“Well, I cannot say this comes as a surprise,” Baldur declared and I looked to him. “He practically dragged you from the Dwelling of the Gods. Vulgar, most assuredly, but telling.” He smiled at me, it was definitely not genuine, and finished, “But who would not be taken with Lunwyn’s Winter Princess, far and away the fairest beauty in that frigid land?”
I wasn’t all that hot on him calling Lunwyn frigid. It was, of course, frigid, strictly speaking, but there were nicer words to use.
It was then there seemed to be some commotion outside. The guards inside went on alert, four closing in on their king and two immediately going out the tent opening.
I turned in my chair, peering around Kell to see what was happening and didn’t have to wait long when one of the guards rushed back in, bowed and said to the furs, “The Drakkar is here.”
Uh-oh.
My eyes shot upwards, caught Kell’s and I saw his mouth surrounded by his bushy, white beard was tight.
Shit.
Then I leaned around again to look beyond Kell to see Frey, followed by Thad, Orion, Max, Annar, Lund and Oleg striding purposefully into the tent and Frey was looking pretty freaking displeased.
Uh-oh again.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded to know before he got five feet into the huge tent and I rose quickly, intent to move to him and find some way to give him a head’s up regarding what was afoot.
“You don’t bow to the king of the land whose soil your boots tread upon?” Baldur asked and he sounded pissed too, pissed and full of outraged affront.
Frey halted beside Kell, bowed shallow and swift, not bothering to wait for his command to rise. I got close to him, putting my hands on his chest, I pressed in as hard as I could and tipped my head back.
Then I rasped, deeper and far more harshly, “Husband, it is my duty to attend a king when called upon to do so.”
Frey’s brows shot together and his head jerked down to look at me the instant the first word came out of my throat.
“You get that medicine you were after, master?” Kell asked casually and Frey tore his eyes from me to look at Kell.
Then, cottoning on quickly, as was his way, he clipped, “No. I heard word the king’s men were at shore and, hearing that, I was certain he would call on my bride so I abandoned the search and returned instantly.” His eyes moved to Baldur as his arm moved to circle my waist and he pulled my front close to his. “And I was not wrong, the king called upon my bride.”
“Of course,” Baldur stated. “She is my niece which means you are now my nephew and the moment I heard your ship was anchored offshore, we rode to extend familial greetings.”
Frey’s jaw went hard.
Then he returned, “That is kind, your grace, but if we were in Middleland for an official visit, rather than to run a swift errand, we would have sent word and come to you to extend our familial greetings. Now my wife, who should be abed, is out in the cold.” He looked at Kell. “Did you not inform his grace that Finnie was ill?”
“Finnie?” Broderick whispered but Kell spoke over him.
“Sure did, master,” Kell answered and I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing. “He said he’d send men aboard to attend her but she wasn’t hearin’ none of it. Said it was her duty and so on.” He flipped out a hand which eloquently (or as eloquent as Kell could be) said what he felt about royal duty. “So she dragged her carcass outta bed, got all tarted up and here we are.”
At that, I had to press my lips together harder. I caught a look at Thad as he was standing at Frey’s back right and I saw his jaw clench. It made him look annoyed but my guess was Thad thought Kell was pretty amusing too.
“My wife informed you she was ill and you sent word you intended to disturb her in her rest by sending men to my ship if she didn’t attend you?” Frey asked, his voice low and rumbling and unmistakably infuriated.
“It didn’t happen exactly like that, Drakkar,” Baldur stated.
“Then maybe you’ll explain exactly how it happened,” Frey mock-suggested. That was to say, it wasn’t a suggestion at all.
“It hardly takes two days to seek medicine, which is at least the amount of time you’ve been anchored off Middlelandian shore,” Baldur shot back and I tensed as he shared this information.
“Perhaps you don’t know your niece very well, your grace, she dislikes being ill, refused to admit she was and has an aversion to being tended. It took me that long to convince her I should go,” Frey totally lied.
“This is true, Father, Sjofn has always been a poor patient, as you know when she caught flu during that visit when she was sixteen,” Broderick put in smoothly then smiled at me. “Remember, cousin, I had to resort to sneaking medicine in your tea.”
“I remember,” I rasped softly on a returned smile, thinking I quite liked Broderick. He seemed very sweet.
Baldur puffed his chest up and ignored our exchange. “Well then, seeing your proximity to our shore, you were here two days, you should have sent a missive. It is, as you well know, my due as king.”
“My apologies, your grace, and I hope you don’t find it offensive when I remind you we did not expect to be at your shore this long and I was dealing with a headstrong, unwell bride. My attention was taken by her, not sending a meaningless message, the effort of which would be a ridiculous waste of time for one of my men,” Frey returned.
“See here,” Baldur said quietly, now his voice was rumbling, “I’ll remind you again whose soil your boots rest on.”
“And I’ll remind you that my wife is clearly not well and the curiosity and mistrust, the latter of which is unearned, I will add,” Frey impressively lied through his teeth, “that were the true reasons you are here with tents and thrones,” he said this with disgust, “has delayed me on the errand of seeing to her health.”
“Careful, Drakkar, you don’t have leave to speak to this king the way you do my brother. The elves don’t leave the snow and you can’t call the dragons from this far,” Baldur retorted.
“Care to test that?” Frey returned.
Ho boy.
Time to intervene.
Pronto.
“Oh dear,” I whispered on my rasp and lifted a hand to my head, turning in the circle of Frey’s arm toward Sjofn’s uncle. “Do you, in all these tents, have someplace I can lie down, uncle? I’m feeling lightheaded.”