Fantasyland 01 Wildest Dreams(64)

I felt a headache coming on, not a real one, but a violent one nonetheless, so violent it would keep me in bed for about three weeks.

Maybe four.

Unfortunately, this kind of thing would probably incense my mother, who already clearly did not like me and my father, who I didn’t think liked me a great deal more because he’d barely said a word to me, few of the ones he’d spoken were nice and earlier he had barely even looked at me.

I dropped to then I curled up on the lounge as these things moved through my brain.

Shit.

I tucked my hands under my cheek on the armrest and watched Alyssa disappear out of the room carrying a flash of extraordinary ice blue satin, the fullness of it I could not see.

But it was extraordinary ice blue satin that likely was an extraordinary ice blue gown that, normally, I would be in fits of excitement to see.

At that moment I absolutely was not.

I closed my eyes, deciding I needed Penelope.

I also needed to find out what the witch named Agnes needed to tell me so pressingly.

And I also needed to figure out why the idea of Frey sleeping with one of my maids hurt so damned much.

Shit.

Then I decided not to think of why Frey’s sexual antics hurt and, indeed, not to think about Frey at all.

Instead, I decided to think of a nice hot bath, donning a probably extraordinary dress and then putting one foot in front of the other until I could actually get away with faking a headache, which would be around the time I was again alone with my husband. And that headache would be so intense, he’d need to leave me alone in my bed and go the fuck away until I had time to sort my shit out.





Chapter Thirteen


The Drakkar Will Rise





“I do not believe this,” King Atticus whispered to the night-filled window and Frey Drakkar turned his eyes from his king’s openly ravaged expression to look at his queen.

Queen Aurora had her gaze averted from Drakkar’s shrewd eyes, her expression hidden but what he could see of her face, it was carefully blank.

Neither reaction to their daughter’s grave actions was a surprise.

King Atticus didn’t often hide his emotions. He did not need to. He was king and those around him catered to his whims.

Queen Aurora was another story.

Atticus turned from the window, his openly wounded eyes finding Drakkar’s and he whispered, “This is… this is… this travel to another world… it is… it’s akin to –”

“Treason,” Aurora finished for her husband, her voice cold, emotionless and Atticus turned to his wife.

“Aurora, my love –”

She cut him off. “I told you, time and again, Atticus, I told you not to raise our girl as,” she leaned toward her husband, “a boy.”

Atticus’s jaw got tight. “I did not raise her as a boy. She simply enjoys those things, it’s her nature, and she enjoys being with her father doing them. But even so, that has nothing to do with it and you know it.”

“It doesn’t?” Aurora shot back and crossed her arms on her chest, turning fully to face her husband. “You always wanted a son. Always. And not having one, all her life she’s been taught as you would have taught a son, a future king. And that is to be headstrong and do whatever she can to get her own way, when, of course, she doesn’t naturally expect her own way. These, my love, are not traits of a girl. These are most assuredly the traits of a boy.”

“Aurora –” Atticus started, color rising in his face as his anger did the same but Drakkar was done.

“Does your conversation, at this point, have any meaning?” he asked and his king and queen turned eyes to him. “Princess Sjofn has done it and in so doing she betrayed her parents, which means she betrayed her king, queen and country, the House of Wilde and she betrayed me. I’m sure we’re all agreed that this action is unforgiveable.”

Both king and queen stared at him and Drakkar was surprised to see the flash of pain in his king’s eyes was mirrored, though hidden far more quickly, in his queen’s.

They loved their daughter. Although everyone knew this to be true of Atticus, that flash in Aurora’s eyes and the fact she had not been able to hide it meant she, too, cared deeply for her girl.

Atticus lifted his chin to Drakkar in assent. Aurora’s eyes drifted to the floor, her way to show she, too, agreed.

Drakkar went on. “There is more.”

Aurora’s eyes moved back to him. Atticus moved closer to his wife and stood beside her in front of his desk. Once there, he leaned into a hand.

“More?” Atticus prompted.

Drakkar nodded. “I have had a message from the elves.”

Both husband and wife’s gazes grew sharper and the tension in the room, already wound tight, stretched taut.