Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I n nearly every clan in Socair, it was considered rude to watch someone open a gift you gave them, thus denying them the opportunity to send a polite letter lying about how much they appreciated it.
Lochlannians, however, seemed to have a pervasive compulsion toward awkward and intrusive moments.
It was almost worth having twelve sets of eyes on us for what should have been a private moment to see Rowan’s genuine infatuation with her ring, though. Neither did I have to fake my reaction to the lethal-looking black sabers she gifted me in return.
Even if she did inscribe Lord Aalio on both of them.
Kirill, at least, would be amused. And Taras would be horrified, which would, in turn, amuse Kirill further.
So it wasn’t without benefits.
I pushed thoughts of my men out of my mind as Rowan and I made our way down the hall, a bottle of vodka in tow. Though my time in Lochlann had offered a rare reprieve from my obligations to my clan, I hadn’t been foolish enough to think it would come without a steep price, even before my cousin’s most recent missive. Thinking of my estate only made me more anxious to return to Socair, complete my marriage with Rowan, and get a start on sorting out the reactions of…well, my entire kingdom.
But those thoughts were not for tonight. It was the night before our wedding, and my lemmikki was clearly excited about wherever we were headed.
She stopped us after a short trek to the family wing, pushing open the door without knocking—which was apparently just the Lochlannian way.
The sitting room was smaller than Rowan’s, or perhaps it only felt that way because it was already occupied by her sister and all three cousins. They were seated at a round table carved from dark wood and lined with deep blue velvet.
A vast liquor cabinet lined the entirety of one wall, so I would have suspected the room belonged to Davin even before he was the one who spread his arms in welcome.
Avani’s eyes darted toward the vodka in excitement.
“Is that?” She gasped.
“It is,” Rowan answered before she finished her question.
“Good man.” Avani smiled at me in approval.
They had obviously been expecting us, judging by the two empty seats Davin gestured toward and the general lack of surprise at our entrance.
I poured hefty servings of vodka for everyone besides Gwyn, who nodded her thanks, picking up her mug of tea. While Gallagher dealt the cards, I turned my attention to the remaining three occupants, taking a sip of my drink while I considered them.
I had suspicions about the other two, but I wondered if Davin was as adept at hiding his fae skillset as he was his predilection toward spying. He picked up his cards, explaining the rules of the game and interrupting my line of thought.
It was simple enough, almost identical to the Socairan game of Serdtsas , though he referred to it as Cailleach .
“It means Old Hag ,” Avani explained.
Of course, it did. Did they have a card game aside from War that wasn’t named offensively?
Once play began and we settled into a routine, I decided to ask Davin outright. After all, I only had a few days left to live my life the Lochlannian way.
“So,” I turned to face him, “if Rowan has weather, and Gallagher has healing, what’s your affinity?”
He let out an arrogant scoff, placing a dramatic hand on his heart. “The ladies.”
“Honestly, Dav.” Gwyn’s fist connected with his arm.
“Ow,” he muttered, rubbing the spot. In a more serious tone, he added, “It comes through Aunt Charlie and Uncle Finn, so I don’t have the woo woo powers.”
He gestured toward his ears, and I furrowed my brow, wondering what that had to do with anything.
I looked across the table. Gwyn’s hair was braided back tightly, as it always was, and Gallagher’s was cropped short enough that I could see their identical ears. Both came to subtle points at the tip.
Avani’s half-updo did a better job of concealing hers, but her waves were far more subdued than Rowan’s spiral curls. I could just barely make out the point of a pale ear.
I turned to Rowan, whose mass of hair was spilling over her shoulders and obscuring her own ears, just as it always did. Had I ever seen them? Even when her hair was half up, she had so much left that it easily concealed her ears.
Except for when I brushed it aside for the purposes of dragging my teeth along them, but I wasn’t really focused on their shape by then.
I reached over, tucking several strands behind her ear, then tracing the top with my index finger. Sure enough, it was gently pointed.
Her lips parted, and I shot her a smug grin before turning my attention to Gwyn.
“Yours is clearly speed, or perhaps reflexes?” And strength, but that much was obvious from the way she had hauled Davin over her shoulder like a sack of flour.
She nodded, a self-satisfied grin on her lips. “A combination of the two.”
She didn’t add strength, either, because it was so deeply ingrained in them to keep their skills a secret, or maybe because it was a smaller subset of her main affinity.
“And you…” I took another swig of my vodka as I stared Avani down. She raised her eyebrows in a challenge.
Hers was trickier, but there had been small indications of something other .
“Your horse has reins, but you didn’t use them,” I mused aloud. “And...the birds were silent yesterday. Something with animals?”
“Very good, Lord Evander.” She raised her glass at me.
“Just Evander,” I countered.
As formal as we could be in Socair, even we didn’t refer to our own family by their titles. And family is what we would all be, as of tomorrow.
“Though as of tomorrow, it will be Prince Evander,” Davin reminded everyone with a half-smile.
Rowan’s eyes lit up with mischief. “He actually prefers Van Van.”
“I do not.” I shook my head. Then, though it went against every Socairan part of me to give up a casual name to people I had known less than a week, I expounded. “But I do go by Van sometimes. Just Van.”
Rowan shrugged a single slim shoulder. “If you say so.”
“So, Van .” Avani emphasized the name, indicating that was likely what she would be calling me from that point on, and almost challenging me to see if I would really allow it. “What about Mamá?”
My brow furrowed. Unless there was a pastry fae, I had no concept of what the queen could do.
“That one, I have no idea on,” I admitted.
“Hers is tricky,” Rowan allowed. “She and Uncle Finn took tonics as children, making their traits a little less evident, but she has some affinity toward nature—trees, specifically.”
