Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
S unlight barely peeked through the window when Davin once again helped himself to my passageway door.
“The main door is just over there, if you have trouble locating it,” I told him, sparing him a sideways glance as I dragged a razorblade along my cheek.
“Where would be the fun in that?” he shot back.
I had already been awake long enough to do my morning conditioning and bathe, but I was vaguely surprised to see him up at the early hour as well. And wearing a skirt.
Gallagher strode in behind him, dressed in a similar fashion and holding a folded bundle of clothes.
“You seem to be having all the fun you can stand,” I said, tilting my head at their choice of outfit while I dried my face with a cloth.
“And soon, so shall you.” Davin gestured to the clothes in Gallagher’s arms, which were, indeed, the same blue-and-green pattern as both of their outfits. “Don’t worry, the ladies die over them.”
“Over plaid skirts?” I raised my eyebrows.
He shrugged, holding mine out. “Kilts. And you’ll see.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t see,” Gallagher said drily. “I doubt it will play into Auntie Jocelyn’s plans if Rowan stabs one of her own citizens today.”
Davin winced. “Well, by ladies, I meant Rowan, but fair point.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I’ll make the sacrifice of distracting Fiona today, then.”
“A noble one, to be sure,” Gallagher nodded sagely.
I shook my head at their ridiculousness before taking the garments from Gallagher. The word kilt was vaguely familiar—Lochlannians wore them ceremonially—but the texts I read had never been accompanied by a picture.
Had they not been wearing them as well, I would have thought it was some giant prank.
“You came just to deliver this?” I narrowed my eyes at the captain’s son.
“And because we assumed you would require assistance in putting it on,” he responded sincerely.
“Don’t worry about his modesty, Gal,” Davin said behind his hand. “Socairans bathe all together.”
Gallagher made a thoughtful face, and I shook my head.
“We definitely do not,” I corrected. “We sauna together.”
“Eh.” Davin shrugged like there was no difference, and I suppressed a sigh. Barely.
There had not been nearly enough coffee in my day for this interaction.
Regardless of the semantics, it did turn out to be fortunate that Socairans were not particularly averse to nudity. I wondered how many more times I would be grateful for that before the day was over, given the general lack of underthings worn with the…kilt.
I did have a belt of sorts to weigh it down, as long as it wasn’t too windy outside. Perhaps Rowan would be feeling gracious enough to give me advance warning of a particularly strong breeze.
Though the way things had been since I arrived, she was more likely to let it knock me on my arse.
Perhaps I would skip the coffee today and go straight to whiskey.
Davin hadn’t been wrong about the effect of the kilt.
Rowan actually froze when she caught sight of me, a flush rising from the neckline of her violet gown all the way to her cheeks. Her eyes raked over me from the short leather boots up to the tailored black jacket and back down again.
A smirk tugged at my lips. At least there was one aspect of our relationship that would always come easily.
She looked as exquisite as ever. Her dress was simpler today, deep purple silk that was fitted around her ample curves, cinched by a leather belt engraved with the same interlocking symbols as the small satchel that weighted down my kilt – the sporran. The sleeves and neckline were made of sheer lace that hinted at the skin beneath, and the skirts slid along her hips when she glided across the floor. Toward me.
My throat was suddenly dry, and I was grateful for the pocket flask Davin had insisted I carry in my sporran.
Instead of an actual crown, the front of her hair was braided up into a semblance of one, allowing the rest of it to tumble freely down her back in a riotous mass of curls. My feet moved toward her of their own accord, and the rest of me tried to quell the visceral need to grasp those curls in my fist while my lips were on her skin, answering each of her challenges with one of my own in the only language with which we seemed to understand one another.
“Lemmikki,” I greeted her.
“Evander.” She breathed my name in a way that did nothing to dispel the images running rampant through my mind.
Something in her fiery gaze made me suspect I wasn’t the only one who thought the two weeks before our wedding night was entirely too long.
A hand connected lightly with my shoulder, effectively pulling me from my thoughts.
“Is it drafty in here today or is it just me?” Davin looked meaningfully at my kilt, which would leave even less to the imagination if I didn’t get myself under control.
I chuckled under my breath. “A bit. A bit.”
If I hadn’t been grateful for the modicum of modesty that the sporran offered before, I was now.
“I can imagine,” Rowan said, shaking her head.
I was rescued from the urge to call her out on exactly what she was imagining when Gallagher and Gwyn walked over to join us.
“Just be careful on the sparring beam,” Gallagher stage-whispered.
Gwyn laughed, while Davin coughed under his breath that Gallagher was speaking from experience. Rowan’s smirk fell from her features as she looked at someone behind me.
She walked in that direction, and I turned to take in Avani for the first time that morning.
Before I left, Avani hadn’t left her room for months.
Though I had remembered Rowan’s confessions on the balcony, had seen subtle signs in the cautious looks constantly shot Avani’s way, this was the first time I had observed the weight of the heir’s grief for myself.
Shadows haunted her emerald eyes, her expression empty and her gaze fixed on something unseen. Rowan took her arm, pulling her from her reverie.
I followed silently, returning to where the rest of the family stood in the entryway. Once we were lined up before the door, Rowan hung back to stand next to me. Well, to stand a solid foot away from me, but in my general row. Like all happily betrothed couples did.
Jocelyn made her way through the royals, tucking in stray hairs and tapping on undesirable expressions. She tightened Avani’s belt, cupping her cheek gently before she reached Rowan and me.
She made a sound of disapproval under her breath, shaking her head when she took in our positions. “Take his arm, Rowan. Remember, today is about the people’s perception of you two.”
“And about a day for our people to celebrate with us,” Queen Charlotte called in a sing-song voice.
“Yes, yes. And that, of course.” If Jocelyn’s tone hadn’t made it clear that the response was placating, it would have been evident from the way she glared at Rowan and me, mouthing, “For the show.”
Smirking, I held out my arm to escort Rowan. She inched closer on tiny footsteps, looking at the proffered arm like it might start spewing poison at any moment.
I valiantly did not comment on her reluctance to touch me when she had been looking at me like I was the last piece of bacon at breakfast only minutes ago. Finally, she swallowed and squared her shoulders, placing her hand gently on my arm.
Heat seared through the fabric of my coat, fixed at the five singular points of contact. I took a deep breath, focusing on the blinding beam of light that shone through the widening gap in the massive, gilded doors and the increasingly noisy crowd gathered beyond.
In the chaos of the week, it had been easy to forget what this alliance could mean for both of our people, that we were preventing at least one war today.
If we could manage not to start one instead.