Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(165)



My eyes went directly to Apollo and my feet went to him too for he dipped his head to a chair indicating I should sit.

In that tent, the only one I completely trusted was Apollo. This was because I knew Frey had trusted him because Frey had told me about him, he told me he liked his cousin, he respected him and I’d learned since from Apollo that sentiment was returned. Also, I knew, if I birthed a daughter, the rest of them would easily be at each other’s throats to control Lunwyn just as our enemy was but I understood innately, rather than Apollo telling me, that if Frey and I had boy or girl, Apollo would always have my back.

And I also trusted Apollo because he looked at me with a look that I knew was mirrored in my eyes. Frey had told me he had lost his wife but, the minute I met Apollo, I read in his eyes that he had loved her, he had not recovered and I knew, reading the look in his eyes, he never would.

Ever.

I nodded to him as I moved across the tent, sat in the chair and looked around.

Calder, Frey’s brother, spoke first. “My Winter Princess, Apollo tells us you are still keen that we engage in a rescue effort to recover Queen Aurora.”

“I am,” I answered and I wasn’t the only one. Norfolk Ravenscroft and Olwen Lazarus, my mother’s cousin and brother respectively, I knew felt the same.

“Would it not be a better use of our resources to focus our energy on crushing the rebellion?” Eirik Drakkar asked as he would. I had learned Frey’s father didn’t mind sending his men into battle although he himself got nowhere near it.

“I am no general,” I answered, schooling my tone to sound respectful. “I simply expressed my wishes to Apollo. I leave the war business to you.”

At this point, Walter Sinclair put in, “Our scouts have not found the witch and I will repeat, I feel we should prioritize this mission. If she has the power to bind our Lavinia and Lavinia tells me her foreign companion’s magic rivals her own, we would be remiss not to seize this witch and claim her instruments for our own.”

“You could send Balthazar and Quincy,” I suggested. “They are both returned and my husband…” I faltered because, suddenly and against my will, my throat filled making my voice husky then I forced myself to rally, recover and I finished swiftly, “told me they are very skilled.”

“They are,” Apollo added, his voice soft. “Frey told me the same.”

“Then dispatch them instantly,” Eirik ordered pompously.

“You forget, Father, that we still skirmish,” Garik stated. “We need every blade we can get and these men of Frey’s are not only skilled at finding things, they are equally skilled with steel.”

“Yes, this is true, Garik,” Olwen Lazarus agreed. “But if we had these instruments and two extremely powerful witches, it might be they could use them to crush the rebellion with no more blood shed on either side.”

“No more blood, yes, no more loss of life, no,” Apollo stated quietly, everyone looked to him and I braced.

Apollo of the House of Ulfr was exceedingly gentle with me in a way that hurt since it reminded me of Frey. He was also exceedingly handsome in a way that also reminded me of Frey with his thick dark hair, big, muscular body and commanding presence (although his eyes were a stunning, pure, jade green).

However, in sitting in these meetings, which Apollo demanded I be included in, I had learned he might be gentle with me but he was not a gentle man.

Not at all.

“Apollo,” Norfolk Ravenscroft said low and Apollo leveled his eyes on the older man.

“They hang, all of them,” he declared.

“These are heads of Houses,” Eirik put in. “Their actions were to unite Lunwyn and we should –”

Apollo turned suddenly burning eyes on Frey’s father and his deep voice was terse when he clipped, “They plotted to murder your daughter-in-law, kidnapped and imprisoned her. They killed your king. They hold your queen captive. And sir, might I remind you, they murdered your son.”

I tried to fight it but, at his words, I couldn’t stop myself from dipping my chin and staring at the rough carpets covering the snow under the tent.

Apollo went on, “He was Our Frey. He was Our Drakkar. The adelas are charred. The elves will never return. The dragons cannot aid us in our plight and will not wake unless Finnie births A Drakkar from Frey’s seed and even if she does, this will take years. And I hope I do not have to remind you of the lives already lost. The heads of those Houses are responsible for this, all of it, and they… will… swing.”

Olwen Lazarus and Norfolk Ravenscroft immediately nodded. It took Walter Sinclair three seconds to agree (I counted). But Eirik Drakkar, who, with every encounter I disliked more and who had lost more than anyone in that tent except me, glared at Apollo for long moments before he finally jerked up his chin.

But what surprised me was when Calder Drakkar muttered, “I claim hangman.”

Then I was again surprised when Garik returned on his own mutter, “No, brother, I kick the lever.”

“There will be enough that you both can share,” Apollo declared then he ordered them, “Go to Balthazar and Quincy. Dispatch them to find the witch, scout the situation and give them leave to commence with capture if they feel it is safe or return if we need to send an outfit.” He turned his eyes to Ravenscroft. “The number of Frey’s Raiders is diminished and those left will remain here for the princess’s protection but you have skilled Raiders amongst your troops. Chose those most stealthy to go forth and secure our queen. She, like our princess, grieves and it is our duty to see to it she grieves amongst those who can offer her comfort, not alone and captive in an enemy camp.”

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