Although the House of Drakkar held vast wealth and property across Lunwyn, they were known to be ruthless in business, more often than not untrustworthy and autocratic with their servants and those who worked their lands. They were also known to be superior, condescending and dedicated to the order of things. That was to say they were nobles and everyone else were little people and everyone knew their place, stayed in their place and served their purpose.

This, clearly, they’d instilled in Frey.

But that was, strangely, all they instilled in Frey. For the first time in over seven hundred years, his birth heralded a true leader in the House of Drakkar and it was known widely his mother and father were overjoyed, not to mention filled with conceit that they had created the undisputed head of their House.

But, to my shock, the girls told me that at thirteen, Frey had walked away from all of that. He’d walked away from his family, his home and the House of Drakkar, boarded a ship, talked its captain into employing him and turned his back on that life and his House.

And he never went back. In fact, to this day, he had very little to do with his House except carry their name.

Although he went on to own many properties, amass great wealth (for, when sailing, Frey didn’t only raid, he also loaded his ships’ stores with goods and brought them back to Lunwyn to trade), command his own fleet and the men who sailed it, he had nothing to do with his House except the fact that he bore their name, the stamp of aristocracy they drilled into him growing up and the command of elves and dragons he’d somehow inherited through their blood.

This, I had to admit, considering the stories about his family, I respected too.

And, I had to admit as I made my way through my Palace to my rooms, it was becoming clear to me that I might have overreacted a wee bit about Frey and his dalliance with Viola.

He couldn’t know it (though, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling he did even though this was impossible), it was not me he’d humiliated but the other Sjofn. And he’d thought she was a lesbian or, the girls told me, they were referred to here as guenipes.

And the girls knew all about Sjofn’s tendencies which also, considering the sexual openness, were not frowned upon in either sex, unless, of course the guenipe happened to be a princess and needed to bring forth a future king. Therefore, Sjofn had not only hidden her preferences, doing so for her country and her father, the king, she’d never allowed herself to act on them and vowed to her girls that in this world, for country and king, she never would (which was extremely sad).

Because of this (and Frey knowing it), it was doubtful Sjofn would care about Frey getting it on with Viola, if Viola was her servant or not. And it was definite that Sjofn wasn’t really allowed to care even if she would because what Frey said held true from my girls. He was a man, he was an aristocrat and he could do as he wished, when he wished and with whom he wished.

Although dalliances and affairs before marriage were commonplace, after marriage (yep, you guessed it), the wife desisted in these behaviors but it was not expected for the husband to do the same. It was commonplace for husbands to honor their wives and only their wives, most specifically amongst those of the lower classes but also some aristocrats. But it was not unheard of for a husband to do as he would and the wife was expected to turn the other cheek.

This did not sit well with me but I had to remind myself that I was not in my world. I was here. And Frey could have no idea I was from another world, how that world was and how it looked on these things and unfortunately was justifiably livid that I had an expectation that any Lunwynian woman and especially a wife should most definitely not have.

This sucked. It also meant that, as much as it chafed, I was in the wrong.

I just didn’t know what to do about it.

Because, although he was within his rights to do as he wished, especially since we were not married at the time he took Viola to his bed, he had asked her to serve the table right in front of me.

There was, of course, the small fact that, back when the deed was done, I had no clue he or his world even existed and he still had no clue mine did, so he was right in his weird questioning if he had actually injured me. He had not, I had just grown into my place in this world and I forgot that it actually wasn’t my place.

But still, Frey rubbing my nose in his dalliance and the mean-spirited way he did it, well… that was not nice.

And that was what was holding me back from doing anything at all.

Because that hurt. A lot.

Too much.

I’d ascended the stairs and was moving down the hall toward my rooms thinking that what sucked the most was that I missed him.

A lot.

Too much.

Logically, in the recesses of my head, I recognized this distance was probably good. Although I enjoyed spending time with the Frey I’d come to know and would have definitely enjoyed spending more time with him doing more things with him, specifically some of the things we could have been doing, the smart thing to do was keep a distance and I’d been getting in too deep.

Illogically and in the forefront of my mind, I wanted what we had back.

And that, too, was a lot.

Too much.

My girls were fun to be with, they laughed often and Sjofn was right, it was very clear they were trustworthy and they had been immensely helpful. I had a great time with them. I was enjoying spending time with Mother and discovering Fyngaard. I definitely liked learning more about this world because it was all very strange but very cool. Being a princess in a Palace, I’d learned, pretty much rocked. And I was making inroads with Father, which pleased me immensely.

But on Valentine’s line of happiness, I was no longer anywhere near bliss. I was no longer smack dab in the middle of happiness either.

I was definitely at the lower end, hovering around contentment.

And I was there, I knew, because I didn’t have Frey.

I opened my door and stopped before entering when I saw Mother in the armchair across the room, her legs crossed, her long fingernails scratching Penelope’s ruff. A Penelope who was lying on my mother’s thigh with her eyes closed, purring.

Hmm. This was unusual. If Queen Aurora wanted to spend time with me, she sent a servant to tell me she wished my attendance.

I wondered why she was there and I worried the reason was not good.

Her eyes came to me and she greeted, “Hello, my Sjofn.”

I took her in. Her face was blank thus gave no clues.

Damn. From past experience with her, I did not know if this was good or bad. She’d been warmer to me but I’d also learned from my girls that Queen Aurora could be moody, her expectations were high and those expectations were significantly elevated when it came to her daughter. Who knew what I could do to make her minimal warmth disappear and the frost return? It could be anything.