“Listen to me, Finnie, concentrate on me,” he urged and I nodded, staring in his eyes as he kept holding me tight. “I will not allow you to be harmed, my men won’t and your father’s men won’t.” His arms gave me a tight squeeze. “You will not be harmed, love. I’ll not allow it. If it is your uncle, I don’t know why he announced his intentions in this way for those men were not skilled. But I will find out and we will deal with this, your father and I. In the meantime, you will never be harmed; you will not even be touched. I promise you that.” I kept staring at him and said nothing so he whispered, “Do you believe me?”
“I’ve never seen a man die, Frey,” I whispered back and he closed his eyes.
Then he opened them and said softly, “Yes you have, Finnie. Remember when our engagement was announced? An attempt was made on your life then. You dispatched the assassin yourself at the steps of your Winter Palace.” His arms gave me a squeeze. “Remember?”
I stared into his green-brown eyes, stunned at this news, news Sjofn should have shared with me, all of this news Sjofn should have totally fucking shared with me way the fuck before we even made our deal but even as this freaked me out, scared me to death and pissed me right the fuck off, I found it in myself to answer quietly, “Oh yeah, right. It was… unpleasant so I blocked it out.”
He nodded before saying, “Because of that, my wee one, I’m sorry you saw that tonight. If it were to happen again, my men and I will do our best to shield you from seeing it so you experience no further…” his eyes held mine before he finished, “unpleasantness.”
“That would be good,” I replied softly.
His lips tipped up slightly before they moved in to kiss my forehead.
When he moved back, I asked, “Is that how you knew this was going to happen, I mean, if an attempt was made before?”
He shook his head but said, “I do not know how your uncle’s mind works and do not wish to know. What I do know is that I would not put anything passed him. Though, that said, I will admit to being surprised if he has made this decision or anyone has done so if it is not Baldur. When the last assassin was dispatched, an assassin neither my men nor your father’s could successfully trace back to your uncle, or anyone, your uncle declared outrage at this action and we had to pretend we believed his indignation on behalf of his niece. But both your father and I publicly promised retribution should another attempt be made and we both vowed to ride in war against anyone if their motives were political should they actually succeed.”
I felt my body tense and I breathed, “Succeed?”
His arms gave me a squeeze. “This will not happen, Finnie.”
“But, what if it –”
Another squeeze then, “It will not happen, my love.”
“I know, but what if –”
His face dipped close to mine and his voice was quiet but low and fierce when he said, “It will not for you will never be far from my side. It is a measure of a man, my wife, how he cheats in cards. And it is a measure of a man, any man, be he married to a pub wench or a princess, how he cares for his bride. I am a Drakkar, my measure is different than any man’s and there are many facets to that but one of them explains why I turn away without a thought from those whose lifeblood seeps into the snow, those who moved with intent to harm my bride and I won’t think of them, ever. I will only turn my mind to how I can best care for my bride and that now includes undermining any threat that may loom for you and I vow to you, my princess, if it means my own life, this will not happen.”
I stared into his eyes. Then I whispered, “Okay,” because really, what else could I do? He sounded pretty freaking serious.
His eyes shifted from serious to soft and then they smiled.
Then he repeated, “Okay.”
I sucked in an unsteady breath.
Then I said, “Though, um… just to say, if you’re going to vow to keep me safe I’d kinda like you to vow to keep you safe too.” His soft eyes started to warm and I rushed on, “You know, because… well, who’ll chop the wood and lug it into the house if you’re assassinated or something?”
The soft warmth of his eyes took on another smile and he muttered, “My wife does not like carrying wood.”
“It isn’t my favorite chore,” I admitted. “My time is better spent baking pies.”
The smile reached his mouth before he murmured, “Then I best stay around to do it.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He moved his head and brushed his nose against mine.
Then he whispered, “Then I’ll vow to keep me safe too…” he paused, “so I can be around to chop wood.”