Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
W e lost ourselves in another few days of wedding planning and court dinners. Avani said less and less at each meal, and she wasn’t the only one.
Davin, too, was uncharacteristically quiet, and Gwyn managed to be even more relentless in the sparring ring. Gallagher was always quiet, but it felt more intentional now.
Grief hung heavily in the air with the approaching memorial. It had been one thing, hearing Rowan reference the atmosphere she had so desperately wanted to escape from. It was another, experiencing firsthand the dramatic shift from the boisterous chaos of the past week to the oppressive blanket of silence that settled over the castle walls.
I dressed in the deep green shirt Jocelyn had ordered last week, per the instructions on my schedule. It was an ominous shade, the exact color of the dress Rowan had been wearing when I found her tied to a flogging post, clinging to consciousness by the sheer force of her stubborn will.
The color of Ava’s eyes, though I supposed that meant it was the color of Avani’s as well. Was that why it had been Mac’s favorite?
I hadn’t known the man—I barely knew Avani, for that matter—but disquiet settled in my gut all the same as I fastened the silver buttons of the tunic. The breakfast room was so silent that I wondered at first if I was early, but I turned the corner to find the table half filled with the family, including Mac’s father.
No one spoke. The only sound in the room was the subtle scraping of food being loaded onto plates in much smaller portions than usual.
Rowan had rarely struggled to eat when I knew her, but something in that had evidently changed in the past several months. Was it this, the feeling that surrounded her on days like today?
Taking the plate from her still-empty seat, I chose a few of her favorite foods. Fortunately, she was a reactive eater, so it was easy to discern which things she enjoyed by the way she would hum as she ate them.
Bacon, cinnamon bread, and melon were obvious, but I left the silver dishes housing boiled eggs where they were, since she only ever seemed to force those down.
She walked in as I was finishing her plate, face pale and eyes already rimmed with red. Her gaze lingered on my tunic for several heartbeats, her expression indiscernible. Then she took in the room, pausing when she got to Avani’s empty chair.
Charlotte followed her gaze, getting to her feet with purpose until the king placed a hand on her arm.
“I’ll go, mo leannan .” He spoke each word as though it was an effort to force them out.
Charlotte nodded, settling back into her seat just as Rowan took her place next to me.
Her lips parted when I handed over her plate.
“Thank you,” she said earnestly, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
I nodded, unwilling to break into the hush around us, even if I had known what to say. There must have been grief over my mother, but whether anyone would have been willing to show it was another story.
Taras and Yuriy had certainly mourned the loss of their own mother, as had I, but Taras and I had buried that grief under a mountain of exertion, and Yuriy had returned to their estate with his father.
I was singularly ill-equipped for the open display of emotion taking place at every seat at this table. Not for the first time, I felt the intrusion of my presence on a day that affected them all so deeply.
Seeing the gratitude on Rowan’s features at the relatively underwhelming task of scooping food onto a plate, though, I couldn’t honestly wish I was anywhere else.
It was Davin who finally shattered the silence, clearing his throat and putting on a semblance of his usual smirk.
“You know,” he said lightly. “If Mac were here...he would ask why we hadn’t set the good whiskey out with breakfast.”
Quiet chuckles sounded around the table, even as MacKinnon wiped a tear from his eye.
Rowan took a breath, eyeing Ellie as she spoke.
“If Mac were here, he’d be doing his best imitation of Da’ being a baby hog.” She deepened her voice, affecting an impressively accurate imitation of her father. “‘Ach. That’s no’ how ye soothe a bairn, ye wee eejit.”
“That’s the truth,” Isla commented quietly. “Though, he was no better. It’s a good thing there were two of the twins, or I’d have never gotten to hold them when he was around.” She gestured at Blair and Bronwyn, who both let out sad laughs.
Avani walked in, and the silence fell once more, grim lines replacing the hints of smiles that had appeared only moments ago. She looked around with eyes that held all the life of a corpse, surveying each member of the table before she shook her head softly.
Her mouth tilted up in what could almost have been considered a smile, were it not for the rest of her features.
“If Mac were here,” she began in a low, raspy tone, “he’d be making Da’ clear his throat uncomfortably while he planted a big ol’ inappropriate kiss right on my mouth for the whole room to see.”
“Aye, he would at tha’,” the king said thickly. “He was a wee rascal, that one.”
“I wouldn’t go right to wee,” MacKinnon spoke for the first time, not bothering to hide the hitch in his voice. “The boy was taller than me before he reached twelve.”
“That’s when he started insisting on being called Mac,” Charlotte interjected, her eyes likewise swimming with tears. “He was so proud of the last name you gave him.”
Rowan squeezed her eyes shut, and I pressed my leg against hers. She shifted closer to me, leaning in like I was the only source of warmth in a blizzard. I poured her coffee, stirring in far too much cream and pushing it over to her.
Maybe she would only be my wife for a handful of days every year, but it didn’t make her any less mine to protect, both her body and her soul.