Page 55 of Quest for her Knights (The Lost Souls of Dyconia #5)

Knock knock knock.

Who’s banging on my door at this ungodly hour of the morning? I try to crack my eyes open, but my head feels foggy and heavy. How much did I drink last night?

Knock knock knock.

“Hold on,” I moan as I try to move my limbs. I push through the grogginess and crack my eyes open. Why is it so bright in my bedroom? Did I forget to shut my blinds?

I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the light. When the room around me comes into focus, I sit up with a gasp, looking all around me. This is not my apartment.

“Where the hell am I?” I ask the empty room as I look ar ound more carefully.

There’s a large plush canopy bed made of light wood.

The four corner posts are covered in intricate carvings, and sheer pink curtains hang all around, but are tied back to the posts.

The bedding is a baby pink and as I scan the room I see matching rugs and curtains around the large windows.

Gag, I hate pink. I quickly climb to my feet from where I’m laying on the dark hardwood floor and make my way over to the window.

My legs feel a little wobbly as my head tries to catch up with my sudden movement, but as I place my hands on the wooden window ledge and peer out, a rush of nausea fills me.

I see miles and miles of forest, ending at what looks like mountains.

But they must be hundreds of miles away, a mere speck in the distance.

Once again, I find myself asking, “where the hell am I?”

Knock knock knock.

The loud banging makes me jump, and I turn my attention to the bedroom door.

“Freya! Open up, right now!” a loud, angry, male voice calls out, making my eyes go wide.

Who the hell is that? And how does he know my name? I definitely don’t recognize the voice and there are no men in my life who know where I live, let alone would be knocking on my apartment door.

But as my eyes dance around from the full-length mirror with a finely carved wooden frame to the oversized wooden wardrobe, I realize I don’t recognize this place. Where am I? How did I get here, and who’s knocking at my door?

“Come on, Freya,” a different male voice says more calmly. “You knew this day was coming. You’re long past due, so we’ve come to collect you.”

What day ? What the hell is happening? I swallow the lump in my throat before I speak, trying to sound strong and confident. “Who… who are you? What do you want?”

There’s silence for a moment before a third voice speaks calmly, “Freya, it’s me, Grayson. Stop fooling around. We’ve come a long way to get you. The least you can do is open the door. Please.” He adds on the last word after a brief silence.

“I don’t know any Grayson. Just… just leave me alone, please,” I call back, trying not to sound angry at these strange men for bringing me here. But if they locked me in here, wouldn’t they have the key to unlock the door?

That thought gives me pause as I slowly take a few quiet steps towards the door to get a better look.

Sure enough, I see a deadbolt that’s been locked from the inside.

I glance around, looking for another exit, but there is none.

And the view from the window tells me I’m at least three or four stories up.

Does that mean I locked myself in? Why don’t I remember that?

“I’ve had enough. Talon, grab something to knock these hinges loose,” the angry, first voice says, making me jump back a step. They’re going to break the door down?

I quickly scan the room for some sort of weapon, and as my hands move to look for my phone in my pocket, I finally realize what I’m wearing.

“What the hell?” I ask, looking down at the navy-blue dress.

It looks like something I’d wear to a Renaissance fair, you know, if I actually had a social life.

The tightly gathered material across my bust is a cream color, framed in navy, that matches the rest of the dress.

It’s fitted to my waist, then hangs down from there.

This is not something I would sell at Amy’s Boutique, the clothing store I own. We sell much more practical and affordable clothing. Especially as the surrounding neighborhood is best described as low income. I have never even seen a dress like this in real life, although it is beautiful.

A few loud bangs bring my attention back to the door, and before I can prepare myself, it’s lifted from its spot by several large men and placed in the hall, leaning against the wall.

Five sets of eyes turn towards me. I see a flicker of surprise in them before a few of them start to glare.

One man, who stands around six feet tall with tousled light brown hair, takes a small step towards me.

His hazel eyes still hold surprise and shock in them.

Now he sees me, he must realize I’m not who they think I am.

There has obviously been some sort of mix-up here.

“Freya…” he whispers, sounding stunned as his eyes roam my body. Is that heat I see there? “You gained weight.”

