Chapter 61
R owan paced the floor the entire morning before Lord Luca and Lady Mila arrived, though whatever anxiety she was feeling didn’t stop her from devouring her biscuits at breakfast.
Which was more than I could say for Taras. He forced himself through half of one biscuit before leaving the rest for the other men, or more likely, the princess, to snatch off the platter.
Then he also took to pacing.
Kirill and I exchanged a look, and he turned to Riina.
“Is the medovukha ready, Mistress Riina?”
She, too, looked at Taras with concern while Yuriy suppressed a small laugh.
“Any minute now,” she responded.
“Lemmikki, they should be here soon, if you find yourself wanting to wear something other than your dressing gown to greet Lord Luca.”
She raised her eyebrows, giving me a look that said she might do just that to be contrary. I sighed, massaging the bridge of my nose while she smirked in response. Visibly content at having won that round, she did eventually head upstairs.
So really, I won as well.
It wasn’t a moment too soon because the carriage arrived less than fifteen minutes later. Taras looked slightly vomitous as he stared out the frost-covered window, and I couldn’t deny a minor churning of my own stomach.
This alliance was unprecedented.
Lynx had been neutral since the Obsidian Throne was decimated years ago. That they were willing to ally now was telling, but also an edge Iiro wouldn’t have expected Bear to have.
Still, I wasn’t sure what the cost of that alliance would be.
Rowan bounded down the stairs before we could open the door, greeting Lady Mila with an enthusiasm I hadn’t witnessed from her since spotting her cousin at the negotiations.
Once again I considered how she had raced to him before her betrothed. I wondered where Mila would rate in that order, and if Rowan was still thinking about those negotiations now and wishing they had gone differently.
“Lord Evander.” Mila’s cold greeting pulled me from my thoughts.
“Lady Mila,” I addressed her with considerably more warmth.
Whatever she thought of me personally, she was about to be married to my cousin—hopefully. I wouldn’t start out any relationship with his wife on a bad note.
I also couldn’t find it in myself to dislike the woman who had fought on behalf of a foreign princess without a single selfish motive. She had earned my respect, if nothing else.
Taras observed the exchange but said nothing, not even bothering to formally introduce himself, which I did not find promising.
Der’mo , Cousin .
I shot him a look, but Rowan had already ushered her friend into the kitchen.
Luca watched them go, amusement and curiosity in his gaze. For his sister? For the easy friendship she had with Rowan? Or was it all for the Scarlet Princess herself?
That last thought had me tensing up a little more than I would have preferred, but I tried to keep the ice from my tone as I greeted him. Though, I likely wasn’t as successful as I would have preferred if his arched brow and knowing gaze were anything to go by.
Luca possessed all of Arès’s shrewdness, with the spark of humor I remembered from the few times I had met their late mother, which was sure to make these negotiations interesting, if nothing else.
I invited him and my newly mute cousin into the living room, taking a seat and gesturing for him to do the same. More than once, he stole curious glances at my lemmikki.
It struck me then, that Iiro might not be the only one to realize the value in allying with a princess of Lochlann.
“Lemmikki, fetch me a medovukha,” I called.
There was no harm in reminding him exactly who she belonged to. Besides, it would be better for her in the long run if people thought I actually treated her like a maid, rather than her admitting she shared my rooms by choice.
Or by necessity.
That was a line that got murkier by the day.
Luca shot me a look like he knew exactly what I was doing, and even Taras wore a slight disapproving frown. Which was interesting, coming from someone who hadn’t yet bothered to greet the lady who was brought here for the sole purpose of considering a marriage alliance with him .
I ignored them both, along with Rowan’s quirked eyebrow.
“Right away, most esteemed Lord Evander.” Would a stranger have been able to tell how sarcastic she was being?
Lord Luca pursed his lips like he was trying not to smile.
Yes. Obvious to everyone, it would seem.
Even more so when she walked as slowly as possible, serving our guest first. That was actually Socairan custom, but I was sure she had only done it to be ornery.
Her smirk served to confirm that theory.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” He emphasized her title, and I appreciated the respect he showed her, in spite of, well, herself .
Rowan might have been my pet, but she was still a princess to the rest of the world.
“Of course,” she responded sweetly, like she was always this accommodating.
