Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
A s soon as the word “wedding” left the queen’s lips, the lairds cleared out of the room. Avani as well, though she squeezed her sister’s arm on the way out.
Guilt crept across Rowan’s features, and several concerned sets of eyes followed Avani out the door.
The queen made to stand, but King Logan placed a hand over hers.
“Leave her for now, mo leannan .”
“Like you left me alone?” Queen Charlotte’s quiet response was quick enough that I suspected it was not the first time the argument had taken place.
He narrowed his eyes. “Aye. When ye needed it, I did.”
The queen cast him a dubious expression, but declined to comment, instead returning her attention to the table.
“I suppose we should discuss timing first,” she suggested, looking in my direction. “And guests?”
I thought through the options quickly. Regardless of how we handled things, we would need two weddings, as had already been determined. Even if my father had been of sound mind, it would be unnecessary to have him come here, especially considering the tense politics of the situation.
Let alone that my father was the one who had strung up the queen’s parents on their own castle wall less than two decades ago.
If circumstances were different, I might have considered whether a handful more weeks away was worth the advantage of a united front, but Socairan guests would only make my father’s absence more notable.
As far as timing, I had studied the maps of Lochlann on the way in. None of the major estates were more than two weeks’ ride during the summer, and messenger birds could be sent within the day.
“There is no need to wait on anyone from Socair, given that we will host another ceremony,” I replied after a handful of seconds. “And two weeks from tomorrow would be ideal for timing.”
“Two weeks?” the king echoed.
I nodded, though I sensed his question was rhetorical. A debate rose around the table with Oliver, Jocelyn, and the royals. Only Rowan looked at me with a surprising level of understanding.
She knew what it meant for me to be away from my clan for as long as I had, the things that could occur in my absence and the fires I would have to put out when I returned.
With my Lochlannian bride in tow.
Those were thoughts for another time, when I had written Taras for an update.
In the end, King Logan did not stay long past the initial date discussion. Rowan watched him leave with a guarded expression. Her face was drawn by then, the circles beneath her eyes standing out more prominently.
I studied her more closely, looking for signs of pain. She wasn’t hunched around the wound, and her skin wasn’t sallow the way it had been in the throes of her fever. She was only tired, healing from a wound that should have done far more than fatigue her.
She needed rest, especially with her people’s festival tomorrow.
“If everything else can be decided upon after the festival, I do have a bit of work to do on my end of things as well.” Though my words were gracious, my tone was clear.
Rowan nearly sagged with relief, and I knew I had made the right call. Her mother looked from her back to me, features softening.
“Yes, I think we can adjourn for the day.”
We left after a few last-minute reminders from Jocelyn, and I escorted Rowan back to her rooms.
“I suppose it would have been too taxing for you to make that announcement in your rooms last night?” I asked her in an undertone as we made our way down the hall.
She scoffed, though even that sounded tired. “Like you made your proposal in the privacy of your rooms?”
I didn’t think the conversation would benefit from my reminder that I hadn’t actually decided to propose in advance of making that announcement, so we made the rest of our walk in silence.
Rowan’s pace was markedly slower than usual, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had misjudged the amount of pain she was in. I scanned her body as we got to her door, and she let out a sigh.
“It’s fine.” She waved a hand dismissively.
I narrowed my eyes, searching for signs of her lie-face. “Then why do you look so tired?”
She blinked irritably up at me. “Because I was awake last night debating my impending nuptials to the biggest aalio I know. Why do you look so tired?”
Her gaze flitted pointedly to the circles under my own eyes. It was a fair question, though I was somewhat surprised she had noticed since she wasn’t exactly swimming in observational skills.
I could have denied it, but there had to be room for some amount of honesty between us.
I quirked an eyebrow at her, deciding on a version of the truth. “For the same reason, I suppose.”
She huffed out a laugh, turning toward her door. “Then you hardly need to be so concerned.”
I wondered how exactly she thought I had felt when I carried her lifeless body back here less than a day ago. Bored? Unbothered?
“I’ll always be concerned when your life is on the line,” I reminded her darkly.
“And moreso, now, I suppose.” There was a flat note to her words, like she was disappointed by that fact, but it was difficult to decipher when she still wasn’t looking at me.
I put a hand under her chin, tilting it toward me until she had no choice but to meet my eyes.
“No, not moreso now,” I bit out. “Whether you’re my pet or my wife, Lemmikki, I have no intention of letting anyone touch you ever again.”
I let her hear every ounce of the lethality that pounded through my veins whenever I pictured the faces of anyone who had ever hurt her.
“Because you protect what belongs to you?” Her eyes blazed with something I couldn’t quite read.
Was she baiting me? I moved my body closer to her, deliberately skimming my hand along her waist as I reached behind her for her doorknob. Her breath hitched, and her pupils widened as she leaned just a bit forward.
Dropping my mouth closer to her ear, I murmured in a low tone. “Among other reasons.”
I turned her doorknob open with an audible click, and she backed abruptly away, the spell broken.
But her cheeks were still flushed with something that was decidedly not anger.
I let an arrogant smirk overtake my features. “Get some rest, Lemmikki. You’ll need your energy for all those games you play.”
Then I spun on my heel to head to my rooms, chuckling when her whisper of aalio followed me down the hall.
I hadn’t been lying about the work I had to do on my end, though it was somewhat harder to focus after my…interaction with Rowan at her door.
Still, the relief I had felt when she agreed to our marriage was slowly being edged out by the sheer volume of tasks I would have to undertake in preparation, beginning first and foremost with my father.
It would have been far preferable to tell him in person, but the news would reach him before I could. Even if I took the letter to the bird myself, there was every chance it would be screened on the way out, so I had to strike a careful balance between playing to my father’s needs without inadvertently incriminating myself here.
Dear Father,
Per our conversation before I left, I have secured an alliance with Lochlann to further our mutual goals. I know that you have been impatient for me to wed for the benefit of the clan, but I appreciate the trust you’ve shown in me in allowing me to negotiate the specifics of the agreement.
Your dutiful son,
Evander
I scanned the letter twice, ensuring it suited my purposes. It implied that I had obtained his permission ahead of time, a tactic I used sparingly enough that he was unlikely to be suspicious. Since many of our meetings were held in private, there was no one to contradict us, as much as Ava may have wanted to.
All I could do was hope it was enough to stay his hand until my return. And then…
Then, I just had to find a way to keep him away from my wife.
Next, I penned a quick note to Taras so he would be able to address the issue on his end as well. I told him briefly about the plans for both weddings so that he could begin planning on the Socairan end of things. Or more likely, Mila would.
Just as I was stamping my seal on my missive to my cousin, a servant arrived, carrying a missive from Princess Jocelyn.
It was a schedule, meticulously detailed. Rowan’s expression when she mentioned the week ahead made more sense when I got halfway through the list. There, nestled between a slew of social events and wedding planning was an event that contrasted sharply with the rest.
Private Memorial for Arran Colin MacKinnon.
There was a note underneath that the family wore green, but little other information. I wondered if that was custom here, to have memorials a year posthumously. I had never read anything about that, so it was more likely specific to this family, or to Mac.
The last wake I had attended had been for Arès’ father. Like all Socairan events, it had been a tedious exercise in pomp and formality. Somehow, I doubted this would be the same.
I couldn’t help but wonder how Rowan would feel about my inclusion when she so rarely let her guard down these days. I was pulled into a memory of a dark room at the undertaker’s, a quiet, resilient hand on my arm. Tears soaking my shirt in a frigid room at an inn.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I was there.