Wildest Dreams by Kristen Ashley
She meant nothing to her.
And yet, not once but too many times these past nearly five months, Seoafin Wilde’s adventures reached across the worlds and tugged Valentine from her slumber.
She stared at the smoke and while doing so it came to her that it had been quite some time since she herself had an adventure.
And even longer since she’d delighted in the pleasurable pastime of meddling.
And truthfully, this Raider, Valentine thought, had it coming.
Though she had to admit, she did wish such a specimen would be open to her penchants. A toy such as him would be… she drew in a wistful breath… delicious.
Alas, such as him, she had found, didn’t tend to like the way Valentine played.
She stared at her crystal ball deliberating.
Then she decided she’d give him time, not much but perhaps enough to rectify his mistakes and she did this having little doubt that gorgeous creature could do it.
If he didn’t…
Well, Valentine would.
Every girl deserved true bliss.
No, this was not true. Many of today’s tedious girls did not. The mere existence of boy bands proved this fact irrefutably.
But girls like Seoafin Wilde did.
Valentine sighed as she shook off her uncharacteristically soft, romantic thoughts.
She was losing her touch.
She needed to find it again.
Her thoughts moved to the young, naked, firm, male form asleep in her bed and, in the dark, Valentine smiled her cat’s smile.
Then her fingertips skimmed the cold crystal again and the smoke vanished.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Measure of a Princess
Three weeks later…
With our usual posse of Frey’s men, Tyr galloped through Snowdon as I sat on the steed held tight to my husband’s front, watched the city go by and realized I was wrong.
Bellebryn was not the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.
Snowdon was.
Snowdon, the capital of Lunwyn and where my mother and father lived, was a city like Sudvic, huge and sprawling. But it was not skirting a bay and nestled in hills, it spread across a valley and up the sides of white, snowy mountains. Its tall, densely built buildings were made of white stone capped with snow covered roofs dripping sparkling icicles, their doors painted in dove grays, creams or the lightest blues or lilacs. Its winding roads were cobbled in creamy stones that, like Sudvic, had been cleared of snow. As we rode through the city, we passed many snow-blanketed parks from large and rambling, to small and square in which there were twinkling fountains, white monuments, grand cream-colored statues of the gods, dragons or past kings, queens, Drakkars or Freys and in one I saw an iced over pond where people were skating.
Frey told me (and I noted he was right as we rode over four bridges) there were three rivers snaking through the city. And as we rode over them or beside them I saw their water was glistening and clear, their banks shimmering with ice, their rock beds glittering as if covered in fairy dust. Over these rivers were arched, ornate, cream-colored bridges with tall white-painted streetlamps rising from the balustrades. One river was much larger than the other two and flowed from a valley between two mountains fed from, Frey also told me, the Winter Sea.
Unlike Sudvic, which seemed working class from what I had seen, and Fyngaard, which was entirely cosmopolitan, Snowdon had working class areas and the pubs, shops and businesses that tended to those classes as well as posh areas with the cafés, restaurants and shops that catered to the more affluent. You could easily assess the status of those who lived in the dwellings in the different areas, the tall, narrow buildings that were likely apartments or row houses of the lower classes and then, as we rode from the outskirts to the more elite inner city, the stately, extensive homes and even mansions with the crystalline frost on their windows and window boxes filled with carefully tended miniature evergreens.
And best of all, built into the side of the mountain and overlooking the entirety of the city was Rimée Keep, a frost-colored castle that somehow shimmered in the sun. It had an abundance of conical roofs that had long, thin, red and gold diamond-patterned pennants drifting across the sky attached to short flagpoles. These were over circular turrets of which there was also an abundance. The façade had stone-balustrade balconies and blinking, diamond-paned windows with shutters painted a gray so light it was almost indecipherable from white. The front of the Keep was landscaped with tall white-painted lanterns and taller, lush, long-needled fir trees. Leading up to what had to be three-story, arched, double doors was a sweeping staircase that looked to be carved from ice and up both sides were green, tapered miniature pine trees. And at the front of it all, even from far away I could see the massive, twinkling, five-tiered fountain with flowing, crystal clear waters.
