Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(114)

That was arguable but I didn’t have time to argue it now.

“Kell, time is wasting,” I reminded him and the scowl shot back to severe.

Then he burst out, “Balls, I see it in yer eyes. You’re gonna go cockamamie on me.”

“Kell!” I snapped loudly.

“All right, all right, smooth your knickers, princess,” he said, hands up but pressing down. “You got an hour then your arse is on deck.”

“Right,” I replied.

He sucked in breath and seared me with another scowl. Then he shook his head and exited the cabin, slamming the door behind him simply, I guessed, because he was a curmudgeon and didn’t want me to forget it.

I stared at the door and, with that confrontation over, the coming one loomed in front of me.

I had two choices, freak out or get my shit sorted.

I rushed to my trunks to get my shit sorted.

* * * * *

First off, it was clear we’d travelled far enough south that Middleland, unlike Lunwyn, was not charmingly crusted with ice and snow. I’d noticed that from viewing shore from the ship and I’d definitely noticed the air was warmer, not well above freezing but not below it.

As Kell, myself, Gunner, Stephan and three of Frey’s crew acting as impromptu royal guards made our way to my uncle’s camp on horses provided for us, I also noticed that Middleland wasn’t that charming at all. It wasn’t exactly barren but it also wasn’t colorful or overly fertile. It seemed bleak, craggy and dark and although the days were longer, that wasn’t exactly a boon because Middleland would probably look better in the moonlight.

Seeing it, I thought that perhaps Sjofn’s grandfather had a favorite son after all for Atticus definitely got the better deal when his father was doling out kingdoms.

Once we’d navigated the dark rocks that made up the shore and spread inland, it didn’t take long for the tents to come into view. The sun was beginning to set but I could see they were striped wide in red and black. They were large, there were several of them, they each had a number of peaks and all of these peaks had red and black checked pennants flying.

We were escorted by the king’s men of which there were twelve (my opinion only, but I thought this was overkill). They all were wearing amour breastplates with black and red dragons painted on them, high black boots that came up to their thighs, poofy black shorts and they also had red and black striped poofs of material around their shoulders but their biceps and forearms were covered solely in black. On their heads they had gleaming helmets with a Mohawk arrangement of stiff black and red feathers. All their weapons (swords on scabbards attached to their saddles and a knife at their belts) shone as if they’d never been used.

I read from their number and attire that Baldur liked pomp and circumstance. Frey’s men wore what they wore; there was no uniform of The Drakkar or even of his merchant ships. My father’s men wore a uniform but it was warm, sturdy, comfortable and utilitarian. All the heads of the Houses I’d met at the Gales had worn their colors proudly but they let their wives display the finery that indicated their wealth. The men’s clothes were excellent quality and there were touches that indicated affluence but none of them were overt about it.

This pageantry to meet your niece in a tent on a desolate plain seemed a bit much and said a great deal about my uncle.

His men led us straight to the biggest tent and when I say that I mean it was the biggest tent by far, at least double the size of any other, maybe more, and as large as a small house. The entryway had a ten foot long awning stretching out from it along which four guards stood. It was clear these guards were more important for their feathers in their helmets were bigger and each had a ruby in the hilt of the daggers on their belts.

Immediately upon arrival, there was a wee situation when we stopped and Gunner (most of the men I knew well were with Frey, however he’d left Gunner and Stephan behind, likely in case something like this occurred) dismounted instantly and came to help me off my horse. Unfortunately, one of Baldur’s men did the same and Gunner didn’t take kindly to this.

As glowers were exchanged and chests puffed up, an idea hit me and I was both thankful that it did because I’d been wracking my brain since Kell left the cabin as to what I intended to do (to no avail) and also I hoped I could pull it off.

“Please,” I fake rasped and it sounded so good even I was surprised at how real it sounded. I saw instantly so was Gunner who knew I didn’t have a sore throat. It also surprised the guard and Kell who’d stopped his horse close to mine and I felt his eyes come to me. “I am comfortable with my guard. If you will allow…” I kept rasping then trailed off, grimaced in fake pain and wrapped one of my hands daintily around my throat as if those mere words had caused me more than mild suffering.

The guard looked at me and his face softened. I smiled what I hoped was a benevolent princess smile on him, his lips tipped up and I figured I’d pulled off the princess smile. He gave a small bow then stepped back gallantly. Gunner reached up and pulled me down but he did it so my face stayed parallel to his for the barest second and I saw his blue eyes smile.

I didn’t smile back because his back was to the guard and mine wasn’t but I rolled my eyes the barest bit. Then he set me on my feet and I leaned into him like I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up. He took his cue and hooked my arm firmly in the crook of his elbow before he escorted me to the awning where Kell joined me on my other side. I grabbed onto him too (might as well go for the gusto) and they led me through the awning and inside the tent.