Fantasyland: Midnight Soul Part 24

Other than this, there was naught else in their cells.

Nothing.

"Frey!" my father snapped, and at his voice I pressed closer to Noc. "When he gets here, my solicitor will be having a word with the queen. Being in this building is outrageous. These clothes," he plucked at his shirt furiously, having strode to the bars before his cell and stopping in front of them. "No creature comforts. Barely a pa.s.sable blanket to keep the chill away that veritably whistles through the walls. Not even a book to pa.s.s the time. And I demand that Anneka be moved into my cell with me, or at the very least across from me so we can see each other as we converse."

"I do believe, uncle, it's escaped you that you're not in a position to make demands," Frey replied calmly.

Papa's voice was rising. "Wait until your father hears of this!"

I held my ground even as I sensed my mother approaching the bars.

"It shocks me how little you've paid attention, Nils," Frey returned. "Although you're correct. My father will undoubtedly be outraged by your current circ.u.mstances. I just don't give a f.u.c.k what he thinks, and I never did."

"Franka," my mother called softly.

I made certain my features were arranged as I wished them, blankly, before I gave her my attention.

"You cannot wish this on your father and I." She continued to speak in that quiet, timid, beleaguered tone, which obviously I'd never heard.

Even with my first real glance at her, I saw she was broken. Without her husband's name, his House, his self-importance and her magic to stand behind, it had been but days and she was a ghost of the spiteful, conceited, pitiless, evil woman I knew.

I'd endured torture at their hands to mind, body and spirit for thirty-four years and there I was.

There I was.

And in nine days she'd all but wasted away.

She'd never survive a life in prison. Or, more accurately, her life imprisoned would be a life significantly shortened.

"Frey, if you would," I began, looking to my cousin who in turn directed his attention to me. "Order they be given another blanket. A pillow. And a flannel sheet to cover their pallets and help to beat back the chill. Perhaps they both should also have a book."

Frey didn't hide his surprise but he inclined his head and turned to the guard.

"See that it's done."

"Of course, my lord," the guard murmured.

"A b.l.o.o.d.y blanket and a book?" my father asked furiously. "Franka, demand our release at once," he ordered.

I ignored him and again looked at my mother.

When I caught her eyes, she dropped hers and said, "Your kindness is appreciated, daughter."

"Do not mistake it as kindness," I declared, and startled, her gaze came again to mine. "I do not request this as a kindness, Mother," I explained. "I request this in an effort to keep you healthy. It would not do for you to catch a deathly chill and shorten your penance."

She blanched, taking a step back from the bars.

"Franka," my father growled in a warning tone.

I again ignored him and took a step toward my mother's cell.

"You reap what you sow," I said quietly, not tearing my eyes from her horrified ones. "For years, you taught me nothing but callousness and cruelty. You taught me strength was in manipulating others' weaknesses for my gain. You taught me arrogance was a point of pride and a weapon to add to my a.r.s.enal. You taught me loyalty was to be punished. Fear was to be unrelenting. Pain was to be expected. I only hope that in the remaining years of my life I've got enough light in the midnight soul you shadowed inside me to burn the seed you've sown to cinders and plant a new one that will take root and grow. But even if that isn't to be the case, as you've taught me my entire life to live my own with heartlessness and selfishness, knowing you live a life of fear and torment will suffice to see me through to my own end."

Her hand snaked up to her throat, her eyes wide as saucers, dread wafting from her in physical ways I could not only feel, but could smell and it reeked. My father bellowed, "You'll rue those words when we're released, you ungrateful b.i.t.c.h!"

I shifted, letting go of Noc to approach my father's cell but feeling Noc move with me, close to my back.

I tipped my head back to look up at Papa.

The wrathful, persecuted look on his face and burning from his gaze shared he had not broken. He was quite certain his position and name would change his circ.u.mstances in the near future.

He was misguided.

No.

He was a fool.

"And what, pray, Papa, should I be grateful for that you and Mother have given me?" I asked.

He tipped his head angrily toward my body. "That fur you're wearing, for one."

"This fur was purchased when the quarterly Drakkar stipend was forwarded to me, something that's increased now that Frey's brother is head of the House and managing it capably, rather than your brother running it straight into financial ruin."

"And the Drakkar name was given to you by me," he spat.

"Alas," I murmured.

"The impudence," he bit off.

I stared at him.

Without Mother's magic, outside of retaining his handsomeness, which had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the strength of the Drakkar line, he suddenly seemed like an old, bl.u.s.tering buffoon.

And indeed, without Mother's magic that was all he'd ever been.

"This is the last you'll see of me, Papa. Any loving words you wish to say?" I invited.

