Chapter 115
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN
T hough I normally would have had no complaints about staying in bed with my gorgeous wife for days on end, this situation was decidedly less fun than it could have been.
Yuriy brought me reports, and Korhonan came by more than once to express his gratitude and see how I was faring. Arès stopped by as well, though Rowan’s furious countenance chased him from the room rather quickly.
I understood her ire, but I wasn’t sure I shared it. Had I not made the vow to keep Iiro safe, I would have happily let him burn. It would have been the cleaner course of action, to be sure, and Arès was nothing if not practical.
My wife, somewhat less so when it came to the people she loved.
Despite the constant throbbing in my chest, I couldn’t just sit here while the other dukes discussed the future of Socair. By the third day, I demanded to be brought to the council room, and Rowan, of course, adamantly insisted that I stay in bed.
Despite the healer’s many reassurances about my steady improvement, my wife remained convinced I might die at any moment.
I couldn’t blame her, not when I remembered what it was like to be on the other side of this. We hadn’t even really belonged to each other when the fever threatened to take her from me, and those days had numbered along the worst of my life.
Still, I needed to get out of this room.
She finally relented, albeit reluctantly, so I slowly made my way downstairs, with a detour to Kirill’s room. He was in a private room on the floor underneath ours. I was beginning to suspect that we had actually been housed in one of the royal suites, perhaps because we were more removed from the others that way, and therefore more secure.
Kirill was propped up against a pillow, his only visible eye open but narrowed in pain. He looked even worse than I felt, but he still had a smile on his lips when we walked in the door. My gaze lingered on the bandage over his other eye, or rather, where the eye used to be, according to Rowan.
I sank into a chair, the short walk tiring me more than I wanted to admit, and surveyed my friend with concern, a small amount of guilt creeping in. He had lost his eye fighting for me.
But at least he hadn’t lost his life. There was relief in that.
“Don’t give me that look, Van,” he said flippantly, correctly interpreting the expression I was too tired to hide. “Though your wife clearly prefers pretty men, mine likes the rugged type, so she’ll be thrilled with this turn of events.”
I gave him a tired smile, shaking my head, and Rowan chuckled softly next to me.
“Pretty?” I demanded.
“It’s the eyelashes,” she said with a flippant glance at me.
Though she had no maid here, she had tamed her curls into submission in one of her warrior’s braids. She was dressed simply in her black travelling dress, her face free of cosmetics, and still the sight of her smirking up at me had my breath seizing in my lungs.
Kirill shrugged smugly at her agreement, and I pretended to take offense before forcing myself back to my feet. With a brief farewell, we continued our trek downstairs.
It was even slower going down the stairs to the council room. Each step jarred the wound in my chest, but I pushed the pain away before Rowan could see it on my face.
Finally, we made it to the room where the eight dukes were sitting, plus Yuriy, who had been acting in my stead as the next-highest-ranking member of Bear present.
Except for my wife, of course, but even if the men would have allowed it, she had refused to leave my side.
Yuriy jumped up from his seat. I settled into it, glaring at Mikhail until he vacated his own chair in favor of one further down so my wife could sit next to me.
I knew something was wrong when all eight sets of eyes settled on me warily. Nine, if I was counting Yuriy’s hesitant glances. My eyebrow raised of its own accord as I met each of their stares in turn.
“We’ve been discussing the next steps,” Korhonan said, hesitation clear in his tone. “Technically, by succession, the crown would fall to me…”
Now both of my eyebrows shot up. He had told Rowan and me in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t be taking the throne.
If I was being honest with myself, Korhonan wouldn’t make the worst ruler, but I wasn’t convinced he had the discernment or the strategy necessary to unite Socair.
Nor was there any world in which I was willing to be in subjection to him.
“But I don’t want it,” he finished before I could say any of those things.
“All right,” I said evenly, “so we go back to the way it was, as we discussed.”
Arès cleared his throat. “We believe that Socair would benefit from a more united front.”
Rowan shot him a look, but I didn’t think that was in response to his words as much as her general resentment of the man. I bit back a smile at her characteristic ruthlessness before returning my attention to the matter at hand.
“You have made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that you don’t believe the monarchy should be reinstated,” I reminded the Lynx duke.