The whole city with its white and cream stone, muted colors and evergreens all coated with glimmering snow and dripping with icicles looked like it had sprung up magically from the snow.
It was bloody fantastic.
We made it to the Keep (me, with my lips parted in shock at its beauty, Frey, probably not noticing it) and Frey led Tyr around the fountain as his men on their horses positioned themselves around the drive. It was then I stopped looking at the Keep and instead saw Mother and Father emerging from the double doors followed by my girls.
My heart squeezed and my mouth smiled huge.
Frey stopped Tyr and dismounted. Reaching up to grab hold of my waist, he pulled me down and the minute my feet touched the ground I dashed up the icy steps which were not, by the way, ice, I just didn’t know what they were.
Two steps down from my parents, I dropped into a full on curtsy and waited to hear my father mutter, “Rise, daughter,” then I shot to my feet, ran up the last two steps and threw my arms around him.
On impact, he rocked back on a foot and I knew he was surprised because he hesitated before his arms closed around me. But when they did, they did it tight.
“Missed you,” I whispered into his neck, holding on just as tight.
“And I you, my Finnie,” he whispered back on a light squeeze.
Then, still whispering, I told him, “I got a bulls-eye.”
His body stilled for a moment then he pulled back slightly, I did too and I looked up in his surprised but delighted eyes and felt my belly warm.
“Indeed?” he asked.
I nodded then leaned in and said quietly, “From thirty feet.” His eyes widened and I grinned then went on, “I only got the one but I’m definitely better. I can’t wait to show you.”
I saw a shadow pass over his face before he hid it, I felt a corresponding shadow pass through my mind but he quickly said, “And I cannot wait to see, daughter.”
Before I could ask after the shadow, I heard “Finnie,” and turned my head to Mother who was watching us with an expressionless face but soft eyes.
I moved from Atticus’s arms to Aurora’s as I heard the murmured greetings between Frey and Father.
Mother’s hug was not as tight but it was just as warm. I couldn’t say how she pulled that off; I could just say that she did.
“From what I could tell riding in,” I whispered in her ear, “we’ve got tons of shopping to do.”
Her arms went from around me but she didn’t let me go. Holding my biceps in a firm grip, she caught my eyes, her lips tipped up and her fingers squeezed.
“There is much I wish to show you,” she said softly. “And I look forward to doing it.”
I grinned at her, her lips tipped up more then her eyes flitted to Atticus and Frey and I saw a shadow pass over her face too as she let me go and I moved out of the way for Frey to lean in and touch her cheek with his bearded lips.
“We must go in, get you warm,” Father muttered, Mother nodded and they wasted no time turning and heading up the steps. And when I say wasted no time, I mean they looked to be hurrying.
Frey slid an arm along my shoulders and guided
I smiled back, gave them a low wave and whispered, “Hey ladies,” as we approached and their grins got broader. Then they dropped down in curtsies as we walked passed.
We made it through the double doors which were closed by a footman against the cold the minute my girls swept through. Then I took a look around and tried not to react to the beauty of the inside of Rimée Keep which impossibly rivaled the outside.
There was no dark wood here. There was no darkness at all. There were tons of windows through which the sun shone through. The walls and floors of the inside were made of the same frosted stone that strangely and magnificently glittered but inside there were carvings of pine boughs and cones in the stone, these could be seen around arched beams and at the casements of the windows. The vast slabs of stone that made up the floors were cut with thick pile carpets in mellow, muted colors all of which had a low sheen that I knew meant they were made of silk. Many of the walls were covered in enormous, intricate tapestries depicting mountain scenes or views of Snowdon or the Keep. The furniture was not heavy and dark like at the Palace but it was lacquered in an eggshell white, dripping carved lacework looking elegant and refined. And there was a wide stone staircase with a muted carpet runner and a carved stone balustrade, all of it curving up the side of a circular turret that rose right in the middle of the Keep.
