Broken Dove (Page 87)
Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(87)
Author: Kristen Ashley
My stomach lurched but I said nothing.
Crisis averted, a new trauma right on its heels.
Such was my life.
Oh boy.
* * * * *
Ten minutes later, I stood in the great room trying not to fidget with my hands. Apollo was standing up in the entryway listening to something Laures had to say but his eyes were on me.
The minute we got downstairs, we’d run into a maid and he’d called for the kids.
I was trying to keep it together but I feared if I had to wait one more second, I’d fail.
At that thought, luckily (kind of) I heard a commotion and saw Élan round the corner at a run, Christophe coming slower at her heels.
She stopped dead when she saw me.
I clenched my hands together and tried not to hyperventilate.
Her gaze shot to her dad.
“Is Miss Madeleine coming with us?” she called across the expanse to her father.
“Indeed, precious girl,” Apollo called back.
She instantly threw both her hands up in the air and cried, “Huzzah!” sticking out her booty and shaking it side-to-side.
Abruptly, she stopped doing this and turned to her brother, pointing at him, a triumphant look on her face.
She then announced, “Ha, Chris! Another girl is coming with us. That means when we stop to take lunch, we don’t have to shoot at things with arrows and have snowball fights. That means we can make snow castles and talk to the bunnies!” She stuck her booty back out and swung it around again, pumping her arms at her sides and crying, “Huzzah! Huzzah-huzzah-huzzah!”
I looked to Christophe.
He was watching his sister with a disgusted look on his face.
Shit.
He turned his eyes to me, that look dissolved and he grinned.
My heart thumped.
I grinned back then looked to Apollo.
He was smiling at his children.
Then he said, “Let us go.”
Élan dashed to me, grabbed my hand and started tugging me toward the stairs.
Feeling her little hand in mine made me catch my breath so hard, it hurt.
But I didn’t mind the pain.
I let her lead me up the steps, Christophe joined his father and they walked out first, Élan now skipping beside me as we followed and I tried to hold her hand in a casual way when I wanted to hold her so tight, I’d never be able to let go.
Apollo looked over his shoulder as he descended the front steps, his eyes dropping to his daughter then coming to mine.
And on his face, that tender look was way, way, way off the f**king charts.
Thus every inch of me warmed in a way I knew I could put on a bikini and the chill of Lunwyn wouldn’t touch me.
Élan was right.
Huzzah!
* * * * *
One hour and fifteen minutes later, my trunks packed into one of two sleighs, the guys on horses all around (including Quincy and Balthazar, Apollo, of course, and Christophe on his own mount, like his dad), I got into the sleigh I’d be driving, my eyes on Élan who was bouncing on her bottom in the seat, the fur throw in her hands, crying, “Sit, Miss Madeleine. Sit. Sit! Let’s be away!”
I looked to the sleigh behind mine that held Loretta, Meeta and Bella, the children’s maid.
I then looked to Apollo who was talking to Remi.
Finally, I sat, Élan threw the throw over me and I took the reins.
“Miss Madeleine is in, Papa!” Christophe called.
“Excellent,” Apollo replied then ordered to the group of ten riders and two sleighs, “Proceed!”
I flicked the reins, the horses moved, the sleigh started gliding over the snow as fat, fluffy flakes of more drifted down, and the horses around us closed ranks.
But I looked back to the house to see Cristiana standing in the opened front door.
When I caught her eye, she waved. Then she winked.
I smiled and blew her a kiss.
Then I turned to facing front just as Élan asked, “Do you know how to make snow castles, Miss Madeleine?”
“No, honey,” I answered quietly.
“I’ll teach you,” she declared.
My lips curved up.
Hu…
Fucking…
Zah!
Chapter Eighteen
Brunskar
“Wake her, Maddie.”
I heard Apollo’s soft words and looked up at him standing beside the sleigh.
Élan was tucked to my side, sleeping.
From my experience, the days were always short in Lunwyn so it was dark. That said, it was also late.
And we’d made it to Brunskar, the Drakkar seat.
We’d been traveling for ten days through Lunwyn and I knew the distance was long and the errand important because our hours on the go were longer than when Apollo and I were away on our aborted journey to Bellebryn.
This meant we usually took lunch and dinner by stopping along the way. It also meant Christophe was near-on dropping from his horse (but he’d never do that, as his father would never do that and Chris, I’d learned, was keen to do everything like his dad).
And usually, at the end of the day, Élan was asleep at my side.
So when we stopped, it was to get a sleepy Élan and an exhausted Christophe to their baths (Bella oversaw this), take our own (Meeta and Loretta took care of mine) and hit the sack.
During our long journey I’d learned that Christophe liked studying math and also English (or the language of the Vale). He timidly shared that he liked to study the language of the Vale because he wrote stories (this timidity evaporated when Apollo straight up bragged about how great they were which meant I was able to talk Chris into letting me read one when we got back to Karsvall). Adding to his artistic bent, he liked to draw.
But best of all, he liked to shoot his bow and arrow (and that bulls-eye was no fluke, he practiced any chance he got, even in the midst of eating a sandwich, and I saw close up that he was good at it).
This last was because he also shared what his father already shared with me. He wanted to be a soldier, just like his father.
Élan, I’d learned, did not like any studies. However she did like “serving tea” (when this was described, I knew she was talking about tea parties since Bella, various maids at Karsvall and her dolls were the usual attendees). She also liked to make snow castles and snow witches (what were referred to as snow angels in my world, except you punched a hat into the snow when you were done). And she liked pretty much everything else under the sun.
When she grew up, on the other hand, she was determined to marry Frey Drakkar, “The handsomest man in Lunwyn,” she’d breathed. This was her heart’s desire and she didn’t care that he was too old for her. She also didn’t care that he was married to Sjofn, or Finnie, the Ice Princess of Lunwyn. How she intended to overcome these rather large obstacles, I had no clue and didn’t ask. She didn’t need to know how huge they were so I didn’t share. She would grow out of it and find her own (age-appropriate, single, I hoped) hot guy.