Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A sharp knock at the door woke me from a deep sleep.
“Your breakfast, Lord Evander,” someone called from the hallway.
Rowan cursed under her breath before frantically scurrying out of my arms. Her hair was a crimson tangle of curls, her eyes still swollen from sleep as she darted a panicked glance around the room.
Sunlight was streaming in through the window, and the grandfather clock chimed the hour. Eight bells. Nearly three hours later than I normally slept. I wondered the last time I had slept this soundly.
“I have to go before Da’ finds out I’m here and murders you,” Rowan whispered, edging closer to the edge of the bed.
She refused to look me in the eye. Her cheeks and neck were flushed. From sleep? From embarrassment? Something else?
I swallowed, remembering every detail from last night with stark clarity. Each kiss, each caress of her fingers against my skin. The small sounds of pleasure she made as I tasted her neck.
“Besides,” she said a moment later, “you have your stag hunt this morning, so my cousins are sure to come barreling in at any moment.”
I was sure she was right, though I wasn’t quite ready to let her go yet. But as I parted my lips to ask her—I wasn’t sure what—she sneaked through the passage door, closing it behind her with a gentle click.
My brow furrowed, but another knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Instead of the maid’s voice, though, this time it was the overly cheerful tones of Davin and Gallagher that sounded behind the frame.
“We’ll take that, thank you very much.” Davin sounded far too awake for the hour.
“Has he come back from sparring yet?” Gallagher asked in a more subdued tone, though neither waited for an answer before barging into my room.
Davin narrowed his eyes, glancing between the red imprint of Rowan’s face on my chest and the rumpled bed behind me.
Der’mo.
Before either of them could make a comment, I threw on my shirt and shifted the focus to Davin instead.
“You’re awfully chipper for someone who had to be carried home by Lady Gwyn last night.”
A shadow passed over his features, but it was Gallagher who answered.
“I brought him a tonic,” he said evenly. “After all, a day of bonding with your father-in-law is bound to be its own sort of fun. I didn’t think you’d want a whiny, hungover Dav to add to it.”
Davin stared at him, mouth half-full of the cinnamon bun he pilfered from my breakfast tray.
“I am a delight, I’ll have you know. Sober, hungover, or three sheets to the wind. Just ask my mother.”
I rolled my eyes as they continued their back and forth while I dressed for the hunt.
When I was finished, I added a bow and quiver of arrows to my back in lieu of my sabers. It felt wrong to leave them behind, but there wasn’t room for both. Instead, I sheathed my new dirk at my side. It would at least offer a modicum of protection, and a stag hunt would be a good way to practice using it before an actual battle. Gallagher seemed to agree with me.
He and Davin both claimed that it was a good weapon for hunting, and a prime way to ingratiate myself with the king—something I hadn’t been too preoccupied with until they mentioned it as a possibility.
As soon as they deemed me ready, we set out for the stables, meeting up with the rest of the family there. The horses were already saddled and ready and the king’s irritable expression had me wondering how long that had been the case.
“Look, Uncle,” Davin said jovially as he climbed atop his horse. “Evander could practically pass as Lochlannian now that he has a proper dirk.”
Despite himself, King Logan glanced at me curiously before looking away again. Oliver and Finn exchanged a look before the latter pointedly cleared his throat.
The king sighed, directing his attention toward me again.
“Aye? Is that so?” He seemed to be forcing the words out in a way that was almost amusing.
Once I was in the saddle, I unsheathed the weapon, silently handing it over. His eyes widened as he examined the black leather handle and the serrated edge. Even if he wanted to, I didn’t think he could have hidden his admiration for the dirk, and—to his never-ending disappointment—me, for owning it.
I debated mentioning that it was his daughter who had chosen it for me, but decided not to pour salt into the open wound that was our relationship.
“It’s a bonnie weapon, lad,” he said, reluctantly handing it back.
“That’s what we told him,” Davin said evenly.
“Just this very morning,” Gallagher chimed in.
