Chapter 26
I received another missive from Iiro just as my pet received one from her former betrothed. And another from her guard.
I read that one first. It was shockingly familiar, recounting a number of stories that were definitely not amusing. There was something in the cadence of lines that was reminiscent of the princess he served, perhaps only culturally.
Remember that time we woke up on the floor of a Socairan dungeon? I never actually thought we would top that, but you appear to have more of Gwyn’s competitive streak than I ever gave you credit for.
Lest you think I am not having my own fun here in Elk, I’ll have you know that thrice this week I have caused a bit of a tizzy. Once by offering to shake the hand of a single lady who came to visit, which is apparently as good as inviting her to my bed. Not that I would have minded, of course, but you know how I usually save those propositions for when I’m alone with a woman, and not standing before her entire family.
Another time, I found myself drunk off my arse when I kept draining my vodka glass, only to have it refilled immediately. I didn’t ask for more to drink, they just kept pouring, and of course, I’m not rude, nor am I wasteful when it comes to our favorite beverage.
But just so you know, when you finish your glass, it can be considered a request for more.
And finally, there was a situation involving my giving Lord Iiro-No-Fun-At-All-Pants a thumbs up. In case you haven’t learned this special little gesture yet, it is considered quite rude. It also should only be used if you’re offering for the recipient to sit on said finger.
As you can see, I’m having more fun than even I can handle, and I wish you had been here to enjoy the shocked look on his face when I politely told him I would rather have died than have his arse anywhere near my thumb.
Do feel free to let me know what actually happened this past week at your leisure, since the arselings at Elk have been less than forthcoming.
I hope you’re happy because ‘Lord’ Theodore—who, by the way, alleges you were betrothed by the time you were taken—is even less amusing when you aren’t around.
He went on to say how there was no fun in all of Socair, leading me to believe all Lochlannians of their generation must be as spoiled as the princess.
I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised at how close they were, given the circumstances of her capture, but his casual letter had my eyebrows raising all the same. Given that and his evident level of education, he must have been a noble’s son, at least, and perhaps afforded more privileges because of whatever relationship he had with the princess.
There was a protective tone to the letter, which was consistent with him being her guard, but there was calculation there as well. He wasn’t all brawn.
Certain phrases caught my eye, but there was nothing outwardly incriminating.
I scanned the letter several times for any hint of a code, decidedly not chuckling at the part about Korhonan. I didn’t see any pattern or anything he could have been conveying. The name Gwyn stood out to me, but there was a Princess Gwyndolyn in Lochlann. If the guard was this familiar with Rowan, it stood to reason he was close to the others, and I gathered that nicknames were more common in Lochlann than they were here.
Either that, or the princess was improper, even by her own people’s standards, because she didn’t seem to understand the issue with referring to Korhonan as Theo .
Bile rose in my throat at the shortened name, one Iiro had used as well. Reluctantly, I moved on to Theodore’s letter.
It was penmanship I knew well, from back when we had exchanged letters as boys. He had always been soft, but he had been loyal enough that I believed it could make him brave, or at the very least, stoic.
As it turned out, Theodore’s only loyalty was to his brother, and his only strength was for his brother’s aims. He could play the nice, protective lord as much as he wanted to with Rowan and the rest of the world, but I knew he would just as soon let the rest of the world burn for his brother’s schemes.
Scanning the contents of the letter, I couldn't physically suppress an eye roll. At least he didn’t bother promising her she would get out of here. Still, his sappy words were enough to make me vow to have someone else read her outgoing mail, knowing how likely it was that she was going to respond in kind.
In any event, I doubted seriously Rowan would be encoding anything in her letters. She was smart enough, in her own way, but not exactly subtle.
Iiro’s letter was even more irritating than his brother’s, though for entirely different reasons. He delivered a number of thinly veiled threats and hinted that he would run to King Logan when the pass opened, like he wasn’t the one who put us all in this mess to begin with.
Finally, he suggested a meeting spot that I immediately countered. It might have been neutral, technically speaking, but Bison was far too close to Elk for comfort.
Sometimes, I attempted to examine Iiro through the lens of someone who didn’t already hate him, but he had so few redeeming qualities that it proved to be a futile effort.
I tucked the letters away and walked upstairs just in time to hear the princess arguing with my cousin about his refusal to play cards with her. As my second-in-command, Taras was nearly as feared as I was.
By everyone but her, of course.
“It’s only one game,” she insisted.
He sighed audibly, and I could practically hear his speech from earlier resounding. “Highness, please return to your rooms.”
“Or, you could please remove the stick from your?—”
I cleared my throat before she could finish that sentence, since Taras hardly needed to despise her more than he already did.
“Lemmikki, do try to refrain from harassing my men.”
As I suspected, her eyes flashed with ire. She blew a stray curl out of her face with an irritable huff.
“But he makes it so easy,” she shot back in a singsong tone.
Taras clenched his jaw and I sighed. Fortunately, I had something to distract her.
“So, I suppose you aren’t interested in these letters, then?” I held out the missives in question.
“From who?” she demanded, stretching out an imperious hand.
I studied her carefully. “One from Lord Theodore and one from…your eunuch guard.”
Her eyes lit up with mirth, and she looked away like someone who wasn’t even trying to sell a lie. “It was thoughtful of him to check on me.”
So that’s how she wants to play it.
“Indeed,” I agreed. Only when I placed her letters in her waiting hand did I realize just how close she was standing to me, whatever fear she had felt before having apparently dissipated as quickly as it came.
She emanated so much warmth for her diminutive stature.
Taras’s stare bored into the side of my face, and I took a small step back as she snatched the parchment from my hand. She looked at the paper, then back to me with narrowed eyes.
“Did you read my letters?”
I noted that she was less concerned than she was indignant, which further lent itself to my assessment that she was unlikely to be sending encoded messages—or looking for them.
But she couldn't have honestly thought that I was going to grant her letters privacy.
“That depends. Are you a prisoner receiving letters from an enemy clan?”
She shot me a look that had no real heat to it, apparently too excited about her letter from her long lost love of not-quite-fourteen-days to dredge up any real anger. All at once, I was ready to be away from her.
“You can pass any return letters along to Taras,” I instructed, effectively dismissing her. “I’m sure he would be thrilled to read through them before sending them along.”
The man in question raised his eyebrows, managing to convey that he would rather fall upon his own sword than read Rowan’s letters. That was one sword I was happy to throw him in front of, if only to spare myself. I smiled, and he grimaced right back.
“Delighted,” he responded.
She all but sprinted into her rooms, leaving me with my cousin staring daggers at me.
“Be sure to read them thoroughly,” I said with a smirk, disappearing into my own room.
I could feel his glare all the way through the door.