I saw vague firelight glinting on my pillow but the room was lit by naught else.
It was night.
I’d been sleeping.
Now I was awake.
Awake and I could see the shadow of a large man sitting in a chair by my bed.
Disoriented but feeling alarm course through me at this realization, my back raged with pain as I abruptly pushed up to my forearms.
“Calm, Franka,” Frey’s voice came to me quietly. “It’s only me.”
I tried to put a whip in my voice, but I was drowsy and confused so it came only as a minor bite when I asked, “And what, pray, are you doing sitting by my bed in the middle of the night?”
“It’s barely eight in the evening.”
Blast my father and his abuses. I’d drifted off after my (delicious, amazingly so considering what it was) broth, bread and wine.
“I presumed you’d wake and then we could talk,” Frey continued.
“I do hope you understand I’m really in no mood,” I replied.
He leaned toward me, putting his elbows on his knees, and ignored my assertion completely.
“I was wrong about you,” he told me softly.
“You were not,” I returned briskly. “I am precisely who you thought I was.”
“You realize the game is over?” he inquired.
“I realize nothing of the sort, considering there was no game,” I retorted. “I am Franka Drakkar now. I was Franka Drakkar a week ago, two months ago, ten years ago. Nothing has changed.”
“Everything’s changed.”
I could take no more.
“Frey, my darling cousin,” I started on a drawl, “it seems I’ve procured one stubborn, annoying male in my life for the foreseeable future. I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t double that number for I don’t even want the one I already have.”
He again ignored me, something both the stubborn, annoying males in my life were clearly very adept at doing.
“I was under the impression your father was dead.”
Ah yes, my father’s “death.”
A juvenile piece of conniving, that. Unnecessarily dramatic. Although at the time I did find the lack of grief expressed by the Houses at his “demise” rather humorous.
That said, it did allow my dearest papa to achieve success in a variety of nefarious machinations, one of which was continuing to rain abuse down on his two children with great alacrity and no accountability.
I shrugged one shoulder minutely and held my gaze aimed to his face, but dipped my voice lower as I shared, “You know we Drakkars like our schemes, Frey.”
I saw his head bow in a nod.
Therefore I went on.
“Schemes are far easier to achieve if perpetrated by a ghost.”
This was met with silence and I waited with ill-patience as my cousin digested the nugget I’d granted.
He’d clearly done so when he spoke his next.
“I wish you’d told me.”
That was not relayed in a quiet voice. Or a soft one.
It was gentle and it was melancholy.
And, damn all the gods, I felt it touch my heart.
As I was adept at doing, I triumphed over the weakness of such a feeling.
“And how would that conversation have gone, Frey?” I asked. “Perhaps the first time you accused me of treason, I should have played that card by playing on your sympathies. ‘Oh, but Frey, I’d never do that, not because I’m a Drakkar and it’d be foolish beyond reason. But because, poor little me, my father is fond of a lash and has been since I was wee.’”
“Derision is no longer a weapon you need to use, Franka,” he shared.
“It’s served me well much of my life. I’ve honed my talent with it quite keenly, so if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll keep it,” I rejoined.
I could not make his face out well in the shadows and firelight, but he didn’t seem to be getting annoyed.
If my eyes didn’t deceive me, it seemed he was smiling.
“As you wish, cousin,” he murmured. “Understanding what lies beneath the mask, it will surely cease to be irritating and prove quite enjoyable.”
Things seemed to continue to get worse.
“I can call the elves, Franka,” he said low. “Ask them to see to your back.”
The elves of our realm had healing powers beyond comprehension, as evidenced by the fact they’d brought a dead Lavinia back to life. It was lore the dead person needed to be freshly dead for this to prove a successful, rather than a highly disturbing endeavor (and thus the elves no longer did such a thing). Luckily, Lavinia was only in that sad state for a few hours.
And Frey had command of the elves.
But I thought not.
“My back will heal,” I declared.
“It will, but they can—”
“They’re mine,” I bit out. “I earned them in a way you can’t comprehend and I’m keeping them, Frey. And with respect, that’s the end of that discussion.”
He was silent for a moment and I felt his contemplation.
But fortunately, he let that subject go.
“Do you need anything before I return to Finnie and send Noc back to you?” he queried.
“I need you not to send Noc back to me,” I answered.
There was a timbre to his voice that betrayed his amusement when he returned, “Yes, I see this is going to prove quite enjoyable.”
I fought gnashing my teeth.
Frey stood.
“Rest well, Franka. I’ll poke my head in after the wedding tomorrow. See how you’re faring.”
“I await this visit with bated breath, cousin,” I murmured sardonically.