Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
R owan didn’t bother reaching for a dressing gown when she left our bed, something I realized I could quickly get used to. Sadly, her mass of hair tumbled down to obscure my view somewhat, but most of my favorite parts of her were still on display.
She paused when her feet touched the ground, running her hands along the airy canopy.
I had been hoping she would never have cause to want to hide behind this one, but perhaps I was also just unwilling to revisit the endless days of silence emanating from an opaque velvet shroud.
Her lips tilted up in a smile, signaling her approval again. She continued in her perusal, peeking into my office before coming to a pause in her vast closet. I followed her, taking in the room as she did.
Her assessing gaze tripped over a rectangular wooden box, trepidation shadowing her pale-green eyes.
Though it was relatively simple, the box had been crafted with artistry and sealed shut with an ornate metal clasp carved with familiar intricate whorls. Familiar, because they were the same ones that adorned the ring box I had given her…the one made by the strangely enigmatic weapons master at Chridhe.
“What is that?” I kept my tone even, trying not to betray the concern that churned in my gut at the reaction the box seemed to cause in her.
“Something Rayan gave me,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “Something he said not to open until I knew I needed it.”
I didn’t need to ask her if he had the same fae blood as her family. There had been something distinctly other about him, and I strongly doubted that she would have blindly trusted the advice otherwise.
But what did he think she would need that he couldn’t tell her about in advance?
Rowan had spent the past hour unknowingly chasing away the icy, ominous feeling that had settled along my spine when she was gone, but something about this box threatened to bring the feeling right back.
“How will you know if you need it if you don’t know what it is?” My voice was quieter than I meant it to be.
“That...that is the question.”
A beat of silence passed before she cleared her throat, visibly forcing a lighter expression.
“You never did tell me where those dresses came from.” She gestured to the gowns she had left behind, the ones Taisiya had hung just before she arrived.
I followed her gaze to the black traveling gown she had worn when we departed for the cabin, just before the world turned on its head.
“I would think that’s obvious.” Unless she thought she had a mysterious clothing benefactor.
She leveled an exasperated look at me. “I meant that they don’t look like any other Socairan dresses I’ve seen.”
No, because Socairan dresses were made for ladies who neither rode astride nor used a sword.
I shrugged, moving closer to my feral wife. “Well, those seemed highly impractical, as you aren’t like any Socairan women I’ve seen.”
“So you designed them?” she pressed. “I never knew you took such an interest in women’s fashion.”
I let out a snort. “I can assure you, I do not. I merely explained to the estate seamstress the kinds of things you would be doing, that you would need the use of your hands and the ability to ride a horse and dress yourself. After she recovered from fainting over the impropriety of it, she designed them.”
“And do you?” She shifted to face me more fully.
I raised my eyebrows, silently asking her to expound.
She met my eyes solidly, taking a steadying breath that told me the answer to whatever she was going to ask was more important than her casual tone implied. “Faint from the impropriety of it?”
“I’m really not the fainting kind,” I assured her with a dry chuckle.
She blinked, disappointment pinching her eyes, and I took a breath to consider her question more deeply.
Did I faint from the impropriety of women riding into battle? From her impropriety in general?
Or was she asking if I regretted marrying someone so opposite to all that I had known in my kingdom?
Didn’t she realize that if I had wanted a demure, silent bride, I wouldn’t have waited for her particular kind of chaos to enter my life?
Talking had never been our strong suit, so I chose my words carefully, giving her the honesty she needed.
“I won’t pretend that your outspoken nature doesn’t present some concerns in the context of Socairan politics,” I told her plainly, since I suspected she was at least in part referring to the choices she had made tonight. “Things are...freer in Lochlann. There, you give your opinion and someone else gives theirs, and you both move on. Here, everything we do and don’t say is scrutinized and hoarded away to be used as a weapon.”
My tone was gentle, as close as I could come to explaining why I wouldn’t always blindly agree with every reckless storms-damned thing she did.
“Oh.” The sound was too small for the woman who made it.
She averted her gaze, suddenly finding the sleeve of the pale-blue dress hanging beside her fascinating.
I grasped her chin in my hand, guiding her face back toward mine until she met my eyes again, long enough for her to see the truth in them.
“But if you’re asking whether I would have preferred a quiet wife who rode sidesaddle and didn’t have an incredibly inappropriate dagger stashed on her person at all times, the answer is a resounding no.” I pressed a kiss against her perfect, waiting mouth, searing the words into her soul.
No, I never would have chosen anyone else.
No, I don’t regret it.
I never could, Lemmikki.
She leaned into me, as she had so many times now, and I slid my tongue along the seam of her lips, willing her to understand how irrevocable my need for her was. She traced a path up my chest with her warm hands, sparks following in their wake.
When she locked her arms around my neck, I took advantage of the leverage to lift her by her muscular thighs, wrapping her legs around me. She gasped against my mouth, and I deepened the kiss, pulling her tighter against me while I walked us back toward the bed.
She returned every ounce of my desire in kind, arching against me while I followed her onto the plush mattress. Slowly, I moved my lips down her neck, sliding them down her torso. When I got to the subtle muscles just below her navel, she shifted impatiently, tugging on my shoulders to bring me back to her.
I chuckled against her skin, nipping at her hipbone instead.
“Evander,” she said breathlessly.
Of all the ways I enjoyed my name on her lips, that particular tone, the delicate balance between a demand and a plea, was by far my favorite.
I moved my ministrations lower, cutting off her protest when I pressed a kiss along the inside of her thigh.
“Yes, Lemmikki?” I murmured against her in a deceptively casual tone. “Was there something you needed?”
“For you to not be an arrogant— aalio ,” she bit back, though the insult fell flat when she had to pause on a gasp.