She brought Taras his mug next, which was definitely not customary, but I couldn’t dredge up any real offense when she was so clearly enjoying this game of hers.
Even Taras looked amused as he took his steaming mug and politely thanked her as well. At least she had loosened him up a tiny bit.
She eventually brought my drink as well, walking slower than I would have believed possible for someone who had practically skipped around the cabin all morning.
With pursed lips and eyes dancing with amusement, she addressed me in her most innocent sounding voice. “Is there anything else you need from me, or might I go visit with my friend, by your leave, oh gracious and magnanimous owner?”
She truly was a brat, and that was definitely not laughter I felt threatening to escape my lips.
“I suppose I will allow it,” I said, keeping my features neutral.
“You are too kind.” She had, apparently, kept up her saccharine tone for as long as she was capable, because those last words fell flat.
She returned to the kitchen to visit with Mila, a self-satisfied grin tugging at her full lips as she pretended to ignore me. I hadn’t realized I was fixated on her retreating form until Lord Luca cleared his throat.
Der’mo.
“I understand now why my father was even willing to consider an alliance through your cousin.” His tone was even, his voice low. It hadn’t been a comment meant for the room, but a small acknowledgment of the rather precarious position I had found myself in. Had encouraged, even.
I sighed, several responses flitting through my head, the many excuses I had prepared for why I wanted to delay my marriage specifically.
For better or worse, though, Luca was every bit as discerning as his father. If I hedged now, there was every possibility he would leave.
So, I didn’t pretend to mistake his meaning, even if I wasn’t yet fully willing to consider all that he was implying. Instead, I nodded toward my cousin.
“Taras is in high standing in our clan, and my father is fond of him.” Both were true, as much as my father was capable of something like fondness . “As I have no intentions of marrying any time soon, he will be an ideal match for your sister.”
There was a prolonged, tense silence while Luca considered my words. He looked at Taras, who was sitting in his chair like a soldier fresh out of initial training. But he exuded honorability, so there was that.
Luca turned his attention to the ladies in the kitchen, then back to me, nodding to himself.
“All right. I accept your invitation to discuss terms of a betrothal between Lord Taras and Lady Mila.”
Once we had discussed initial terms of timing, dowry, and the terms of the alliance itself, I offered Luca my study if he wished to speak with his sister privately.
She followed him to the room, but not before sneaking several subtle glances at Taras on her way.
My cousin stared at the closed door for a long moment, his features a shade too neutral. We hadn’t had a chance to speak alone about any of this yet, but he insisted he had wanted to be the one to see it all through.
While he was reserved by nature, I had never seen him at such a loss for words, leaving me to wonder exactly what was going on in his head.
He tapped his fingers along his thigh in an anxious, rhythmic pattern, before finally excusing himself to join the other men outside. They were in friendly competition with the Lynx soldiers in the sparring ring, and Taras no doubt could stand to work off some of his steam.
Which left me alone with my feral pet princess.
I crossed to the vat of medovukha, pouring myself another cup.
“Sure you don’t want me to fetch that for you?” she mocked, her voice deepening on the word fetch in one of her terrible imitations of my own.
I shrugged, letting out a low laugh. “Well, if you’re offering.”
She glared at me, and I sighed. Darting a glance at the door, I lowered my voice, for all that it mattered when Luca saw so much more than I wanted him to.
“Well, your delicate reputation—and mine, of course—would be at risk if they suspected you were anything other than a prisoner at risk of escaping,” I explained.
Luca’s supposed observations and our newfound alliance aside, it wouldn’t be smart to run around advertising that Rowan had chosen to be in my room here.
She froze. It was strange how she could be so brave when it came to jumping into battle, but acknowledging this simple fact was too much for her.
“Which, of course, is exactly what you are,” I continued after a moment, giving her the excuse she so obviously needed.
But for once, she didn’t look relieved. Her gaze searched mine, her voice barely above a whisper when she spoke.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing we’re both so good at pretending.”
Like how we were pretending right now that there wasn’t lightning crackling in the space between us.
“Are we?” I challenged.
Are we pretending? Are we even remotely good at it anymore?
Her lips parted, but she didn’t make a sound, didn’t break my stare. The clock above the mantle ticked out several interminable seconds while neither of us spoke or moved or breathed.
Then the door opened, and the moment was over.
But the questions remained.