Seriously, she was good.
And seriously, it felt nice to know that she and Frey (and maybe Father) arranged this to take care of me.
And after awhile, I started having fun. A maid brought us flat-bowled, etched crystal glasses of cold, dry, refreshing, delicious champagne and others moved around us offering trays of food. I partook of both freely (avoiding unidentifiable meat, of course) and started to pay attention to the color of dresses or cravats and linking them with Houses. The clothing was opulent, the jewels even more so, hairstyles and makeup elaborate, men’s mantles were everything from leather to full on fur and the Gales were obviously a place to see, be seen and show right the hell off.
It was freaking awesome.
Mother, Father, Frey and I didn’t move for an hour and by this time I had two glasses of champagne, had stuffed myself with every piece of food I could get my mitts on and was feeling it was high time to dance when it happened.
And luckily I had a chance to prepare when Aurora’s fingers tensed into the inside of my elbow. I looked to her face then to where she was looking and saw a dark-haired woman wearing a phenomenal blood red gown on her voluptuous, immaculately cared for body, her eyes a familiar brown-green and at her side was a tall, dark-haired man who once was probably very handsome but who now had a serious gut and the skin of his face showed he either drank too much, smoked too much, didn’t eat the right foods or all three… in abundance.
Frey’s parents.
Shit.
“Eirik and Valeria Drakkar, Frey’s parents,” Aurora whispered quickly in my ear, confirming my guess. “You’ve met them several times in your life, including twice while you were betrothed to The Drakkar, the other times at the Bitter or Solar Gales. They attended your wedding but you did not converse with them prior to Drakkar taking you away.”
“Well!” Valeria Drakkar exclaimed upon arrival which was approximately a millisecond later, not hesitating a millisecond longer to grasp both my upper arms and pull me away from Aurora and to her to touch her cheek in turn to each of mine. Then she leaned away, pushing me back and took me in without removing her hold on me. “She wears the color of Drakkar! Excellent!”
“Move aside, move aside,” Eirik Drakkar shoved in and did the same, except (gross!) he kissed my neck on each side then shoved me back and took me in and the way he did made my stomach roil and my eyes slide to the side to see Frey had moved to stand facing the huddle rather than at my father’s side and not only was his jaw hard, his eyes were too and if that wasn’t enough, a muscle ticked in his cheek.
Ho boy.
It appeared that not only did Frey not care for his parents, he actively didn’t like them.
It also appeared, since neither Eirik nor Valeria had greeted him nor even looked at him, neither had an ounce of interest in their son.
“Look at my new daughter!” Eirik stated loudly, taking my attention back to him then he leaned into me and proved that firstly, he’d partaken much of the food and whatever he’d eaten had an abundance of onion, or, more likely, he’d eaten an abundance of something with onion, secondly, this was mixed with an alcohol smell that was not champagne and thirdly, this mingling of smells was vastly unappealing. “I must tell you, my lovely, lovely girl, I do not blame my son for dragging the likes of you through the Dwelling of the Gods and being away into the night. I cheered with the rest when I saw it for, if I was twenty years younger, I would do the same or, better yet, take you to the Vallee’s study and have you on his desk!”
Uh… did he just say that?
Major ick!
Not to mention, major rude.
Before I could say a word, not that I had a word to say to that, Frey spoke.
“I’ll thank you to unhand my bride.” His voice was low and unhappy but he didn’t wait for his father to comply. He moved in front of his mother, Atticus and Aurora and, with an arm around my waist, he pulled me firmly out of his father’s grasp.
Thank God.
“Ah, my Frey,” Valeria said softly, “always so prickly, especially when it came to his belongings.” She leaned into me and wagged a finger in my direction. “Never shared with his brothers, our Frey. Always so possessive.”
I will note at this point that she still hadn’t greeted her son.
“It’s repulsive, with your words, that you’d insinuate that I should share my wife with my father, Valeria,” Frey remarked, still in his low, unhappy voice.
“All in the family,” she replied, smiling a smile that not only didn’t reach her eyes but was cold as Christmas.
Uh… ick again.
Already, I did not like these people more than I suspected I wouldn’t like them knowing that Frey didn’t and the not insignificant fact that they’d never given him any presents.