He could blame himself for lack of vigilance.
Aurora had said, In your fire to avenge what’s happened tonight under your nose…
And she was not wrong.
Bloody hell, she was not wrong.
Drakkar put a fist to his hip and a hand to the back of his neck, dropped his head and studied his boots.
He should have seen it coming, this was painfully true.
But he would not make that same mistake again.
The door opened, Drakkar lifted his head and saw that Annar stood in its frame. “I have the heads. Do you want them brought here?”
Drakkar looked behind him at the blood on the stone floor of the buttery.
Then he looked at his man. “No. Take Ravenscroft to the library, Lazarus to the study, Njord to the drawing room and Sinclair I’ll speak to in the sitting room. Then get a maid to fetch my clothes. I’ll want our guard prepared to leave within the hour.”
Annar lifted a chin and closed the door on his way out.
Drakkar took a few moments to rub the tension out of his neck.
Then he dropped his hand and walked to the library.
Chapter Twenty
The Finnie
The riders on their mounts moved through the frozen forest swiftly and throughout the journey they did not relent in their pace for the sake of their steeds.
Before we left, Frey had suggested I try to sleep but we were going at a fast canter and the jarring pace alone would have kept me awake.
But it was the events of that night that actually kept me awake.
Unlike our last, during this journey, Frey did not talk. He did not share tidbits of information. He simply held me close and leaned into me as Tyr took us through the moonlit forest.
Leaving me to my thoughts.
And I took his silence as indication he wished to be left to his.
I was told that Sudvic was a six hour sleigh ride if the conditions were right and, considering the not-so-good company of my thoughts, I was glad that it didn’t take us that long. I had no idea how long it actually took but we were not on a road; we were off track, in the forest proper and likely taking a more direct route.
The entire time we rode, my mind was awash with images and memories of that night, the last two weeks and everyone in the Palace and at the Gales that I’d come into contact with. None of them seemed like assassins to me but I wouldn’t know and assassins, I would guess, didn’t have identifying characteristics. Or, at least, not good ones.
My parents had come to visit me prior to Frey and I leaving and I guessed this meant Frey trusted them enough to allow it. As they looked like my real parents and I’d grown to know them, not to mention the fact that both were openly concerned for me (yes, even Mother), I couldn’t believe they would have anything to do with a plot to murder me. And in the end, I had no choice but to act exactly what I was, and that was terrified, so I welcomed their reassuring presence.
Then we were away in the cold dead of the night, Frey and I and my guard and I had nothing but the moonlight, the snow, the trees and my thoughts to occupy me for hours.
And therefore, I was beside myself with relief when we suddenly came out of the never ending forest.
Then, as what lay before me shoved out the dark thoughts and registered in my brain, I sucked in breath.
We had emerged on a high rise and spread before us was a city and not a small one for its sprawl stretched far.
But this wasn’t what made me pull in breath.
The twinkling lights of the city covered the valley and to the left blinked partially up a rise that was not a mountain in comparison to those around Fyngaard, but it was a very tall hill.
However, to the right there was a bay, its dark, night water so calm it was glassy and its surface was dotted with huge, awe-inspiring three and four-mast galleons that were at anchor. More still were docked at the wharf. Considering the hour, they were lit with few lanterns (though those closer to the wharf had more illuminated) and all these cast long reflections across the bay.
It was freaking spectacular.
Although they’d run for hours, it was as if the horses sensed their journey was coming to an end, they wanted it to be done and their pace picked up as the riders in our party forged across the snow toward a well-trod road, then down the road to the valley and into the city.
When we hit it, glancing around and taking it in, I saw immediately that Sudvic couldn’t be any more different from Fyngaard.
The streets were cobbled, not paths of snow packed trails. The snow had been cleared and piled high into lots between the buildings that seemed to be there for that sole purpose. And the sound of the horses’ hooves pounding against the stone, something I’d never heard in real life, was way cool.
The buildings weren’t quaint and homey. Even so, they were cool in an olde worlde, higgledy-piggledy way. They were narrow and tall, one built right against the next with the roads winding through them showing there was no city planning whatsoever. Some of the buildings were four stories tall, others two or three. Some had peaked roofs, others slanted or dormered. All had square-paned windows and there were a number of windows I saw shuttered against the night chill. It was clear this city was highly populated, not simply from the dense pack of the buildings but also since it was the wee hours of the morning and there were people out bustling along the wood-plank, snow-cleared sidewalks or standing at the fire drums that were lit on street corners.