Dragons and Princes - [COMPLETE]

16. Faeana

It was a dream, nothing more.

That was her first thought when she woke groggily, finding Fae curled at her back, asleep. Faeana lifted her arm and reached to scratch the gold and white fur of the frey’s soft fur, and a glimmer of silver on her hand startled her, waking her abruptly as the night came flooding back. The floating feeling dissolved instantly.

She had dreamed of peace, with Patreos as her husband, their love beautiful and tender.

Now she recalled that Patreos’s eyes had been red in the dream; they had been Marquis’s eyes. She shivered, sitting up and pulling off the Morganthe ring. It was a perfect fit to her finger, which she found odd.

Faeana wanted to ask aloud, "What have I done . . .?" but the words wouldn’t form. Her chin trembled. The metal band felt oddly heavy suddenly, as if weighed with impending doom, as though even this would be for naught. Bowing her head, she massaged her temples and then hid the ring. Soon enough, she would have to face her people with Marquis Morganthe at her side as her king and mate.

What if this didn’t work? Would she find a blade in her belly and watch him be slaughtered in response? Both the Morganthes and the Dagurs would die out, for there was only one other Dagur, her father Eiran, and two other Morganthes. As far as the Freyja could guess, Marquis’s mother was only Morganthe by name because she’d married into the family, and his sister was but a child, not yet old enough to even rule.

Faeana hid the ring rather than putting it back on, but for the rest of the day, and the following days, she felt it as though it was still wrapped around her finger.

The Freyja princess met with her father, who had seen to most of the preparations of her coronation, and he took her to the side to speak with her. "Again, you say nothing, Faeana," he said low, "haven’t you heard anything I’ve told you?" She nodded curtly, finger prickling as she drew her thumb across it where Marquis’s ring had been. Her father noticed. "Have you decided upon your husband?"

Again, she nodded. "Yes." She hadn’t been sleeping a lot because she was afraid to sleep. She’d also had a lot on her mind. "Since Salei died, I’ve been preparing to become queen, but I did not expect I would ever have to take the throne until Jöra was killed. I know I can serve as queen, I know what to do, but I don’t know if I will be the queen who watches the end of the war come with bloodshed or peace, and I don’t want the man I marry to take from me my hope of ending this war by doing something irrational." If her father knew she’d done the most irrational thing any Freyja could ever imagine, he would have been horrified. If he knew the enemy king had visited her in her own room, which was quite improper, he would have been outraged. He had no idea Marquis could have slain the Dagurs all in their sleep but had chosen not to do so, or that after Faeana became queen, she would marry him. Her heart skipped sickly again with dread. She could not revoke her word unless she and Marquis thought of something else.

Again, it was improper for Marquis to have come to her in such a way, but tactically, it was the safest place for him to speak with her undisturbed. She was not stupid enough not to fear him, but had he truly wanted her dead, she would already have been a number of occasions. Faeana told herself as much over and over to try to calm her nerves. Had he intended her harm, he would have lifted his hand and struck her down long ago.

Eiran Dagur’s lips flattened into a thin line, and his hard gaze tried to read hers, but her composure was too strong, as was Fae’s. They were both rigid with tension, but even that did not glint in the light of his survey. "Are you not going to marry Patreos?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she did not confirm or deny. "I don’t want to talk about it, Father. I’ve chosen who I will marry, as you asked me to, and I will marry him after I am queen."