I looked around at what appeared to be some kind of vestibule as more women, different ones this time, came hurriedly toward Mom and I and Mom asked sharply, “The Drakkar?”
“He is still here, your grace,” one of the women taking her cloak and gloves mumbled.
Your grace?
Your grace?
Okay, I should have gotten it before, what with the crowns and all, but it appeared my mother might be royalty.
Which would mean I was too.
Holy moly!
Two women were divesting me of my gloves and cloak as my mother announced, “I will make haste in taking my seat. He will know we’ve arrived if I do. Prepare her instantly.”
Then she was off.
I blinked at her back.
Then I blinked when a bundle of long, delicate twigs was thrust into my arms and I stared down at them. Most of their length was straight with little knots in the wood but the ends were curved and twirly. That was weird but the bark was weirder. They looked like they’d been sprayed by glitter but on closer inspection they hadn’t.
They glittered naturally.
Whoa. Wow!
The ends of the twigs were bound tight with winter white and ice blue ribbons and there was no big bow to finish but the ends were tucked neatly away.
I hadn’t yet processed the bundle in my arms or why it was there when I was pushed gently to stand in front of two double doors and when I was, I looked up and around me.
“Good luck, my Winter Princess,” one of the girls whispered, giving my upper arm a reassuring squeeze then she took off.
What? Winter princess?
Oh my God!
I was royalty and apparently my mother and father were queen and king.
Holy moly!
I stood there, alone and stunned at this news when it hit me I was alone and maybe had a second to find out what the fuck was going on.
I held the twigs in the crook of one arm like a beauty pageant contestant and dug the paper out of my cleavage with the other hand. Awkwardly but quickly unfolding it with one hand, I opened it and saw with some shock, and not a little alarm, that not much was written on it.
Then I took the two seconds it took to read it.
Seoafin,
Tonight, you marry The Drakkar. In the ancient tongue, this means The Dragon.
Good luck,
Sjofn
Oh shit.
I’d been played.
Oh shit! I’d been played!
Before I could freak out or, I didn’t know, maybe turn tail and run, the double doors swung wide and I saw my father was stomping purposefully toward me. At the same time, an orchestra struck up pounding a dramatic swell of music as beyond my father I saw what looked like the enormous sanctuary of a church filled to bursting with people all of whom were standing and turning to me.
Nope, it wasn’t an oh shit moment.
It was an oh fuck moment.
Dad made it to me, snatched the paper out of my hand, crinkled it quickly into a ball and tossed it away. Then he grabbed my hand firmly, tucked it in the crook of his arm at the same time jerking my body close to his side and he tipped his head down to me.
“Pleased you could make it, Sjofn,” he growled.
Then without delay he started to march me down the aisle.
Chapter Three
The Wedding
Okay, okay, okay, it appeared I was getting married.
Shit.
To a man known as “The Dragon”.
Shit!
Try, at least, to be happy, that girl had said to me.
I didn’t think that boded well.
Enjoy The Drakkar. I think you will and more, I think he will enjoy you, the lady who could jump from a two story building had said.
That didn’t bode much better, as in, at all.
I clutched my father’s arm as we walked down an aisle that seemed to be as long as a football field (but wasn’t but it was still freaking long) and I wished that I could concentrate on being with my Dad for the first time in fifteen years but I couldn’t. There was a sea of people all standing, all smiling at me or watching me with interest in their eyes and happiness on their faces.
I took them in as the music washed over me and my father marched me quickly forward.
Crap, I was getting… freaking… married.
Okay, Finnie, I said to myself, sucking in breath, take stock.
Dad was at my side, he was alive and except for the somewhat strange outfit he was wearing (dark brown leather shorts, very high, dark brown leather boots, a thick but gorgeous dark red turtleneck sweater, a leather band at a slant around his chest crusted with gold inlaid with rubies, a fur cloak attached to the band that hung on a slant on his back and a big, gold crown with rubies and diamonds, much like Mom’s but masculine, on his head) was walking me down an aisle.
I never expected to have that, my Dad walking me down the aisle, not since I was fifteen and their plane went down. If I ever settled on a guy, I knew there would be no Dad walking me down an aisle.
So, okay, this was good or, not really since I had no clue who I was marrying but I decided to take it as such.
I looked to the front of the church that was coming ever closer and saw no cross or other church-like thing of my world but instead six enormous statues that looked carved out of ivory marble positioned to form a curve at the front. There were three men statues and three women starting with a man with legs planted, hands on hips; the next was a woman looking down at her belly where both her hands were resting; the next was a man who had one arm straight out, his legs separated, knees slightly bent, his other arm lifted, hand looking at the ready to pull what looked like a sword from his back; the next, another woman, this one had one arm dangling in front of her, her hand loosely opened at her pubis, her other arm lifted and resting on the side of her neck, a weird smile playing at her lips on her slightly downturned face; the next, a man with legs planted, arms crossed; and the last, a woman standing with her hands loosely cupped together, fingertips touching each other, head slightly bowed, lips to her hands.
Weird.
In front of this display stood a man wearing white robes with a long, wide satin band around his neck and dangling down his front bearing stripes starting with dark blue then light blue, red, deep violet, gold then bright green.
Okay, interesting. It seemed in this world they had more than one god. It was going to be cool learning more about that.
I sucked in breath to say something to my Dad, anything, and to get him to say something in return then it caught in my throat as a man moved to stand in front of and to the side of the man in white robes then that man looked down the aisle at me.
My step faltered when I took in all that was him and there was a lot that was him to take in.
“Sjofn,” Dad growled, his hand over mine in the crook of his arm tensing. He felt my step falter and he thought I was going to bolt. With effort, I pulled my shit together and kept walking.
But I was thinking, oh no.
And that would be a big, oh no, no, no, no.
No.
Was that…? Was he…?
Oh shit. He was. He had to be. He was standing at the front of the church.
It was The Dragon.
It was my groom.
And I got his name. I totally got it with the way he was glowering at me like he most assuredly did not like me, he also did not want to be there and further, what he did want to be doing was slaughtering entire villages either with weapons or, perhaps, breathing fire at them and setting them alight.
He was massive. I was five six. He had to be six three or six four. His hair was very dark, very thick with bit of wave and it curled around the turtleneck of his sweater that was a dark brown so dark it was nearly black. He did not wear weird leather shorts but wool breeches that fit him snug and did not come near to hiding the power of his massive, muscular thighs. The same could be said for his sweater which did not hide the breadth and brawn of his shoulders. He had on boots that went to just below his knees and I saw that he didn’t bother shining them for his nuptials. They were smudged and even had dirt and mud on them. There was a leather band slanting across his chest, under his ribs at one side, over his shoulder at the other but there were no gold, rubies or anything on his. I saw the fall of a cloak, this one not a lustrous fur pelt like Dad’s but a simple hide.