Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
T he day of our wedding was already not going well, in large part due to my father.
He seemed to be especially lucid today, which at least boded well for Ava’s frequent attempts to sway him away from allowing this alliance. But it also meant that he was in the mood to issue edicts.
So instead of focusing on preparing for my wedding, I was headed to deal with that. I supposed it provided a nice distraction from obsessing over whether Rowan would arrive safe and on time.
I had barely walked into his sitting rooms when my stepmother intercepted me.
“Mairi,” I said the name mockingly now that we both knew it wasn’t true.
“Stepson.” Her insistence on calling me that was just another way for her to assert control, to try to remind me of the power she once held over me. “Your father isn’t up to visitors just now,” she said.
I moved to step around her. “I’m certain he’s always up to seeing his son.”
Sick bastard that he was, he did hold me in some affectionate regard, or at least his legacy.
“I hear there was an Unclanned attack on one of the caravans today,” she remarked casually, a familiar cruel glint in her eye.
My blood froze in my veins, and I forcibly reminded myself that Rowan was with skilled men who would die to keep her safe. That she was a fighter in her own right. That Ava had always been a liar, and I refused to give her the reaction she wanted.
“I would be worried if I didn’t know how terrified you were of your beloved family coming after you,” I said evenly.
She scoffed, but there was fear behind her eyes. “You can’t think that threat is effective, when they all know where I am.”
“They’ve always known where you are,” I informed her with a shrug. “What they were lacking was information that only someone in Bear could give them.”
A cold smile stretched across my face, and she took a step backward. Then she lifted her chin.
“Information can be so dangerous in the wrong hands,” she said softly. “For instance, I wonder what your father would say if he knew you had forged his signature on the marriage contract.”
My father’s pride and refusal to admit his memory failed him made it a reasonable gamble to sign off on things on his behalf, but I used that sparingly, since generally it was easier to actually get him to sign.
I wasn’t sure what he would do if he figured that out. But I had learned a long time ago when to show weakness in front of this woman, and now was not that time.
I let out a dark laugh. “By all means, pit your word against mine. After all, I’m only his son, his legacy, the next in line to his clan, while you’re the woman he was forced to marry after the wife he chose, the wife he loved , died.”
Fury flashed across her face, because she knew every word of it was true. Hell, it was why she hated me so much to begin with.
Her hand clenched at her side, and I wondered how much restraint it was taking for her not to slap me, though she had never dared to do anything quite so obvious.
Instead, her features twisted. “I may not be the wife he chose, but would he really choose you if he knew what a coward you were? Remember how you used to beg me not to punish you, even when you knew you deserved it?”
Had she ever possessed an actual soul? If Princess Isla’s reaction when she met me was anything to go by, the answer was no.
Times like this, I kept my composure by picturing the way her empty eyes would widen in surprise if I calmly severed her head from her body.
But sadly, it was not to be.
I forced a nonchalant sigh. “It still wouldn’t be enough to make him love you more. Or...at all, for that matter. In any event, I doubt you want to find yourself explaining to him how he managed to sign off on the leader of his enemy clan becoming king.”
“Like I had any control over that,” she spat. “As you know, women are not allowed in the Summit tent. We’re lucky he was feeling as lucid as he did then. At least they only believe he is as mad as he ever was.”
Hearing that woman refer to us in any sense of the word was galling, but she was right. We were lucky it hadn’t been worse.
Iiro convincing the lords there would be a war and taking advantage of my father’s never-ending bloodthirstiness toward Lochlann was, in reality, far from the worst thing that could have happened.
Ignoring her this time, I continued into my father’s study, shutting the door behind me before she could follow.
He was sitting at his desk, paperwork neatly piled in front of him. For a moment, he looked like he had when I was a child, back before I knew what a monster he was.
I sucked in a breath, and he looked up at last.
“Evander.” He said my name fondly, if not precisely warmly. “Did you take care of the issue with the soldiers?”
I mentally reviewed the first edict he had sent out this morning. It was harmless enough, just a stricter version of the laws on storing the clan flags.
“I did.” Now, I had to distract him before he remembered the half portions order he had sent along with it. The men’s rations were tight enough. They would starve on half.
“Sir Heikkenin arrived this morning from Eagle,” I told him.
As expected, my father let out an irritable breath. “I suppose I’ll need to take a break to greet him.”
Thank the storms for that.
“Speaking of arrivals today, where is your bride?” The silver glinted in his gray eyes, the only physical sign of how he felt about me marrying into Lochlann.
“We thought it prudent she arrive at the last minute. You know how the dukes can be,” I explained.
He nodded. “I’m proud you thought of it. You’re your father’s son.”
He smiled like he had complimented me rather than compared me to a man who had ordered countless innocents to be slaughtered in his lifetime, and I forced myself to give a semblance of it back.
“It was a good plan,” he went on. “Marrying the girl so it will be easier to attack her family from the inside.”
He repeated back the only rationale I had been able to give him when he looked dubious over his signature on this alliance.
“Thank you, sir,” I nodded, keeping my features carefully neutral, rather than let him see that hell itself would freeze over before I allowed my wife’s family to be harmed.
I hoped my mother at least had not been a sociopath, or there was really no hope for me.
“Very good.” He walked around his desk to clap me on the shoulder. “Take the rest of the day off, Son. It is your wedding, after all.”
I put a hand on his shoulder in return. “Perhaps we both could, devote our time to making a strong showing. Besides, we should be celebrating.”
My father nodded thoughtfully, and I tried not to show how badly I needed him to agree. To forget about the things he was trying to enact this morning.
“True. My son will be the one to finally put Lochlann in its place.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
Well, it had been too much to ask that he might celebrate my actual marriage, but at least he wouldn’t be killing anyone today.