“Under Iiro,” he agreed. “But if someone else were to take up that mantle…”
“Someone like…?” I asked, waiting for him to supply his own name.
“Someone like you,” Korhonan answered instead. “You are the one who defeated the king, after all.”
I blinked several times rapidly, sure I had misheard him. Once again, I surveyed the dukes at the table. Mikhail and Nils looked decidedly disgruntled, but I didn’t give a single damn what either of them thought, certainly not the latter. He was lucky I didn’t have the strength to sever his head from his body right now, though I just might find it if he so much as thought in the direction of my wife.
The other dukes appeared…thoughtful. Hopeful, even.
“You’re the logical choice,” Arès said. “I’ve observed your strategy myself, the way you form alliances, securing trade and food for the first time in a generation.”
“In spite of your father’s rule, those under your command consider your decisions to be fair, and you have been a loyal ally,” the duke of Crane added.
“And you are already peacefully tied to our only potential enemy,” Andreyev from Viper chimed in.
It was clear they had discussed this at length already.
Korhonan pushed a crisp sheet of parchment in front of me. I briefly scanned the contents of what appeared to be a contract to rule, written in elegantly lettered script…with eight signatures already on the bottom.
“It’s only missing yours,” Arès pointed out, nudging a quill and ink across the table toward me.
My mind reeled with the possibilities. Was this even something I wanted? I certainly didn’t want anyone else doing it, not when I didn’t trust their interests, but was a monarchy even necessary?
And what about Rowan?
I met her eyes solidly. They were wide with surprise, but also affirmation.
Her hand came over mine. “Think of your plans for resources. Think of everything you could accomplish.”
In spite of myself, I contemplated what they were asking. Socair would continue to suffer if the clans couldn’t band together. Hadn’t I thought that more than once?
Then I considered Rowan, how she had already changed things with the Unclanned and the women tending the injured, just in the short time she had been here.
How the balance of power had been off between us from the first day we met, and how many problems that had caused.
How she couldn’t even sit in on council meetings in my stead.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline to sign this document,” I said, shoving it back toward Korhonan.
Several mouths opened, no doubt to argue with me, when I raised my hand for silence.
“If, however, you feel so inclined to draw up a new contract for the monarchy,” I said casually. “One that includes my wife as an equal ruling partner, I could be convinced to sign that one.”
Gasps rang out across the table, but Korhonan nodded like he had been expecting that. Nils and Mikhail started speaking at the same time in clear opposition when Arès’ voice silenced them.
“Need I remind you both that we are generously deciding not to sanction your clans for your part in the war, nor to deprive Sir Nils of his head for his betrayal of an alliance.”
Their mouths closed so quickly, it was almost comical. I considered asking Arès if that second part was negotiable. Then again, if they amended their ruling contract, I wouldn’t have to ask.
Executing Nils could be my first official order as king.
It was tempting – so tempting. But I wouldn’t start my reign on bloodshed and bitterness, no matter how much I despised the man.
“It isn’t done,” the duke of Viper insisted quietly.
Remembering what Rowan had said to the bands of Unclanned every day for weeks when she was recruiting them, I let a haughty smirk take over my features.
“It is now,” I told him.
Korhonan spoke up as well. “I might point out that until last week, it was also unheard of for a woman to lead an army of Besklanovvy , but if Lady Stenvall hadn’t done just that, we would all still be under the rule of a tyrant king.”
He barely even stumbled over the description of his brother.
“Not to mention…” Arès gave my wife a look far fonder than the ones she had been giving him. “She has been raised for this, as second-in-line to her own throne, trained to rule the same as the dukes at this table.”
Reluctantly, Andreyev nodded, along with the rest of them. Except Mikhail and Nils, who still glowered silently.
I smirked at the latter. If I couldn’t kill him, subjecting him to the rule of the woman he insisted on being prejudiced toward was a solid consolation prize.
Then I turned to my wife, who actually appeared to be stunned into silence for a change.
Think of everything you could accomplish, she had said.
“We,” I corrected her.
She raised her eyebrows in question.
“Think of everything we could accomplish,” I said, squeezing her hand.
A slow smile spread across her lips.
“Well, then,” she said, entwining her fingers with mine. “I believe this calls for some vodka.”