Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I t was rare to see Rowan anxious. Even in the Summit tent where her life had been on the line, she had stared the dukes down with sarcasm and threats.
So I was surprised when her fingers tensed around my arm the moment we stepped outside, in time with the crowd’s noticeable lull.
We both waved, as Jocelyn had instructed us all to do, but beyond that, she seemed to have frozen.
“Breathe, Lemmikki,” I instructed her quietly, placing my hand over hers.
She sucked in a breath, pasting on a brilliant smile befitting the role she was playing. And I…at least kept my features neutral while the king addressed his people.
The crowd returned his greeting with enthusiasm, but it was their queen they cheered for. I had wondered more than once about the outlandish tale of an untrained princess leading likewise untrained commoners into battle, but I could see it now.
They respected Logan, but it was clear they loved their Warrior Queen.
For all that I had begun to suspect Rowan wouldn’t actually choose to stay in Lochlann, a tendril of doubt crept in now. Would she truly go from a kingdom where her mother was the people’s darling to one where she was scarcely acknowledged as a Clan Wife and openly scorned as a Lochlannian?
Queen Charlotte said no more than her husband had, a quick comment about how the family looked forward to this every year. How she was grateful to see her family growing, which garnered several suspicious glances toward me.
Then Avani took the stage. Gone was the haunted look of a few moments ago, replaced with a stoic smile.
“There have been dark days for our family, for our kingdom, but today is a day of celebration. I have missed my people, and I have missed these festivals.” Worded like a true Socairan. She might have missed the festivals, but no part of her wanted to be here now. “It’s time to move forward, all of us. I hope we can all enjoy today for ourselves, and for those who are no longer here. Happy Summer Festival.”
Her smile widened into something warmer, and I felt my respect for her rise further, as it seemed to be doing after each interaction I had with or witnessed of the crown princess. In a few short sentences, she had appealed to her people’s humanity and their sense of duty, both commanding and encouraging them to move forward and accept this alliance while reminding them of the love they had for her husband—the king they had almost served.
It was brilliant, a tactic rarely used by the Socairan dukes who ruled on power alone. I had seen firsthand with Rowan’s impromptu snowball fights the way the goodwill of the people could spread just as quickly as their dissension.
When the queen walked to the front once more, I couldn’t help but wonder if she had chosen to announce our engagement because of her people’s affection for her or because the king refused. He had hardly looked in my direction, which was nothing new, but he also seemed to be upset with Rowan.
With every part of our marriage.
Complicated relationships with fathers were nothing new for me, though.
“I know we are all eager to begin the festivities, but first, we wanted to take a moment to introduce you to the newest member of our family, someone who will give our daughter all the love she deserves, and who will grant our kingdom peace. Please welcome Lord Evander Stenvall of Socair, your future Prince of Lochlann.”
A single beat of silence fell, and I took a measured breath, already anticipating the fallout. Rowan clutched my arm tighter while I waved on cue, edging myself just slightly in front of her.
And like a snowstorm, the shouts came crashing down around us.
He stole our princess!
His people are monsters!
She’s a traitor to our kingdom. You all are.
I was used to the people’s hatred. Their fear. Their outright horror. My own people treated me like a specter of death, come to steal their children in the night.
But theirs was a silent dissension. A quiet seething from inside their homes. There was fear, but respect, as well.
Not so for the people of Lochlann.
Still, this was nothing we hadn’t prepared for. I kept my features even, not so much as twitching toward the swords strapped to my back. At least, not outwardly.
That had been my stipulation for the day. I would go without guards, but I would not go without weapons, not when the people’s ire could be turned on Rowan as easily as myself.
Queen Charlotte raised her hands for silence, and most of the crowd obeyed, though several shouts and murmurs continued. Before she could speak, Rowan yanked her arm from mine, rushing forward to stand in front of her family.
She held her hands up much in the way her mother had, but this time, the crowd fell fully silent. Not out of any great love or fear, but curiosity, if their faces were anything to judge by.
“You deserve an explanation,” she called out.
Yells of agreement sounded out.
“It’s true that I was attacked in Socair.”
Another deafening round of shouts, more outraged this time. Rowan nodded, raising her hand for silence again while she backed slowly to my side. She put her arm through mine, and I raised my eyebrows just the slightest bit, wondering if she had thought this through entirely.
She swallowed, keeping her eyes forward, and I surmised she had precisely no plan. But at least they were listening.
“I was attacked by rebels, just like we have here in Lochlann. But, Lord Stenvall—” Her eyes met mine, brimming with more sincerity than I expected, more than she was capable of feigning. “—saved my life. If it weren’t for him, I never would have survived there, and I sure as stars wouldn’t be here with you now.”
Her words rang with conviction, bringing me back to that night at the inn.
I see you. You saved me.
Little by little, she was winning her people over. They looked at me again, this time with more questions than scorn.
“There has been animosity between Lochlann and Socair for so long that I think we have all begun to forget that there are other people on the other side of the Masach Mountains, not faceless, war-hungry monsters,” she said passionately, looking back to them.
Nods of agreement accompanied sheepish faces all around.
“Socair is not the enemy, and my...future husband isn’t either.”
For all her mocking and her sarcasm, that was the first time she had referenced me being her husband in truth. And I was less prepared for hearing that word fall from her lips than I would have expected to be.
At the very least, it was doing nothing for the situation with my…drafty kilt.
“I hope you will welcome him today,” she said, beaming at them now. “And treat him with the same love, kindness, and respect that you have always shown our family.”
Reaching across my future wife for her free hand, I lifted it to my mouth, pressing a slow kiss against her skin.
I could have lied to myself and pretended I was driven by the same impassioned need she felt to prove her people wrong about Socairans, but closer to the truth was an inescapable need to be closer to her, to have my lips on her, to ensure everyone here today knew exactly who she belonged to.
She sucked in a breath, and I tried not to picture all the other ways I could make her gasp.
I failed.
“For the show,” I murmured against her hand, meeting her eyes.
Throughout the last week, there had been fleeting, uncertain moments where I wondered if we were raging against the tides for a prize we could never quite grasp.
But when she looked up at me with a single raised eyebrow, a smirk resting on her lips, and echoed, “For the show,” it was impossible to forget what we were fighting for.
And why defeat had never been an option for me.