"If you don't speak to the queen on our behalf, Franka-" he began to warn.

I lifted my brows and interrupted him. "You'll what, Papa?" I then lifted a hand and touched the bars that separated us with the tip of my index finger, reminding him of his situation. "What will you do?"

Faster than his years, which had always been the way, his hand darted up and he caught my finger in an excruciating hold, his own fingers tightening, crushing mine against the bar even as he pressed his face between them.

"I'll break you, you revolting harlot," he hissed.

He was able to get that out before I found my finger suddenly released.

I heard the terrible noise of bones breaking, then my father's pained howl sounded against the stone walls, and finally Noc's order of, "Step back, Franka."

He'd torn my father's fingers from mine and bent them back, using a bar to leverage his hold, a hold he still had on my father so even now I could see they were at an unnatural angle that had to be excruciating.

I felt it prudent to step back. This I did.

When I did, Noc released my father and took his own step to return to my side.

Father retreated from the bars and held his damaged hand in his other, bent over them both at his chest protectively.

"You might wish to call for a physician to set those," Frey suggested to the guard.

"You'll hear from our solicitor," Papa snarled angrily, his head bent back to glower at us, but his voice betrayed his pain.

"And I'm sure whatever he says will be most amusing," Frey drawled.

My father sent a scowl his way then asked, "Have you humiliated us enough, bringing the Winter Princess here to see our degradation? The b.l.o.o.d.y ruler of Bellebryn and his bride? The savage king and his Middlelandian queen? Have you, nephew? For if you have, I'd thank you to leave us to our ordeal further unmolested."

Frey didn't answer my father. He turned to me.

"Are you finished, Franka?"

I looked at Papa, pain starting to twist his face, ire still blazing in his eyes.

I then looked to my mother. She'd retreated to stand against the back wall beside her bed, both her elegant hands lifted and clasped at the base of her throat, her eyes on me.

Finally, I looked to my cousin.

"I am indeed, cousin."

"Let us be away then," Frey stated, sounding relieved and proving he was by moving all of us immediately to retreat.

Neither of my parents called a farewell.

I did the same, not even giving them my regard as I walked from view of their cells.

Noc took my hand and curled it at once around his elbow, bending to me and asking, "Your finger okay, sweetheart?"

"Quite all right, Noc," I answered, my eyes straight ahead.

"You kicked a.s.s back there, baby. Wish I had that on video. f.u.c.kin' brilliant," he decreed.

I had no idea what "on video" meant, but I didn't ask.

I also did not even try to fight back the urge to do what I next did.

I simply did it.

This being turning my head and tipping it back.

Once that was done and I'd caught Noc's gaze, I did my last.

Slowly, and with great delight I did not hide, I smiled.

Huge.

"Master Noc broke his fingers?" Josette asked incredulously.

"At least three of them," I informed her.

She stared at me a moment looking horrified but this dissolved as her body started shaking and then a loud giggle erupted from her mouth.

I felt my lips curling up.

When she controlled her mirth, she mumbled, "I wish I was there."

"I do as well," I replied.

I ignored her blinking at me in shock, having decided over the past days when I did something kind that Josette found unexpected and she showed her surprise, she'd eventually get used to it.

For I had found that guarding myself from this variety of camaraderie, sharing moments and news and snippets of life, and even feelings with the woman with whom I spent most of my time, was not only draining and tiresome, but also unnecessary.

Josette had not a cruel bone in her body. She'd remained steadfast to me even when I wasn't as I'd begun to be.

She was now blossoming under my warm regard.

And I found witnessing it most pleasant.

Thus it was late afternoon and we were now sharing prior to her a.s.sisting me in my preparations to attend another dinner with the queen and the others.

"Now, tell me, how goes your search for a new maid?" I asked.

She settled her behind deeper in the chair opposite me and stated, "I've narrowed it down to three, Lady Franka. They all seem quite capable, have much experience, excellent references, good dispositions and are keen to go on an adventure by crossing the Green Sea."

At her words, I frowned.

I'd found of late (that "of late" being the last several days) that the "Lady Franka" business, something of which I hadn't thought of in the slightest in the past, was grating.

I was, of course, a lady.

Josette reminding me of it every time she spoke my name was superfluous.

I didn't call her "Maid Josette." The very idea was ludicrous.

"Josette, if you please," I said on a sweep of my hand in front of me, "I'm tiring of 'Lady Franka.'"

"I...well," her expression turned perplexed, "what, milady?"

"That too," I replied. "'Milady.' Of course when we're in company, you'll need to continue to address me thus. But when we're on our own, I see no reason for you to consistently utter my t.i.tle. Franka will do."