I dipped my chin in thanks to the king, choosing to ignore the preening ridiculousness from the two more absurd members of my lemmikki’s family.
The king made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, before steering his horse toward the road with a grumbling order for us to follow.
We rode north for nearly an hour before dismounting at a copse of trees nestled into vast rolling hills of purples and greens and browns. Moorlands, they were called, and they were teeming with life.
In Socair, it didn’t matter that the land was mostly unoccupied, not when so much of it was uninhabitable. But of course, Lochlann didn’t have that issue. Everything in this kingdom was primed for life—or at least, it seemed to be.
A herd of cows with long horns grazed on the hills, their eyes completely covered by long, shaggy hair. Tall rabbits and russet-colored squirrels darted through the heather and mossy grasses. Birds flew overhead, singing a chorus that filled the hills with a cacophony of music. I wondered if it was ever quiet here or if chaos was just infused into every living thing on this side of the mountains.
In Socair, it wasn’t just that food stores were low. It was harder to hunt since not many things could survive at such a high elevation, at least by comparison to Lochlann.
Something I wasn’t sure any person in our hunting party understood.
As we crept forward through the heather, conversation came to a halt. Movement in the distance caught my eye. I looked up in time to see a large red deer with four great horns turn its head in our direction, but before it could even register our presence, an arrow sailed through the air, landing in its neck.
As soon as it hit the ground, Finn turned toward us with a smarmy grin.
“Well, that’s the hunt then,” Davin said drily. “There’s no point in carrying on now that Gloating-MacGloaterson got the first kill.”
“I always get the first kill,” Finn quickly fired back.
Oliver ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair as he shrugged. “Sounds an awful lot like gloating to me.”
Gallagher chuckled, and his father put on a show of mock offense.
“Haud yer wheesht, and go fetch the buck already,” King Logan grumbled. “You might have gotten the first kill, but we’ll see who goes back with the largest one.”
Finn muttered something under his breath about size never having been an issue for him. Davin and Oliver laughed outright while Gallagher’s expression twisted in disgust.
Even the king couldn’t help but smirk at that, though his smile fell a bit flatter as he met my gaze. He quickly looked away, and it was an effort not to roll my eyes. I thought we’d made some progress during our game of Dominion, but I was still the man who was marrying his daughter, who had the potential to take her away from him.
I was still a threat to this family he had worked so hard to build. And I wasn’t sure that any amount of board games or hunting parties or shared weapons preferences would change that.
An itch formed between my shoulder blades.
It wasn’t that I cared if I had his approval—or should care—though it would certainly make things easier for Rowan if I did. But that was something the king wasn’t likely to be forced into any time soon.
Eventually, we found ourselves within the forest, following the signs of our next kill until they intersected with a trail. There they became obscured in the muddy soil and a litany of overlapping tracks until they were no longer clear.
“A herd,” Oliver said quietly.
The king nodded, bending low to the ground to run his hands over one of the hoofprints. His features grew thoughtful as he examined the trail. Then he made a few silent hand signals that were easy enough to interpret; he and Oliver would continue on through the middle of the forest, while Finn and Gallagher would try to cut the herd off from the left, and Davin and I from the right.
We crept quietly through the trees, or at least, I did. Once we were out of earshot Davin made no more pretenses of being interested in the hunt.
“So,” he began, drawing out the vowel.
When I glanced back at him, he was holding a small roll of parchment with a familiar black seal between two of his fingers. The wax was lifted from the page making it clear that he had already opened it and had undoubtedly read the contents of the letter.
I sighed, stuffing down my annoyance at the invasion of privacy. There was no point in it when I’d had the sneaking suspicion that someone was likely reading my messages.
Though, why he would be so open about having read this one, was beyond me.
“I considered replacing this on your breakfast tray this morning, but I wanted a moment to discuss this with you in person.”
That answered that question.
I reached out a hand for the letter, but he held it back, raising a single black eyebrow.
