He cut me off to say, “Two.”

I blinked at him in the dark then asked, “What?”

“Two,” he repeated then continued. “A courtesan in Fleuridia and that time it was not about a deeper meaning but an intense experience. It had no meaning. I don’t even recall her name.”

Hmm.

“And a woman in Sudvic,” he went on. “A widow who I visited frequently when I was in the city and this acquaintance lasted some time. She introduced it in an attempt to get me to feel more about what we shared than was there. But if it isn’t there, you can’t make it be there. Her attempt backfired for she exposed how she felt about me, feelings I knew I couldn’t return. I came to understand it was unfair to give her hope by continuing our liaison and shortly after, I stopped visiting her.” His arms gave me another squeeze and he explained, “Adele rules passion but she holds no sway over love.”

I was pleased he was honest and trusted me without hesitation with stories of his past. That felt nice and said a lot of good things about him.

But at his mention of love, I held my breath hoping he wouldn’t notice I was holding my breath and also hoping that maybe he was about to share something so I could share something, both of which were crucially important.

I quietly let my breath out when he didn’t.

I hid my disappointment with another question. “So the Lunwynians don’t actually have a goddess of love, just passion and motherhood?”

“For the ancients, when the dragons flew freely, they did,” Frey answered and he gave me another squeeze and whispered, “Her name was Sjofn.”

I held my breath again and after awhile let it out when he said no more.

Then I shared, “My parents named me after a Norse goddess of love. She was an ancient goddess too. They did this because I was born with my hair. They thought it looked like snow. There’s a lot of snow in Scandinavia so that’s why they decided on that. They were going to name me Tabitha.”

His body shook with a brief chuckle before he stated, “You are not a Tabitha.”

No, this was true.

“It’s spelled differently,” I informed him. “No one would get it the way it was spelled and they didn’t want people to mess it up so they spelled it S… e… o…a… f… i… n.”

He pressed closer to me, indicating, like he always did in some sweet, gentle way when I shared something he liked learning, that he liked learning the spelling of my name before he muttered, “This was probably wise.”

“They were very wise,” I concurred then I said as if to myself, “I wonder if it’s the same goddess in both worlds.”

“This, my wee one, we will probably never know.”

Probably not.

“Though,” Frey went on, “I find, if you pay attention, there are curious links to your world and mine. For instance, the Aurora of this world could clearly be your mother in both.”

This was also true, I’d noticed that too.

I sighed. Then I muttered, “I wonder what the you of my world is like.”

His arms got tight and he said gently but firmly, “This, my Finnie, you will definitely never know.”

I had to admit, his firm response was a tad surprising but the words he said were undoubtedly true.

I brought the conversation around full circle and said softly, “You’re hungry.”

His arms relaxed and he murmured, “Indeed.”

“One of us should rustle up some food and since I haven’t decided how to get Skylar not to be terrified of me, that person should be you.”

“Indeed,” he repeated, again on a murmur but this one held humor.

“We need to eat and then we need to talk about Skylar,” I said softly.

Frey sighed before he murmured, “I had wondered when you’d get to that.”

My head tilted into the pillow. “Get to what?”

“You have been very patient, wife, but I knew eventually you would make your play to win Skylar. I see your face when you note someone is troubled. Atticus is an example, you felt his disappointment keenly, allowing it to settle in your heart, determined to do something about it. It is almost as if you experience other’s discomfort as your own and cannot abide it. Naturally, you bring light into every situation with a smile, an understanding look or a laugh, helping others to be instantly comfortable when they’re in your presence and if you don’t find this reaction, you set about doing something about it.”

God, what a nice thing to say.

And, incidentally, yes, I was so totally in love with this man.

Then he finished, “But I fear Skylar will be a challenge, even for you.”

“You’ll help me,” I guessed.

“I will, my winter bride, but he was gravely mishandled and the way he was, those wounds run deep in very dark places even your light might not penetrate.”

“Can it hurt to try?” I asked.

“Absolutely not,” I answered.

Oh yeah. I loved my husband.

Therefore I melted into him and declared, “So tomorrow, Operation Skylar commences.”

His arms convulsed and he laughed straight out. Then he bent in to kiss my forehead.

He left his lips there when he murmured, “I’ll see about food.”

He kissed me again then slid away but he pulled the velvet and hides over me until I was cocooned in warmth. In the dark, I heard him dress and then he lit the lantern by the door before I watched him pass through it.

And it felt wrong, his leaving the bed after what we’d shared and me not whispering “I love you” and also Frey not returning the sentiment.

I pulled a pillow to my front and held on tight.

Then I tilted my head to look out the window at the back of the ship and sighed deeply.

Then I forced my thoughts to food and Skylar.

There would be a time to discuss what I wanted to discuss but that time wasn’t right before Frey intended to enter a country in secret, penetrate the prince’s lover’s home and steal a priceless, ancient relic.

But there would be a time and it would be the right time.

And I’d find it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

King to Princess

Five days later…

I sat curled in the corner of the bench in front of the window and studied Skylar, who looked very small sitting behind Frey’s desk.

The tip of Skylar’s tongue was poking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on some addition and subtraction questions I’d written on a piece of paper.