Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams(153)

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 against you which means they collaborated against their country. The crown survived and it is our duty to sit and watch as a symbol of their failure and the strength of Lunwyn as they hang.”

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.”

“It is not unheard of for such gossip to spread about the royals,” Frey noted. “Indeed, it’s commonplace for such talk.”

“You are correct,” she nodded and handed my cup to me after pouring in a splash of milk. “But considering the dramatics of assassination attempts and your forthrightness about your regard for one another, this talk has become extreme.”

“Extreme how?” I asked and Mother handed Atticus his coffee then turned back to pouring and answering.

“Minstrels sing of you, storytellers weave tales, it is not just the talk that is sweeping the land. This is all building to extremes, creating legend.”

Ho boy.

“I do not understand why this would cause you both alarm,” Frey remarked. “This, too, is not unusual.”

Mother sat back with her coffee and Father took it from there.

“You are correct, Drakkar,” he stated. “But you are The Frey, The Drakkar and therefore revered. Your union   with Finnie heralds continued peace and prosperity for Lunwyn and was already anticipated greatly. The fact that your match appears a splendid one founded in deep affection has served in a short time to romanticize your story to extremes. And…” he paused and held Frey’s eyes, “it makes those who would conspire against you and Finnie, not so much Lunwyn, but instead a love match that is already, even after only a few short months of you being wed, nearing legend, it makes them individuals that inspire more than disgust and anger but extreme loathing.”

“The inns are full,” Aurora put in and I looked to her. “Those citizens with empty rooms have let them out and it is reported there is a large camp that has formed around the gallows just outside Snowdon filled with people who have travelled far but who could not find accommodation within the city.”

“Bloody hell,” Frey growled, taking his arm from around me, his ankle from his knee and leaning forward to set his cup and saucer down with a clatter.