“You said you would keep her safe this time,” he reminded me, only a vague hint of his playful nature on his face.
“And I will,” I said in no uncertain terms, though my mouth went drier as I considered what might be in the letter to make him question that. I stretched my hand out farther, more impatiently this time, and he finally relinquished it.
Unfurling it, I quickly scanned its contents. Taras's familiar shorthand lined the page. He sent the reply from the Lord of Finance—which wouldn’t have been an issue for Davin, so I kept scanning until I got the final part of the letter.
Word of your happy news has made its way from the south. Your father was distressed that he did not get to share the announcement himself, as the dukes have been sending in their many felicitations. Wolf—Nils in particular—is very interested in your return so that he may congratulate you himself.
A muscle feathered in my jaw. Nils was more likely to approve my alliance with a deranged ferret than with Rowan. I had known word would spread quickly, but I had hoped I would make it home before all hell broke loose. It would certainly be much harder to put out fires from this side of the mountains.
It would seem that your impending nuptials are the most anticipated event among the clans. I am certain that our soldiers stationed away from the palace will be eager to join us for the celebration. I can send their invitations as soon as we have a date.
-Taras
My shoulders tensed. He wanted to call in more of our men for the wedding. I knew there would be fallout, but the suggestion that we would need more soldiers at our gates because of the mood of the other clans was unsettling, to say the least.
The paper crumpled slightly in my grip. I knew we would have to be careful when Rowan and I returned to Socair for the wedding, but once again I was reminded of how much better—how much safer—it would be for her in her home country.
How much safer it would be for the people of Socair when I didn’t raze every clan to the ground that even considered bringing her harm.
When I finally looked back up at Davin, every ounce of the careless facade he so often donned was gone. Instead, concern and something closer to anger filled his expression.
“I need to know that you will keep your word,” he said in a lethal tone. “That you won’t send her back with scars this time.”
His question sliced through the silence. I narrowed my eyes, guilt warring with my temper at the implication that I would do anything else before I registered the quiet once more.
Not once since we arrived in the highlands had there been complete silence. But now, there were no birds, no rustling of leaves, no chittering of small, chaotic creatures.
Davin stiffened, sensing exactly what I had.
Our weapons were in hand before the first soldier appeared. They wore the same blue-and-silver tartans that the rebels had worn when they attacked us at the lake.
Davin stepped closer to me, our backs together as we made a slow circle to assess the threat more fully. There were at least fifteen men surrounding us, probably more if I accounted for those who were hiding more effectively in the trees.
I mentally tallied how much ground we had covered during the hunt—how much distance was between us and the other royals now. Were they close enough to call to? Had they been compromised already?
The rebels didn’t look fatigued, and their swords weren’t bloodied, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more of them somewhere else in the trees. For that matter, I had no intention of giving away her family’s positions if they were still safe.
“Well, Cousin,” Davin said casually, “I had hoped to treat you to a day out in the kingdom where my people weren’t actively trying to kill you…”
“That would just be boring,” I muttered. “I might accuse you of a lot of things, but boring would never be one of them.”
Davin’s chuckle cut off as the first wave of men charged toward us.
Der’mo.
I would never leave my sabers behind again.
Though my new dirk was proving extremely deadly, it didn’t have the reach of my swords, and so it relied on closer combat to be useful. Although, the rebels didn’t seem to mind obliging me that, at least.
When one of them was close enough, I parried his sword away before dragging the serrated edge of my blade down across his neck.
Blood burst from the artery, the spray distracting the rebel behind him enough for me to grab an arrow from my quiver to slam into his temple. There was no time to wrest his sword from his spasming grip when another man was already attacking in his stead.
Davin was similarly having his own fun, alternating between his dirk and dagger to fend off blows. At least behind his nonchalant facade, he was every bit as fierce as the rest of the royal family on the battlefield.
Between us, we had already taken down six men in just as many minutes.
Slowly, we had edged ourselves closer to one of the larger trees, the trunk wider than the average carriage. It at least offered some protection for our backs, forcing the rebels to face us head on.
