Chapter 110
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN
I n order to limit the amount of people who knew about Theodore’s presence, we took dinner in our private dining room.
The servants only looked vaguely uncomfortable when I requested they prepare a Lochlannian-style meal—one that would allow us to serve ourselves.
Because my wife was homesick, of course.
Once it was ready, I escorted Theodore from our study into the dining room connected to our suites. That is where our plans to end this war unfolded, across a table laden with beef stew, warm bread rolls, and tall glasses of dry red wine.
None of us were interested in more than the necessary bloodshed, and fortunately, Theodore had a plan that might just spare us from that.
“You need a way into the palace, and I can convince Iiro to invite you,” he said, grabbing another roll from the basket before dipping it into his stew.
It really was perfect. If he could persuade his brother to give us another chance to honor the treaty my father made, it would be a prime opportunity to pretend at making peace.
He went on to tell us about how Iiro was still utilizing Elk soldiers for his guard, slowly conscripting them into his personal army, and how many of them were unhappy with this. How it would be easy to get them to look the other way to make room for our soldiers.
The more we discussed a plan of action, the more I wanted to know what came next.
Theodore had said he wanted to send Iiro back to Elk, did that mean he would take his place as king?
Now that the Obsidian Palace was restored, now that his brother had proven the throne wasn’t cursed, did he expect to take up the mantle?
Part of me understood that he would be a better alternative to Iiro, but I wasn’t interested in ending one useless monarchy to establish another. Arès was unlikely to sign off on it either.
“And what about you?” I asked, carefully studying his expression. “What happens when this is over?”
Understanding dawned in his sharp gaze. He glanced between us, making sure he had both of our attention.
“Then we go back to the way things were,” he said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t want the throne before, and I sure as hell don’t want it now.”
The sincerity in his expression made me believe him. Theodore had never been power-hungry, and despite his willingness to go against his brother now, when it was a necessity, he was still too loyal, too honor-bound to steal the throne for himself.
It was as I had told Rowan the first time we fought about motives. No one with any sense wanted the cursed throne.
I pushed aside the issue of how much harder trade would be now that the usual enmity between clans had been fortified in blood. Bear had trade with Lochlann, and with Crane and Lynx.
It would have to suffice.
It only took two weeks for Iiro to extend the invitation—and only four words for him to show his arse.
To my loyal subject; Sir Evander, Duke of Clan Bear and Servant of the Socairan Crown,
I have decided, against my better judgment, to extend one last opportunity for you to do what is right to further a united Socair. In exactly three weeks’ time, we will be holding the annual tithing at the Palace. I will expect your presence, along with the agreed upon taxes.
And I am certain you will convince your allies to do their part as well. After all, no one wants a real war.
His Royal Majesty, King Iiro
I breathed out a sigh, rolling my eyes at the sheer audacity the aalio had. A real war . If his men weren’t feeling mutinous already, they sure as storms would be if they saw him making light of their own heavy casualties along with mine.
But, it was no more than I had expected since he was, in fact, an aalio .
After crumpling the letter, I tossed it into the fireplace. It would make for nice kindling later on.
From there, Rowan and I began to set things in motion. We would need to alert our men, need to fully prepare now that it was actually happening. But there was something still niggling at me when I looked at my wife and saw nothing but unshakable trust in her jade eyes.
“We need this to be a success,” I said, tightly.
“I know,” she replied, stepping closer to rest her hand against my forearm. “And your plan is a good one.”
Perhaps, but we needed more than that if we wanted to leave nothing to chance.
As it stood, Rowan and I would travel to the Obsidian Palace together, and Andrei would follow with her army of Unclanned. We would wait until they were inside the gates before staging our coup. Every piece was in place…except for one.
The one that held the most promise of victory.
We only had one chance to overthrow Iiro, and I wasn’t willing to risk it with a plan that was merely good .
“But not perfect,” I said, my muscles tightening, that invisible cord between us going so taut that it felt like it might snap.
“Nothing is perfect,” she said drily, her eyes narrowing in question.
I kept my features neutral. I could stop here, keep my mouth shut, and take my chances and keep her at my side where she belonged.
But I had promised her honesty. And I had promised her respect. Besides, I did have faith in her, my endlessly impressive wife.
So I forced myself to admit what I had been considering since the night Korhonan left.
“The men respect Andrei,” I said carefully. “But they revere you. And your affinity works best when you are out among the elements.”
The strategist and commander in me knew that the most powerful weapon in our arsenal was my storm-wielding wife. Even if every other part of me recoiled at the idea of putting her at risk this way.
Her lips parted, her shoulders falling as realization settled into her bones. She already knew what I was going to say.
“You should be the one who leads them into battle.” The words were like stones in my throat, each one heavier than the last.
Was I really sending my wife to lead an entire army through enemy territory to wage war against a tyrant when all I wanted was to protect her, to take her as far from Socair as possible until this was over?
Her eyes met mine with uncertainty, but pride shone through them as well.
“All right,” she said finally. “If you’re sure.”
Of course I wasn’t, but that was my selfishness speaking.
When I thought about everything she had said about choices, thought about what I knew she was capable of in this fight, and married that with what I already knew was the best possible plan, I was left with no other options.
“I’m sure,” I said, my voice betraying how little I wanted to go through with this. “After all, we’re in this together, right?”
She dipped her chin once, then she trailed her hands along my lapels, gripping them and pulling me down until my mouth was on hers.
I backed her against the desk, hungrily claiming her lips with my own. Lifting her hips, I set her down firmly on the desk, not caring that the motion scattered and bent the paperwork there. Not caring about anything but the literal force of nature that was my wife.
She would be all right. When this was over, she would still be safe, still here, still mine.
I told myself that over and over as I slid her gown up to her thighs, trailing my hands along her skin.
Each of her kisses was more fervent than the last, each one filled with all of the unspoken words between us.
All of them but goodbye, because this would not be the end for us.
I would make storms-damned sure of that.