Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
T he next morning, I didn’t wait until breakfast to leave my room. It wasn’t as though I was a prisoner here, however much I felt enslaved to the whims of a particular princess.
I had no desire to spend another hour pacing or going through my daily conditioning exercises within these four walls.
So I dressed and headed to the barracks to do morning drills with my men, Pavel at my side. I had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity about the training of the men here, too.
There had been an air of carelessness to the soldiers on the road that was entirely at odds with what I would expect from a kingdom ruled by the man who was so feared in my kingdom that even his hair color was taboo, along with his Warrior Queen.
Perhaps our worries of a war had been ill-founded.
It was warm this morning, though the sun was barely peeking over the towering outer walls of the castle. Not for the first time, I noted that the castle itself was certainly defensible, likely due at least in part to my father’s breaching of the former building’s walls only two decades ago.
But a strong castle was not equal to a strong military.
The training grounds were crowded when I arrived, soldiers milling about performing unsynchronized warm-up activities of various intensities. Lady Gwyn was already in a sparring ring, yanking a red-faced soldier to his feet.
She nodded in my direction before turning her attention to a new soldier who was taking the place of the first.
The corner of her mouth tilted up.
“Sure you don’t want a buddy in the ring this time, Cason?” she taunted, raising her sword. “I’ll let you cheat, just this once, for the sake of your pride.”
The men in the arena laughed, and Cason gave a good-natured shake of his head.
“Ye’ll no’ be laughin’ when it’s yer turn, ye wee eejits,” he called, rolling his R’s and truncating his syllables sharply, an exaggerated version of the king’s accent.
“Did you catch a word of that?” Pavel murmured.
The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted me before I could answer, and I turned to see the Captain of the Guard approaching.
“Prince Finnian,” I greeted with a shallow bow.
“Lord Evander. Master Pavel,” he returned, giving a respectful nod of his head to us both.
“You’ve met,” I observed drily.
I wasn’t aware my soldiers had been doing much fraternizing, and why, if they were doing so with a prince of Lochlann, they hadn’t thought to mention it at all.
“I make it my business to know every armed soldier who walks through the gates,” the prince said with a small smirk, obviously registering my annoyance. It was jarring how insightful so many members of this family were, ferreting out the reactions I had spent a lifetime learning to hide.
That trait must have skipped my lemmikki.
“I can hardly fault you there,” I allowed.
He looked around, taking in the arena with a glance. “I’m told things are far more regimented in Socair.”
I followed his gaze to the soldiers who were still doing a random assortment of exercises in the courtyard, a few of them barely moving at all as they sipped from tin mugs with half-lidded eyes. Even Lady Gwyn had stepped away from the sparring ring to help herself to another breakfast pastry, like this was some casual event rather than a rigorous training session.
“That’s a fair assessment.” Storms thank my Socairan upbringing for letting me say that without a trace of derision. Mocking their soldiers would hardly contribute to our goal of mutual peace.
The prince’s amber eyes gleamed like he had heard it anyway, but he didn’t rear back in offense. Instead, his smirk widened into a full smile.
“It’s been my experience that any true battle comes with a certain amount of chaos.”
I nodded. “That’s been my experience as well. I suppose that’s why we prioritize inculcating our men with a sense of order ahead of time.”
“An admirable goal, but I might argue that it matters less than adaptability. That’s what won us the war, in the end.” He softened a bit on those words, as though he was preserving my feelings when he was the one who lost his parents to the cause.
The last thing I wanted to do was rub salt in his wounds, but since he seemed to be inviting discourse, I shook my head.
“In the absence of black powder and a man bold enough to use it, that kind of discipline can make or break a war,” I countered.
He let out a slow, thoughtful breath.
“Oli and I led the forces from Castle Alech here, when it was under attack. Do you know what I found?”
His parents, strung up on the outer wall, courtesy of my blood-thirsty father.
“I’m not talking about the carnage,” he corrected quickly. “But do you know how long this castle lasted under siege with the bulk of its military away and the walls themselves breached?”
I didn’t know. My father had only ever spoken of his victory.
“The point is, traditional methods are good and well when you’re in ideal circumstances. When you have the numbers in your favor, the weapons you need, the men you trust most. But what about when you have none of those things?”
I chewed on his words, wondering if I had ever been outnumbered, outmatched. I had always had more skill, more men at my back, an array of weapons.
The prince adjusted his stance, crossing his arms as he studied me.
“Why don’t you stay for training this morning?” he suggested.
I still wasn’t sold on his methodology, but neither was I na?ve enough to underestimate a man who had fought in a war he was destined to lose, where he had been targeted for his position alone, and come out on the other side.
“You would offer that to your enemy?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He raised his eyebrows. “I would offer that to anyone who might someday be the last defense of someone I love.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant his niece, or if he was referring to the fact that I had suggested his daughter as an alternative—not that I could imagine the latter ever needing or wanting anyone to defend her. Either way, it was an opportunity I would have been an idiot to pass up.
True to his word, the captain—or Finn, as he insisted I refer to him—ran the men and his daughter through a series of drills that forced them to adapt to various circumstances. He had them assisting one another blindfolded, removing one or both shoes, and dueling with whatever they could find in the arena that was not a crafted weapon.
That last one reminded me a bit of the Besklanovvy arming themselves with pitchforks and whatever else they had at hand, in the absence of swords.
