Fantasyland: Midnight Soul Part 16

It glanced off him as his lips quirked, he turned and I watched his a.r.s.e in another, more faded-blue pair of his attractive other-world trousers.

When he disappeared beyond the door, I tilted my eyes so far to the side, I could see the ceiling.

"If I promise to be the soul of charitability and kindness, will you release me of my torment?" I asked the G.o.ds, any of them, I didn't care which one was listening.

"What's that, Lady Franka?" Josette called.

"Nothing," I muttered, foiled at every turn, including the fact I knew my maid was sitting by the fire in one of the armchairs in my room, mending some of my clothing, thus she would hear I was reduced to verbally begging the G.o.ds for a reprieve.

Oh, but it was so much easier when no one cared a whit. It'd only been hours when they did and I already knew that as a certainty.

I sighed.

I stared at the pillow.

I considered making more promises to the G.o.ds (but silently).

My mind wandered to Noc's a.r.s.e in his trousers.

And thus, unbeknownst to me, I fell asleep with a curl on my lips.

I woke suddenly, feeling strange.

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 a.s.sertion 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, d.a.m.n all the G.o.ds, 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 amus.e.m.e.nt when he returned, "Yes, I see this is going to prove quite enjoyable."

I fought gnas.h.i.+ng 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.

"Yes," he whispered. "Most amusing."

I did not look but I feared he stood, grinning down at me for a long moment (because he stood by my bed for a long moment) before he finally bid me goodnight and took his leave.

There it was.

Proof.

The G.o.ds had forsaken me.

I understood that from a wee girl but it seemed since then I'd held on to a vein of hope.

That hope was dashed.

My cousin Frey liked me and found me amusing.

Him and others besides.

I was a disgrace to my House.

Blast.

Chapter Five.

Get with the Program Franka "Is everything all right, my lady?" Josette asked.

I turned my head from my contemplation of the view outside the newly-installed window, in font of which my chair was resting, and looked to my maid, trying not to be annoyed at her hovering concern.

"Everything is just fine, Josette. Except perhaps you can bring me my book?"

She jumped as if she'd been asleep and just awoken before she dashed to the book sitting on the nightstand, like procuring it was of grave import. Once this crucial task was accomplished, she dashed directly to me.

"There you go," she said, offering me the slim volume.

"My appreciation," I murmured tightly, taking it.

"Anything else?" she inquired. "Do you feel pain? Would you like me to brew some willow tea? Are your dressings chafing? Would you like me to a.s.sist you back to the bed?"

"I'd like, my dear, some quiet and peace in order to read," I replied with forced composure.

"Yes," she returned swiftly. "Of course. I'm just in the other room should you need to call."

As she had been for the last three days, only a slight raise of the voice away.

I watched as she made her way to my dressing-room door, a small antechamber of that room where her narrow bed was located, but I stopped her before she vanished behind it.

"Josette?"