I’d learned (from Finnie during one
of her many visits), wanted to settle his wife and child after the
fright of Mother appearing, and then they were journeying to the
Winter Palace to see me. Valentine had offered to bring them there
much quicker, that was to say in an instant, but Kristian had
declined, fearing his young son’s reaction to such a
happenstance.

Though mostly, I’d decided, it was probably
that this offer was extended right after Valentine interrupted my
mother’s preparations so my brother was likely more concerned about
the state of mind of his family than travel plans.

It was highly unusual (and if they were to
journey by sleigh, which it seemed they were going to do, meaning
I’d be at the Winter Palace even longer than the queen decreed) but
I was keen for my brother’s visit.

It wasn’t unusual because I wished to see him
and ascertain if he was indeed well in mind and spirit.

It was unusual because I wished to talk with
him about
his
reaction to our lifelong misery coming to an
abrupt, unanticipated end.

Discussing my feelings was not something I
was adept at doing. That was to say, since I put a stop to Kristian
and I whispering together as children because we were repeatedly
punished for it, I’d never done it, not even with Antoine.