I saw his anger ratchet down to about a five before he whispered back, “Good.”
“Though,” I said, cautiously sharing, “your Mom kind of scares me.”
Frey’s eyes didn’t leave mine when he replied, “She should. Where your mother acts first for her husband, then her family then her realm, my mother acts first for herself. Then she acts on every opportunity presented to behave with malice or cruelty. Next, if it serves her purpose, for the House of Drakkar. But never does she act for the good of her sons, her husband or Lunwyn.”
Yep, I didn’t like either of them and especially not Valeria Drakkar.
“Malice and cruelty?” I prompted, still treading cautiously.
He sighed, looked over my head then looked back down at me.
“Malice and cruelty,” he affirmed.
I got up on my toes, Frey dipped closer and when he did, I whispered, “She knows about my archery practice.”
He nodded. “This is not a surprise. She has spies and this is what she wants you to know. This, my wee Finnie, is what she does. It’s doubtful she’s generous enough with any of them to pay for anything she could use, for she’s as stingy as she is heartless, unless, of course, it’s coin used for another gown or necklace for herself. However, she wanted you to know this in hopes you’d worry about the information she held, planting it in your mind so it could fester as you wondered at her intent and the extent of her knowledge.”
Wow.
Wow.
I hated this, like, a lot. So much, it felt like acid at the back of my throat.
And I didn’t hate it for me. I hated it for Frey.
And I hated it so much I couldn’t stop myself from pressing closer, lifting a hand to wrap around the side of his neck and asking softly, “Where on earth did you come from, baby?”
Frey’s brows drew together and he asked softly back, “Pardon?”
My thumb stroked his jaw before I whispered, “My handsome husband is gentle, thoughtful and kind. He laughs and smiles easily and he makes me feel safe. I was with your folks for about five minutes and they were so far from any of that, it is not funny. So,” I squeezed his neck, “where did you come from?”
I belatedly noticed that my gentle, thoughtful, kind husband was staring down at me with that fiery look in his eyes, the same look he had after I gave him his spun glass dragon. And looking at it, his fire melted my heart, a heart that was already far from frozen.
Before I could say anything, not that I hadn’t already said too much, his arms about me tightened and his face dipped super close to mine when he said quietly, “I do not know, my wee Finnie, where I came from but I’m beginning to know why I’m here.”
And that was when stupid, stupid, stupidly, I asked, “And why are you here, honey?”
“I don’t need to say aloud what I know you also are beginning to understand, wee one,” he answered and I pressed my lips together because he was not wrong and I was still not going there. His eyes held mine as his mouth murmured, “She waits for me at windows and buys me dragons. There are reasons we walk this earth, I’m coming to realize mine.”
“Frey,” I whispered and said no more. I couldn’t. I was too moved and I felt strangely like I was standing in quicksand, sinking fast.
The problem was, I had no will whatsoever to find a vine and pull myself out.
His head dipped further and he pressed his lips hard to mine.
Then he broke his sweet touch and moved back an inch to say, “My grandmother.”
My head tipped to the side. “Your grandmother?”
“If there is anything gentle and kind in me, my love, she put it there. My father’s mother had a light shining from her soul.” His lips tipped up and he continued, “Because of that, you remind me in some ways of her. But she lived in a den of vipers and knew how to take care of herself, moving cautiously ahead while keeping an eye to her back lest someone be preparing to bury a dagger in it. Even so, with those she cared about, she displayed great humor, generosity and thoughtfulness.”
I studied him and it hit me he’d said she’d died when he was thirteen.
Therefore I asked, “So, when she passed, is that why you left your family and never went back?”
His lips tipped up further to a grin. “Someone has been talking,” he guessed.
I grinned back and relaxed deeper into him, my hand sliding down to rest on his chest. “Four someones, to be precise, and they had one avid listener.”