I didn’t get a chance to take much in, however, for Atticus and Aurora were walking swiftly through the vast entry hall that seemed to sweep the Keep from side to side (and I was right about the front doors, the ceiling was at least three stories tall and vaulted with carved arches and latticework that were extraordinary, even at a glance). At the end of the hall, my parents turned and walked through another set of double doors.
Frey and I followed and then we were in a massive, elegant sitting room decorated in whites, creams and the palest of pale yellows. There was a fireplace with an elaborately carved exterior that was so big that I could lie inside with arms stretched over my head and toes pointed and my fingertips nor toes would touch the walls and I could surely stand in it without my head brushing the top. An enormous fire roared there as well as three space heaters having been dotted around the room, these made of iron, like the ones in Frey’s cabin on The Finnie, except they were enameled in cream, they were bigger and they were far more ornate. Between the heaters and the fireplace the entire room was cozy warm.
People entered with us and Mother and Father’s cloaks were taken by servants and Jocelyn and Bess had followed me to take my wool cloak, hat and gloves. The gentleman who took Atticus’s cloak waited beside Frey as he unstrapped the one he didn’t need to ward off the chill and handed it to the man.
“Coffee, please, and cakes,” Mother ordered, her servant nodded then she went on, “Close the door as you leave.”
I looked from a grinning Jocelyn and Bess who heard this, their smiles faltered and then they started to back out of the room and turned my eyes to Atticus and Aurora who both appeared tense. Then I looked up at Frey who I felt had tensed at my side. Then I felt his hand in the small of my back propelling me toward the two sweep-lined, graceful sofas upholstered in pale yellow damask that faced each other but ran perpendicular to the fireplace and were separated by a low, gleaming eggshell lacquered oval table.
“Is something amiss?” Frey asked quietly after we heard the doors close.
“Please, sit,” Father muttered and I looked back up to Frey who was studying my father.
Then he guided me to a sofa and we sat close together, Frey’s arm around my shoulders pulling me even closer and tucking me to his side. I leaned into him as he sat back and crossed one booted ankle on the other knee and Mother and Father sank into the sofa opposite us. But even close to my husband’s solid warmth, my parents’ behavior was beginning to freak me out.
“You’re anxious, Atticus,” Frey stated the obvious, “and your unease is causing the same in my bride. Tell us what’s happening.”
“You made haste from Sudvic,” Father replied strangely and Frey nodded.
“Indeed,” he confirmed. “We docked just late yesterday afternoon and rode swiftly, spending the night in Dalehavre and leaving early. Finnie was keen to see her parents.”
Father’s eyes moved to me so he could give me a warm smile before they went back to Frey, the warmth fled and he studied him a moment before he said, “We received word only this morning from the messenger you sent ahead that you were to arrive in Snowdon imminently. As you have actually arrived, I can see our return messenger did not meet you.”
Frey’s body got tighter when he returned, “We took the forest trails; they’re swifter.”
This was true. Frey, I was getting, didn’t bother with roads. He was not a man to waste time that didn’t need to be wasted and, unless there were sleighs involved, he always took the more direct routes. And our journey didn’t involve sleighs. Frey and my belongings would follow and likely not arrive for hours if not take until the next morning. Though, Kell had charge of the sleighs so, I figured, that man on land, anything went.
“This is unfortunate,” Aurora murmured.
I felt Frey’s impatience mount and my anxiety increased.
“Perhaps we can dispense with the mystery and you can explain why,” Frey suggested in his way where it was clear his suggestion was not a suggestion, as such.
Father looked Frey directly in the eyes and he did it in a way where I could tell he was avoiding mine which, obviously, made my anxiety increase even more.