Smirking, I worked my way back up her body to finally cede to her demands. As much as I had missed every other thing about her, I hadn’t realized how badly I had needed this, too, the small moments of playfulness and laughter she brought with her.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” I told her, pressing another kiss against her mouth.
She laughed softly, a whisper of air dancing along my lips, and for the first time since Yuriy interrupted our wedding morning, I almost felt I could breathe again.
The slow morning we should have gotten to enjoy after our wedding night was interrupted for the second time, only this time, the only one likely to start a war was my lemmikki.
Not that I could blame her. I half wanted to murder the healer myself when he spent longer than was necessary confirming the state of my wife’s maidenhood. When he was finally gone, she irritably shoveled in several biscuits with cheeks that were crimson with a mix of fury and discomfort.
Unlike my very Lochlannian wife, I had been raised to choose my battles carefully, so I left her to her ire while I cleaned up for the day. Taisiya came to dress her as well, and we headed out to endure a second round of unpleasantries.
At least if we were seeing off Iiro, it was because he was leaving. Introducing Rowan to her role as a Clan Wife would be precarious enough without him here scrutinizing both her and my father.
As it was, I had spent the better part of the past week trying to keep my father away from our visitors with a slew of excuses I was solidly running out of. There was no sign of him this morning, something I steadfastly refused to comment on.
Taras and Mila were here already, the latter talking with Luca and her father in hushed tones. It wasn’t hard to guess what their conversation might pertain to, given his comments last night. I nodded at them, and Arès nodded back, though his eyes were still wary.
He crossed over to us, saying goodbye to us both before he stepped into his carriage.
Wolf was the only other clan who remained. When Nils climbed into his carriage without a word, I wondered if he had stayed for the sole purpose of making that dramatic exit.
I bit back a sigh of frustration, giving Taras a pointed glance toward Rowan. He nodded, crossing the courtyard to her while Mila hugged her brother goodbye. Reluctantly, I strode after the Duke of clan Wolf.
His carriage door was still open, so I pitched my voice low.
“I apologize if we kept you too long.” It was the closest I could come to inquiring after his abrupt departure.
“Not at all. I simply had nothing to say to the princess of our enemies.”
“The future Clan Wife of Bear, you mean,” I corrected in an even tone.
Because while she was a Clan Wife, she wasn’t the Clan Wife, which would afford her even more protection and power—or as much power as was given to a woman in Socair.
He scowled, the expression pulling at the deep lines on a face that looked older than its years. “When your father married the Lochlannian wench, we had not yet gone to war. Their king had not yet claimed the lives of his brother and my son .” His eyes burned with fury. “Tell me, did you enjoy your time with the man who dishonored your own people—your own family—with a death, not on the battlefield, but crushed under the weight of a mountain?”
“Of course not,” I lied. “But I will enjoy feeding both my people and yours with the alliance I formed. Our children and our soldiers alike will benefit.”
“And is that why you went?” he spat. “For the sake of my armies?”
“My father sent me,” I emphasized, reminding him that I did nothing without the duke’s consent—at least, not as far as he was concerned. That should do something to counter the accusations he implied about why I wanted to marry Rowan.
True as they were.
“He sent me for the sake of Bear, and everyone we are allied with. That has always included you,” I finished quietly.
He held my gaze for a long, stilted moment before nodding jerkily.
“I suppose we will see in the trade meeting.”
I let out a subtle breath of relief. He felt slighted, but he wasn’t unwilling to bend as long as he felt that his clan was shown favor with the limited supply of food stores. That was a game of its own, but certainly better than the alternative.
“As you say,” I agreed.
He gestured for his guard to close his door, and I turned in time to see Iiro approaching my wife with his usual smarmy bastard expression.
She was putting on an admirable display of politeness toward the aalio when I reached her, placing my hand against the small of her back to let her know I had returned.
“Apologies, My Lady,” I said, ignoring Iiro long enough to address my wife. I turned to him after, making sure he was firmly aware of where he ranked in my priorities, a snub he couldn’t reasonably take offense to. “Your Majesties, thank you for honoring us with your attendance.
“But, please, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” By all means, continue with whatever thinly veiled threat you were about to deliver to my wife while I remind you that your authority is not limitless here.
His mouth twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a grimace or a smirk. “I’m looking forward to seeing you both at the Obsidian Palace soon.”
I resisted the urge to laugh outright. My arse would I drag Rowan into any territory under his control.
“Of course,” I said smoothly. “We’ll send word once we look at our schedules.”
I watched him closely for signs of frustration, but he let out an obsequious laugh instead. Icicles of apprehension scraped along my spine, in spite of myself.
“I’ve already discussed it with your father, and he’s assured me that five weeks will be sufficient time. Reestablishing the Obsidian Throne will benefit us all, but in order to rebuild, we first need to discuss taxes.” There was something off in his tone, something more than the satisfaction that bled from his every self-important pore.
Had he discussed the visit with my father?
Or had he somehow worked out that if he planted that seed, we would all be forced to adhere to the pretense around it?
Though his comment about the taxes—coupled with his pointed glance toward the food wagons still being sorted through—was infuriating, it didn’t cause the same sinking in my gut that his implication did.
When I said nothing, his smile widened.
“Of course, Sir Aleksander is welcome to come by himself. I could use his support on a few?—”
“We’ll be there,” I cut him off, cursing myself for falling into his trap.
But he knew .
Somehow, he knew that my father wasn’t fit to go alone.
Der’mo .
He finally turned to go, taking his brother and his wife with him. Rowan’s brow was furrowed in concern as she studied the supply wagons.
I didn’t bother telling her what I already knew in my soul. Whatever Iiro was planning, the food would be the least of the price we had to pay.
And now I was down to weeks to figure out how to get him off the throne.