Chapter 25
S everal days passed with relatively few incidents. I went to dinner in the great hall every night, tried to avoid my stepmother, managed my father so that no one in the court caught wind of his state of mind, all while subtly conveying to the lords that I was acting Duke for everyday purposes. Because my father trusted me, of course, and wanted to train me.
Not because he was incapable.
I stepped outside of my room, pointedly ignoring the riotous mass of hair shaking with laughter as the princess bested Dmitriy at yet another game of war. At least I had the presence of mind to have another guard stationed just under the stairway and one at the end of the hall after I realized she would be so distracting to her main guard.
She ignored me in turn, though Dmitriy nodded in deference when I passed, a rueful grin on his lips. He was the oldest of the small group of soldiers directly under my command—almost like an uncle, if I had been able to allow myself that level of familiarity.
It was rare to see any of them so relaxed in the estate, but whatever invincibility the princess felt seemed to extend to them in this space.
Except Taras, who was currently the only one of my men exercising any kind of good judgment. Henrick was terrified of her, along with one or two others who had been raised in more remote villages, and the rest were decidedly soft on her.
With a sigh, I descended the stairs, making my way to yet another court dinner. The great hall was filled with the usual lords who were in residence, along with their families.
The Jevaviks had the honor of sitting at the family table tonight. The lord and his wife were more tolerable than most, and their daughter had been a longtime acquaintance.
Lady Katerina waited until my father and her parents had greeted me before doing the same.
“Lord Evander,” she intoned in a cool voice.
Her pale hair was swept back artfully, her back ramrod straight. She had a fantastic rapport with the other wives and would have made an excellent Clan Wife, if I were at all in the market for one.
But I wasn’t. I had complications in spades, and no desire to get anyone closer to the situation with my father than was absolutely necessary. I would marry once he died, and even then, I would need to assess the situation with the other clans and choose my bride accordingly.
Still, I appreciated Lady Katerina for what she was—reasonable and discreet, someone who didn’t make more of our teenage liaison than it needed to be. So I greeted her with the genuine respect I felt for her, inclining my head.
“Lady Katerina,” I responded.
“How fare our relations with Lochlann?” her father asked.
It was court speak for asking if I had decided to execute their princess after all, but asked so neutrally that I wouldn’t have known which side of that issue he fell on if he hadn’t supported me in the council room mere hours ago, when the issue came up for debate—yet again.
I pictured the feral smirk on the disheveled princess who was so unlike anyone sitting at this table and forced a bland expression.
“Well. Thank you, Lord Jevavik.”
Katerina took a sip of her wine. Questions burned in her gaze, but she wouldn’t ask, even with our history. Normally, she would wait for the ladies to have lunch and interrogate someone who was closer to the situation, but Mairi had never bothered fulfilling her duty as Clan Wife, and the ladies found her no more approachable than they did the lords.
“Good.” Lord Jevavik responded, just as Taras came to sit. “I’m relieved you have the situation under control.”
Taras blinked once, looking at his wine glass in a way that felt deliberate.
“As am I,” he said.
I resisted the urge to glare at him since I was sure I was the only one who caught his sarcasm.
The rest of dinner went relatively smoothly, but Taras walked with me back to the family room.
“Have something to say?” It was a rhetorical question since he very clearly did.
“Of course not, my lord. I certainly would never wonder why we have two extra guards on duty so that the man assigned to her door can play cards with her .”
I had known this was coming. Truthfully, I was surprised he hadn’t addressed it sooner.
“You don’t play cards with her,” I pointed out.
“Nor shall I ever. But the question remains. Weren’t you worried about Yuriy going soft for her?”
I let out a slow breath, speaking in a low tone. “What I’m worried about is that if the incredibly social, incredibly rash princess decides to hurl herself from the balcony out of distress or, more likely, try to climb down out of boredom, all my efforts to keep her alive will have been in vain. And we both know the consequences of failure.”
I wasn’t exaggerating. The princess was like a small, untrained puppy, no doubt prone to destruction left to her own devices.
“And you’re sure that’s the only reason?”
I heard cackling in the hallway, saw green eyes blazing with defiance.
“Yes, I’m sure. What exactly is it that you’re so concerned about?”
“That if you were serious about having this under control, you wouldn’t risk the men becoming so attached to her.”
I stopped to glare at him.
“You know better than anyone the lengths to which I will go for the sake of our clan.”
He blinked in what might have been remorse, but he didn’t back down.
“And if she becomes a problem?”
I pictured her bright eyes dead and unseeing, saw her tiny form crumpled on the ground, and wondered if this might be the only time I couldn’t bring myself to swing the sword.
Would Taras do it, then? Would I give the order to a random soldier who would take pleasure in the small revenge against our neighbors?
Crimson edged into my vision, and my right hand twitched toward my sword on instinct.
I barely knew her. I had no loyalty to her. I didn’t even particularly like her. Still, it almost seemed a crime to snuff out a life so vivid. But I had ended lives before. Short ones, long ones, brilliant ones, and sad ones. My loyalty was to my clan, one way or another.
“Nothing has changed, Taras. If she becomes a problem, I’ll take care of it, just as I always do. I have it under control.”
He held my gaze for a long moment before nodding, and I went upstairs, pretending I didn't see the doubt churning in his eyes.
Pretending I didn’t feel it reflected in my soul.