“I’m sorry, my love, there was nothing I could do about that. I was in no state and Kell nor the elves could move between realms without me.” Frey whispered into my hair but I shook my head as my body started shaking with new tears and I repeated, “I thought you were dead.”
“Finnie,” he muttered as I held him tighter, my body pressing into his like I wanted him to absorb me.
“I said things –” I started, my voice hoarse, my throat clogged with tears.
“We will not discuss this now,” he said quietly but firmly. “I wronged you, my love, but I will explain –”
My head shot back and I whispered fervently, “You did but it was me… me who said unforgiveable things and –”
I stopped when his thumb came to my lips and pressed as his face got close.
“It is for me to forgive or not to forgive and you said no less than I deserved,” he stated, again soft but firm. “But I have an enemy to vanquish, Apollo and my men are standing behind you getting more and more impatient by the second having ceased being touched by lovers reunited about five minutes ago and now wishing my ear. So, we will discuss it later.”
I stared in his beautiful, beautiful olive green eyes with their thick, lush lashes.
Then I whispered, “Okay.”
He grinned.
My eyes dropped to his mouth.
God, I loved his grin. I loved his eyes. I loved the feel of his arms around me.
And I loved him.
Therefore, I blurted, “I love you, Frey Drakkar.”
He closed his eyes, dropped his forehead to mine and whispered, “And I you, Finnie Drakkar.”
I closed my eyes too and sighed, my body relaxing into my husband’s.
But my husband’s body didn’t relax against mine. His head tilted, his lips found mine, they opened, mine reciprocated and he kissed me. He took his time, he did it right and it was the best kiss I ever had.
Save one.
The one he gave me at our wedding.
That would always be at the top of the list.
Even if, with this one, cool-as-shit dragons were watching.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Aftermath
One and a half weeks later…
Mother and I stood, both of us wearing black suede cloaks, black leather gloves, our hair free around our shoulders, our crowns in place, our booted feet on the rocky shore and we watched the boat with its square sail patterned in red and gold diamonds catching the wind, making it drift into the Winter Sea.
It was lined in red and gold silk and in its middle, on a platform, my father’s remains were shrouded in dark red and surrounded by flickering candles protected from the wind by red tinted glass.
Just behind me to my left Frey stood so close I felt his chest brush my shoulder even through the cloak.
A vast gathering of silent Lunwynians stood behind the three of us, along the sweeping hill that met the icy sea, its glaciers drifting in the distance.
I stared at the boat and kept my shoulders straight, my head high and endured the burn in my chest as the boat and its precious cargo floated out to sea.
Then Frey raised his fisted hand and lowered it.
Thirty seconds later we heard the flap of powerful, huge, leathery wings.
Ten seconds after that we saw the approach of two dragons, one on each side.
Ten seconds after that, they bent their necks and, in unison, they spewed a stream of fire that struck the boat, incinerating it in the blink of an eye as they soared past each other so close their wings brushed.
Mother’s hand reached out, her fingers curling around mine and they clenched tight but other than that, she didn’t move.
Neither did I, except to curl mine around hers.
Then the dragons flew off into the distance as my mother, my husband, myself and my father’s subjects stared at the tranquil waves and peacefully drifting glaciers of the Winter Sea.
Many moments later, I heard my mother whisper to the wind in a voice filled with sorrow, “Good-bye, my beloved.”
I pressed my lips together, locked my body and when the tear came, there was only one.
And it was silent.
Even so, my husband shifted closer.
* * * * *
Four days later…
We moved through the forest slowly, the snow gone with the thaw, wet, green turf in its place, the trees blossoming all around and we stopped at the small, ice marble pyre behind which were two seated dragons, their spiked tails swaying lazily, their wings tucked in, their long, slender, forked tongues drifting.
And on the pyre, swathed in brilliant, glimmering, ice blue silk, only her pretty face exposed to the brilliant sun, was Alyssa.
Frey held my hand and stood by me, Aurora moving in at my other side, Bess next to her and Esther next to her. Skylar gently pushed between Mother and I then leaned heavily against my side so I slid my arm around his shoulders. Jocelyn moved in at Frey’s other side and at her side, his gait slow, his hand that was not curled in Jocelyn’s curled around a cane, was Thad. Frey’s men and Alyssa’s family and friends moved to their places and stopped.
When they did, Frey did not hesitate to touch the twirly tip of the long, glittering branch he held to the earth. At its end, a miniature elf sprung from the turf, she touched the branch and instantly grew to my height. Without delay she gave Frey his salute then her glowing ice blue eyes touched on me then slid over the crowd.
Then she walked to the pyre and around it, standing on the dragons’ side. We watched as she looked down at Alyssa, her head tilted, her mouth went soft then she lifted her hands in prayer position to her lips for only a moment before she opened them so her pinkies were pressed together and then she dropped both slightly forward.
And when she dropped them, a flash of ice blue covered Alyssa’s body and at once a shock of bright, white sparks rose clear to the sky and Alyssa’s body disappeared.
Frey raised his fist and lowered it, the dragons straightened their long necks, aiming their mouths to the heavens and there they sent a stream of fire.
I turned and pressed my face in my husband’s chest as my fingers curled into his wool.
His arms moved around me and went tight.
* * * * *
Two days later…
In the State Dining Room, Rimée Keep, Snowdon.
“Are you mad?” Eirik Drakkar spat at his son from his seat mid-table flanked by his two other sons, the ones who were not married to me.
Before Frey could reply, Olwen Lazarus did. “I see the wisdom of this.”
Eirik’s furious gaze shot to the man and he hissed, “You would, she’s your bloody sister.”
“This is highly unusual,” Walter Sinclair muttered.