Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(127)

“Then tell this Valentine to tell Sjofn that if she does, I will see to it that she sits at a secret tribunal to hear testimony of her treason after which, when judgment is passed, she will face private execution. Her mother and father both agree that her selfish actions brand her traitor to the realm and traitor to the crown and if they do, any head of a House chosen to be judge at her tribunal will as well. All of this will be done without any but the four people involved knowing it is done, plus, of course, her executioner. Sjofn will be hanged for her crimes but no one will be the wiser as Finnie carries on as princess then king mother. This news, I would suspect, will likely halt her desperate attempts to return and make amends for her treacherous actions.”

“I agree,” Agnes said softly, her eyes again surveying him, “but do you not think your wife should have some say in issues of such great import?”

“No,” Frey answered shortly.

She surveyed him again closely and he sensed she did not agree.

He did not care.

Then, wisely moving on, she declared, “There is more you need to know.”

Frey waited.

She took in breath.

Then she stated, “Valentine is a powerful witch.”

“You’ve explained that,” Frey replied and she had, as did the elves.

Agnes went on. “She is witch not seer.” She paused then announced, “But I am both.”

At the look on her face, the fire died and the ice returned.

“Speak,” he ordered.

She pulled in breath then let it out on a whispered, “Drakkar, I see fire and blood and I see it around your Finnie.”

Frey’s body locked so he wouldn’t go back on a foot at this news.

“Fire and blood?” he asked softly.

“Dragon fire,” she whispered, “the heat so intense, buildings melt. And blood, so much, her boots stand in rivers of it. I dream of it, I dream of it every night, I can’t stop dreaming of it.”

“I control the dragons,” Frey reminded her quietly.

“And in ancient times, when The Drakkar called the dragons to duty, it is told it was not unknown for an innocent to perish in the line of their fire.”

Frey was silent as that ice again stole through his veins.

Agnes spoke on. “It is an awful thought, worse to speak of and worse still for you to make the decision, but I believe you should relent to the return of Sjofn and let it be her that faces this future, not your Finnie.”

“You’re speaking of murder,” Frey replied, his gut twisting with disgust.

“You yourself said if she returned she’d face certain execution,” Agnes retorted.

“Execution, witch, is not murder,” Frey clipped.

She lifted her chin to grant his point then said, “I see the vision, I dream the dream, I do not know if it is Sjofn or Finnie who stands in the fire and blood. I also do not know the outcome. The fire surrounds her, the blood flows over her boots. But I do know this will happen, Drakkar. Never, not once since I started dreaming the visions as a wee girl, has one not come true.” She pulled in a visible breath and finished, “I am sorry but this is your choice. If you bar Sjofn’s return to this world, you must pray to Keer who holds Princess Finnie’s and your destinies in his hands or you make the dreadful choice to stand Sjofn in that fire. But the choice is yours.”

Frey studied her.

Then he asked, “You say you do not see the outcome?”

She shook her head and confirmed, “I do not.”

“And how does Finnie or Sjofn come to this pass?”

“I do not see that either, Drakkar.”

“And is she alone or surrounded by men, guards, soldiers?”

She shook her head again and repeated, “I do not see that either.”

Frustration crawled up his throat and he growled, “This vision is not very helpful.”

Her back shot straight. “I’m not a fortune teller as they don’t exist,” she snapped. “I am a seer. I do not control the visions, they come to me. This is what I saw, it was grave and because of that I have travelled far to inform you but this was all I saw.”

At that moment, a loud, feminine cry of delight pierced through the room and Frey turned to the windows.

Finnie was jumping up and down, her arms around Annar’s neck with one hand still holding her bow. Her movements were so excited the arrows in the quiver strapped across her back were cascading to the green grass at her feet. Annar was standing feet planted firm to the ground, his hands at her waist but her exuberance was jolting his body. He was in profile but Frey could see his man’s wide smile.

Finnie detached swiftly from Annar, whirled to face an excited Skylar, threw both her arms up in the air, still holding her bow and shrieked her delight again before she bent and caught Skylar up in a tight embrace, shaking him side to side as Frey heard her laugh.

Skylar’s boyish laughter mingled with hers.

Frey’s eyes moved to Finnie’s target and he saw the arrows had been cleared. Now there were only two.

One in the circle outside the bulls-eye.

One embedded directly in the middle of it.

He felt his lips curve into a smile.

She’d done it.

Fire and blood.

Frey’s smile died.

Then he turned to the witch.