Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(48)

I saw.

Lightning fast, Frey’s hand went to his knife on his belt, his knees bent and his arm swung overhanded, launching the knife down the walk.

And I saw that knife lodge right in a man’s throat.

I stared at the man as he fell backward, hands lifting to his neck, blood spurting from the knife and rushing down to stain his sweater but I sensed more movement, looked back and saw Frey had his other knife out, a man was approaching him, blade drawn. Frey’s hand snaked out and wrapped around the man’s wrist that was holding the knife. Frey whirled him and yanked him back against his body and, without hesitation, on another hideous gush of blood, Frey sliced open his throat.

Saliva filled my mouth as the air hollowed out of my lungs and I pressed back hard against Tyr.

Then I heard running footsteps and saw another flying knife as Thad went down to a knee and released one in what appeared to be my direction. My heard jerked around to see a man who had been rounding Tyr and nearing me drop to his knees, Thad’s knife in the side of his neck.

Then I whirled immediately the other way as I heard scuffling feet and I saw Ruben had hold of yet another man, one arm wrapped around the man’s chest, pinning him to Ruben, Ruben holding his own knife close to the man’s throat. The man in Ruben’s hold was pressing back to get away from the knife and grunting with the effort even as his feet shuffled underneath him but only his toes were touching the snow because Ruben held him off the ground.

I stood frozen, every inch of me, including my mind and my lungs… but not my heart.

My heart was hammering painfully in my chest.

Tyr was pressing his bulk against my back which was a good because if he didn’t, there was a good chance I would pass out.

“We saw them follow you out of the pub,” Thad explained, striding forward casually and bending over to yank the knife out of the not quite dead man lying in the snow not three feet away from me. And when he did, the man’s body jerked as he made a horrid gurgling noise and a new flood of blood poured out of the wound.

Another surge of saliva filled my mouth at the sight but Thad completely ignored him as he straightened and turned to Frey.

“They’ve had eyes on you and Princess Finnie all night,” Ruben put in.

“Felt them, saw them, not skilled, unwise but interesting,” Frey muttered distractedly then jerked his chin at Ruben. “Find out what he knows and I’ll want to know everything he says the minute you break him.” Ruben grinned in a very scary way that told an equally frightening tale about the new activities he’d be engaged in that night, activities he appeared to be anticipating with great relish but Frey was already looking to Thad. “Go to the constable, explain. Go to the men, I want four at the cabin on patrol outside. All night. Do it now but not in that order. Finnie and I are away home. Tell the men we leave for Fyngaard at dawn, we’ll need a guard. And send someone to the king.”

Thad nodded, turned and disappeared in the shadows.

Ruben was already yanking the still struggling man away and he too disappeared in the shadows.

I stood still frozen but my head swiveled woodenly to the side as Frey walked calmly to the dead man to collect his knife, putting his boot to the base of his neck to do so.

He sheathed it after wiping the blood off by stabbing it twice into the snow.

I swallowed back a sudden surge of vomit and my head got light.

Tyr whinnied and suddenly I was caught in Frey’s strong arm. He mounted his steed at the same time dragging me with him. Then I stared blankly ahead of me as Frey touched his heels to Tyr’s flanks and we took off at a full gallop.

Frey held me close with his arm around me, his torso pressed into my back so we were both leaning over Tyr as we cleared the town and the darkness of the forest which was shot by the bright gray of moonlight on snow surrounded us.

My husband just killed two men.

Right in front of me.

And one of his men killed a man.

Right beside me.

And they didn’t pause, check for pulses, call police or anything.

And they were good at killing. Very good. Remarkably skilled. Unbelievably. They wasted no time, they didn’t hesitate, they didn’t blink and they didn’t even get winded or break a sweat.

They’d done it before. Often.

I started trembling but not with the cold that bit at my cheeks and ears.

It was fear. Pure fear the like I’d never felt in my life.

I closed my eyes tight and my trembling tore through me deeper, turning to shakes.

Frey felt it.

“Wee Finnie, it’s all right,” Frey whispered in my ear, “you’re safe, my winter bride.”

I opened my eyes for two reasons. One, because I saw the remembered and probably never to be forgotten vision of the man’s body jump and his blood flood when Thad unceremoniously yanked his knife out of his neck and two, because I didn’t feel safe.

Not at all.

What I did feel safe was saying that Frey definitely had enemies. Four men had come at him.

Four.

And he’d dispatched them without a thought and left them dead or dying in the snow of a sweet, quiet, winter village that had two awesome waterwheels and he did this without a second glance.

Oh God.

At a gallop and using Frey’s shortcut, we were home in five minutes. Frey took Tyr right to the door, dismounted the minute Tyr came to a stop and hauled me off the horse. He held my hand as he guided me to and through the front door but used my hand to position my back against the wall right at its side.