I still doubted they were a match for the relentless training and stamina of my men, but his methods weren’t without merit. So, I was resolved to consider how I might put his tactics to use to train my men once I returned home.
Since my arrival in Lochlann, I had wondered more than once what would happen if I were to return with a semblance of a trade agreement only to find that the villages in Bear had been razed to ash in my stead. I had never been away from my father for so long, had never left another to manage his whims for more than a couple of weeks.
And while I could read between the lines of Taras's letters, I suspected there was plenty he would decline to mention through correspondence. Where the duke was concerned, there was sure to be at least one incident in the time I was away.
As a result, my men had learned to be adaptable in a different, entirely less pleasant way, but I had never thought to train them without basic equipment.
The prince and I debated a few more points of training while we walked to breakfast. We were some of the first to arrive, only Jocelyn, Oliver, and Isla having beaten us. Korhonan was next, of course, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I gestured to his seat like I was hosting him.
He sank into his chair with a grimace, greeting me tersely before turning more warmly to the rest of the room. Even with Gwyn having to wash up first, she reached the small dining room just a few minutes later, followed shortly by the king and queen, along with their three youngest daughters.
Then four sets of footsteps trudged around the corner.
My lemmikki didn’t even spare the energy to glare at me before sinking into her seat, resting her head on her hand. Her cousins and sister followed, all looking decidedly worse for wear.
The king shook his head as he looked at them all, but a grin tilted the corner of his mouth as he took a sip of his coffee, slamming his mug down on the table with far more force than was necessary.
Gallagher winced, but Avani glared at her father outright, looking like she was prepared to match every inch of his temper with her own. The only one unbothered by the noise was Gwyn, who continued piling food onto her plate as if nothing was going on around her.
“Didn’t any of you think to ask Clara for a tonic this morning?” Oliver asked, shaking his head in a combination of amusement and annoyance.
Rowan scoffed. “Well, we would have, but she said Mamá and Auntie Isla had taken her last two this morning, so she’d have to brew some more.”
The queen smothered what I was sure was a laugh, while Isla shrugged her shoulders in a show of feigned innocence.
Rowan went on, her voice hoarse as she gestured to Gallagher. “And you know Gal refuses to—” she cut off abruptly, straightening slightly in her chair. “Make tonics for us,” she finished.
I narrowed my eyes, noting the way the energy at the table had gone noticeably tense.
“I just feel that my energy could be better spent,” Gallagher said with a smirk that was a little too pasted-on.
“I hope your head is killing you right now,” Davin muttered, pouring a steaming mug of coffee.
Gradually, everyone eased their shoulders.
“Probably not as much as yours is,” Gallagher shot back.
The servants interrupted whatever response Davin might have made when they brought a tray of steaming cinnamon buns out. Rowan turned noticeably green next to me.
I leaned down to murmur in her ear. “You know, I thought you might have been ill upon your return, but I think I’m beginning to understand why your family was so surprised to see you eating.”
She whirled in her chair to face me. “Who told you that?”
“You just did.”
Her lips parted, outrage overtaking her queasy expression.
“It’s hardly any of your business what I put in my mouth,” she muttered.
Davin choked on his coffee, and her cheeks colored while I fought to keep my features very, very even.
“But I tell you what. In the incredibly unlikely event that we marry, perhaps you can commission a bird to fly all the way from my kingdom to yours every day to keep you apprised of my eating habits,” she flung at me, as though she hadn’t jumped at that aspect of the proposal.
I let out a breath through my nose. “Perhaps I shall, if you can’t manage the basic task of feeding yourself. Or restraining yourself, as the case may be,” I murmured behind my mug.
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a bottle of vodka in both of his nightstands.”
At some point, we had moved incrementally closer to one another, enough that I could see the paler strands of green weaving through her jade-colored eyes and could acutely feel the energy that constantly hummed from her body to mine.
A fact that was not helped by the visceral images her words brought forth, of her wild curls sprawled across my pillow and her victorious cackle interrupting my work. Of a time when we were more than veritable strangers fighting for something I wasn't sure either of us wanted.
At least, not like this. Though, anything was better than her marrying Korhonan.
“Well, in fairness, one of those was by your request,” I reminded her in a low tone, wondering if she heard what I wasn’t saying.
I certainly wasn’t there alone, Lemmikki.
Her brow furrowed, a huff of air escaping her.
Then the king set down his mug with another audible thump, a sharpened sword slicing through the mounting tension between his daughter and me.
She straightened in her chair, and I blinked, the rest of the room coming into focus once more. There was a palpable silence, punctuated with looks that ranged from interest to concern.
And, of course, barely concealed rage on the features of the king.
Apparently, neither of our tones had been as low as we might have hoped.
“We will meet in the Council Room with Elk today,” King Logan said pointedly. “To discuss terms of that alliance.”
I dug deep inside for all the calm I was used to feigning at my own court, nodding graciously like the thought didn’t make me want to set this room on fire.
Rowan nodded, her cheeks coloring. “Of course.”
She reached for Korhonan’s hand in an apology, and it was my turn to feel queasy. I forced myself to eat a reasonable amount of breakfast anyway, cognizant that it was a luxury many of my people would kill for. Had killed for.
It was the reminder I needed of all that was at stake—the peace I couldn’t upset for the sake of running my sword through Korhonan’s smarmy face. No matter how tempting it was.