“Excuse me?!” I screech, my head snapping back in shock. The nerve of this man! I’ve never even met him before, but even if I had, who says that to a woman?

“You look… good. Better.”

“Uhh…” What the hell am I supposed to say to that? My eyes glance around at the other four men surrounding him. And I take a moment to get a really good look at them.

They are, well, quite frankly, they’re hot.

They all share similar facial features, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re related.

The shortest man looks to be about five foot eleven, and even he seems to tower over my five foot six frame.

The others are all around six to six foot three.

They’re all massive and chiseled by the looks of them.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I ask, trying to fight my instinct to take a step backwards. Instead, I clench my fists at my sides, trying to stand my ground and appear strong, even though I’m terrified on the inside.

A few of them exchange glances as the one who called me fat frowns at me. He speaks again, “Freya, do you seriously expect us to believe you’ve already forgotten our names?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” the man with dark blond hair that falls in waves around his ears says, as his deep green eyes move from the first man to me.

“She doesn’t give one shit about us, why would she even try to remember our names?

” He cocks his head to the side, and it looks like he’s trying to see right through me.

I see a small quirk of his lips before he adds, “isn’t that right, Princess? ”

“I don’t know what sort of game you’re all playing at, but I don’t know you.

I would definitely remember meeting you,” I tell green eyes as my eyes trail over his body, my tongue peaking out to lick my bottom lip.

He’s slender but I can tell he must be somewhat toned through his fitted tan colored tunic that he’s wearing over dark brown pants and a pair of boots.

His clothing matches the same era as mine, all of their clothing does.

His eyebrows start to pinch together in confusion before he schools his expression.

“Is this some sort of reenactment? How did I even get here?” I reach up to rub my temple, the fogginess has faded but one of my signature headaches is starting to make my head throb.

“Okay, enough of this, where are your bags?” The tallest, angry looking one says as he pushes through his friends to stand directly in front of me. He’s the first one who spoke through my door, and he isn’t any less intimidating in person.

He stops two feet from me and I stare up at his six foot two muscular frame, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He has the broadest shoulders of any man I’ve ever seen in real life.

His dark brown hair is trimmed short, and he has a rugged, chiseled jawline, similar to the others, but his is even more defined.

His angry blue eyes stare daggers at me as he stands there with his hands on his hips.

I notice a sword strapped to his belt and wonder if it’s real.

“Freya!” He barks my name, making my wide-eyed gaze dart up to his face.

“Yes?”

He grinds his teeth before speaking each word slowly. “Where. Are. Your. Bags?”

“Look… sir , I don’t even know where I am, let alone where my bags are,” I snap back at him, crossing my arms under my chest. His eyes flash with some emotion I don’t recognize before dropping down to my chest, and I follow his eye line, realizing I’ve inadvertently pushed up my boobs, exposing a large amount of cleavage.

I immediately drop my arms, placing my hands on my hips again, as my headache starts to press harder against my temples.

“Arlo, don’t worry,” the shortest man says, coming up to stand at his side, wearing a smile on his soft looking lips.

His hair is the same color as Arlo’s, but it’s kept a few inches longer and looks like he’s constantly running his fingers through it.

His warm brown eyes move to me when he speaks next.

“We’ll just pack for her if she doesn’t want to lift a finger to help. ”

His smile turns into more of an evil smirk before he turns to look at Arlo, who looks down at him as his expressions slowly changes to a matching smirk. “You’re right, Talon, what kind of men would we be if we didn’t help our wife pack?”

“Wife!?” I practically choke on the word, but they both turn away before I even get it out. I watch with wide eyes as the five of them move around my room, opening drawers and cupboards loudly.

“Well, since she didn’t pack any trunks, we don’t have to take the carriage with us, we can all ride on horseback,” the man who called me Princess says calmly, after a few minutes of them rummaging through the room.

“Good idea, Pyke. Cash, go with him and grab a few empty saddle bags, we’ll fill those up and distribute them amongst the horses.” They all give me strange smirks or scowls as they move. I feel like somehow I’m the butt of a joke I don’t get.