Then he announced, “The executions commence at nightfall.”
I blinked and Frey’s body went solid.
Then he muttered, “Bloody hell.”
“Executions?” I whispered and felt Aurora’s eyes on me so I looked at her.
“The traitors, my dear,” she said softly. “Berg Enger, Hernod Greig and Viola Milstrom. In your absence, they were tried, found guilty and are sentenced to hang this eve.”
Oh shit.
“Our messenger rode out to warn you this was imminent and suggest you delay your arrival for a few days,” she went on. “It is unfortunate he did not succeed in this task.”
Unfortunate was not exactly the word I’d use. Still, I wasn’t quite certain why this was such dire news. Of course, executions were dire news seeing as they were executions but considering I wasn’t scheduled for the noose, I was a little concerned why they were being so careful with me.
“You rode through the city, I assume?” Atticus asked and to this, Frey grunted, “Of course,” which caused Father to pull in a breath and let it out in his own curse of, “Bloody hell.”
“What?” I asked but no one seemed to want to answer, even Frey which I did not take as good. Mother and Father were avoiding my eyes and when I glanced up at Frey I saw his jaw was tight like he was clenching his teeth. So I repeated, “What?”
Father finally looked at me and his face went soft before he lowered the boom. “It is our responsibility, my daughter, as sovereigns, to attend the executions of traitors to the crown.”
It was my turn to suck in breath and go solid as I stared at the king.
One could say this was not, in any way, the next adventure I had hoped for. Shopping with Mother in a new city, yes. Attending a play in one of the acclaimed theaters Snowdon had that Frey told me about, certainly. Taking Gunner up on his offer to teach me advanced maneuvers on a horse, definitely. And skating on that pond in that park was one I’d just added.
Witnessing an execution, uh… no.
“They conspired against the crown,” Mother put in gently and my horrified eyes slid to her, “we wear those crowns, Finnie, and every breath we take is a breath taken for Lunwyn. They collaborated
Oh God. I did not like this.
“If you had been away with your husband, this would have been excuse for you not to attend,” Father stated at this point, his eyes on Frey. “But you are now here and, as you rode through the city, it is without doubt that news is spreading like fire. With the people knowing Finnie is here, she will be expected to attend, indeed, many will assume that she’s here just in order to do so.”
Frey’s arm squeezed my shoulders as he muttered, “Gods damn it.”
“There is more you must know,” Aurora said quietly, Frey and I both got still again and the door opened, a servant bustling forward with an ornate, silver coffee service, exquisite china and a plate of beautifully decorated, delicious looking petite fours which I would have tucked into without delay at any other time but, obviously, not after I’d received the news that I’d have to watch three people hung from their necks until dead.
We all waited for the coffee and cakes to be arranged on the table and the servant to move out of the room and shut the door before Aurora leaned forward and started pouring at the same time talking.
“In your absence, especially considering that absence was just after a heinous plot unfolded that caused a woman to lose her life rather gruesomely, and that woman was supposed to be Finnie, talk has been sweeping all of Lunwyn.”
“What talk?” Frey asked and Aurora lifted her eyes to him as she handed him a cup and saucer.
“You and Finnie,” she answered, went back to pouring but said no more.
“Aurora,” Frey growled, clearly not happy to need to prompt her.
She sighed then replied, “As you know, Drakkar, it started with your wedding kiss then you dragging Finnie away only to disappear for weeks. Then, your reappearance for the Gales and your behavior there.” Her eyes moved to me as she started listing examples. “Finnie greeting you with such open enthusiasm after the hunt.” Her eyes moved back to Frey. “Your closeness at the Gales. And you disappearing again after the attempt was made on Finnie’s life, a clear indication you care deeply for her and will not hesitate to ensure her safety. All of this, every moment you both were together with an audience, was noted avidly and then passed on to any ear that would hear it even more avidly.”