When the next wave charged at us, we took blow after blow, dealing our own in return. It was pure chaos. Blood rushed to my ears, the beat somehow amplifying the battle cries of the rebels and the clashing of steel.
And in that chaos, they were trying to separate us, slowly edging into the space between Davin and me.
I cursed under my breath, dragging my blade across the throat of one of the rebels attacking Davin, before turning back to meet another oncoming assault.
“I had him,” Davin called. “Don’t be greedy.”
A low laugh hissed past my lips. Despite his teasing tone, he was already flagging and we weren’t anywhere close to being done. His tonic must have been wearing off a bit.
“He was in my way,” I lied. It wasn’t in my nature to banter during battle, but it seemed to bolster Davin a little.
“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” he grunted, sliding his dagger out from the throat of one man before bringing it down across the groin of another.
The serrated edge of my dirk caught onto my enemy’s sword just long enough for me to twist it away and ram another arrow up through the man’s chin with so much force it broke the shaft down by the crest.
He sputtered, his eyes going dark as I shoved him into the soldier behind him.
Three men charged toward me this time in a flurry of furious movements and chaotic speed. I dipped low, slicing my dirk through one of their calves while scooping up a sword from the nearest corpse. I’d barely rolled away as a massive broadsword came down overhead, landing with a thunk in the mud right where I’d been.
As I stood, however, another streak of silver came down like lightning. I twisted away, but not quite soon enough. Fire raced from my collarbone down my chest, burning right where there was a slice in my tunic.
Der’mo . There wasn’t time to see how deep the wound was, not when we still had so many rebels left.
Swapping weapons, I held the lighter blade with my injured side, still warding off the blows raining down on me. My shirt was growing wetter by the minute, each block, each strike tearing open the gash a little more.
A bead of sweat formed at my temple. I made another quick assessment of the soldiers left to fight when a battle cry sounded from our left.
The man in front of me had the sense to look panicked, and I took advantage of the surprise to shove my dirk through the middle of his belly, twisting before ripping it away again.
“And just when I was hoping we could claim this victory for ourselves,” Davin said, the relief coursing off him belying his words.
He rammed his sword into the spleen of one of his attackers, before kicking him away. “But my family has never been one to resist a good fight.”
He’d barely finished his last word when Finn came charging in, cleaving a group of six men in two. His movements were like water; smooth, unrestrained and powerful as he crashed into the rebels like a wave of vengeance.
Gallagher and Oliver joined him, easily taking on several at a time.
And then there was the king.
Before I could even raise my sword again, he let out another roar and barreled into the remaining wall of men surrounding us like a battering ram.
My people had been right to be afraid of him. His reputation was well-earned, and each of his blows struck fear into the hearts of the rebels.
It was over within minutes.
While Davin and Oliver stepped aside to begin searching the bodies, I ripped the sleeve of my tunic to use it as a makeshift bandage.
“That’s a lot o’ blood, lad.” King Logan’s concerned tone caught Gallagher’s attention.
He raced over, digging into the satchel at his waist for fresh bandages and tinctures. “I can help,” he said, trying to examine the injury.
Finn interrupted before I could tell him that wouldn’t be necessary.
“I think that will need to wait until we’re back at the castle,” he said sternly.
He focused on the hills in the distance, his brows furrowing in concern. From this vantage point, I couldn’t see whatever it was that had him worried, but in my experience, parties like this one rarely traveled alone.
The king nodded.
“Aye, let’s go,” he said, before studying me again. “You’re good to ride?”
I dipped my chin once. I’d fought with worse injuries than this. An hour’s ride wouldn’t kill me now. Still, I took the roll of fresh bandages from Gallagher, staunching the blood flow before wrapping my chest and neck as we made our way back to our horses.
The entire ride back to the castle, I wondered which was worse…the dissension in Lochlann surrounding our union, or knowing how much worse it would be back in Socair.