It made sense in hindsight. The way she had trailed her hand along the wreaths that looked freshly made, despite the time it should have taken to weave them, and the lively plants even in the darker corners of the castle should have been an indication.
“And Uncle Finn is like Gwyn,” Davin explained. “Though he’s a bit more…”
Gwyn turned her head slowly, eyeing him the way a bird of prey eyes a mouse, daring him to finish his sentence.
Apparently, one punch on the arm had been sufficient for Davin’s evening, though, because he clamped his lips firmly shut.
“I will beat him one day,” Gwyn muttered, taking a sip of her tea like it was every bit as potent as the vodka.
Whatever self-preservation Davin had mustered must have fled him in the overwhelming temptation to taunt his cousin. “Sure, you will,” he said in a placating tone, shaking his head no at the same time.
Predictably, she landed another solid punch on his arm, this one echoing with a resounding thud.
“Well,” he grunted. “Now that you’ve amply demonstrated your skill set, perhaps Gallagher would like to remind us all of his.”
The twin in question only laughed. “Not a chance. You walked right into that.”
Davin’s lips parted in offense as he subtly raked in the next hand of cards. “I can hardly claim responsibility for Gwyn’s every violent whim.”
Avani shook her head, laughing under her breath while she surveyed Davin’s neat stack of tricks—one that topped Gwyn’s by a solid three. He may not always be as competitive as his cousins, but he enjoyed getting the upper hand as much as the rest of them if he was willing to risk his arm to distract Gwyn out of her victory.
Unfortunately for him, she caught on shortly after Avani did.
“Does your family play games like this?” Gallagher asked as Davin dodged another assault from Gwyn, begging Avani to switch places with him the next round.
“Not…quite like this,” I answered with a sideways glance.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Rowan countered. “His men like to drink and play cards the same as the rest of us. Even Taras enjoys a good arseprint contest. The Socairans only pretend to be no fun, but if that were true, why would they have so much vodka?”
I chuckled at the memory of her teaching them to play Kings and Arselings…and the subsequent tenuous morning-after she had experienced. Even then, she had been impressive, if a bit lacking in common sense. She had ridden without complaint, pulling her hood around her to shield her eyes and gritting her teeth through her apparent nausea.
“Fair point,” Avani allowed, lifting her glass again before draining it.
I reached across Rowan to refill it, and Davin quickly knocked his back as well, holding out his glass toward me.
“I wouldn’t go right to fun.” A rare shadow crossed his face as he stared at the clear liquid filling up his cup, but his voice was low enough that I wasn’t sure we were actually meant to hear it.
Not for the first time, I was curious about what had transpired for him while Rowan had been with me. Between his concerns about her safety and his several casual remarks, I could surmise it hadn’t been pleasant.
Avani narrowed her eyes, assessing him. Catching her scrutiny, he pasted on a blithe smile that turned more genuine when he did actually beat Gwyn. Her expression was likewise forthright, only it showed something closer to murder.
Gallagher pressed his arm against hers, raising his eyebrows mockingly, and she rolled her eyes.
“Good game, Cousin,” she said in a loud, false voice.
“And you as well, Cousin,” Davin returned graciously.
Rowan giggled at my side, leaning close enough that her curls brushed along the bare skin of my forearm. Amber and citrus wafted toward me, stirring something inside me.
Even if she wanted to wait for our wedding night to take things further, I would happily spend the night drowning in her kisses.
But that was not to be.
Halfway through the game of Dominion, the clock chimed midnight. Avani lurched over, placing her hands in front of my eyes.
Instinct roared at me to eliminate the threat to my line of sight, but her playful, “Oh, no,” brought me to my senses, along with the giggles around the table.
“What...” I began.
“It’s tradition,” Rowan all but yelled, pulling away from me. “We can’t see each other the day of the wedding.”
Images of her hair spilled onto the pillow next to mine vanished into the vodka-scented air.
“What if I don’t like this tradition?” I challenged, stopping just short of physically hauling her back toward me.
Gwyn’s voice sounded out from behind me. “Our parents didn’t obey that rule, and look what happened. War.”
“No one wants a war, Van,” Avani said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world and not a ridiculous superstition keeping my lemmikki from my bed tonight.
My future bride’s giggle eliminated most of my burgeoning disappointment. I could be patient for one more night.
With enough vodka.
“All right, I relent.” I let out a small laugh, surprised when I didn’t have to force it.
Her amusement was infectious, and it was hard to be too disappointed when she was going to be mine tomorrow.
Or today, rather.
“I’ll keep my eyes closed,” I promised, complying.
The light shifted behind my closed eyelids, and the shuffling of feet followed.
“Then we will take Rowan back to Avani’s rooms,” Gwyn announced, her voice closer to the door now.
“And we are going to go collect Van’s cousin and a few of his soldier friends and keep this party going in here,” Davin replied.
“Only the soldiers, Dav. I mean it.” Rowan’s tone left no room for argument.
I raised my eyebrows, wondering who else he would invite that would bother her so much.
“Cross my heart, Cousin,” Davin shot back without a single trace of sincerity.
“Gal!” She shouted.
“I promise, Row,” he said in a markedly more believable voice. “I won’t let him bring any of his lady friends.”
I let out another low laugh. Of course, I should have guessed that was how Lochlannians—and Davin, in particular—might choose to celebrate a man’s last night of being unattached. All his jokes aside, I didn’t think even he was brave enough to risk the bloodbath that would ensue if a woman was found in this room.
I certainly wasn’t, nor did I have any desire to look at anyone who was not my lemmikki.
“All right then.” Her exhale was quiet in the chaotic room, her disappointment nonetheless palpable.
At least I wasn’t alone in that.
“I will...see you tomorrow, Evander,” she said with a small laugh.
Tomorrow. When she vowed her life to mine. I swallowed, a smile tugging at my lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lemmikki.”