Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
W hatever my thoughts on the competition had been initially, I couldn’t deny the energy that thrummed through my veins as I carried us across the finish line. First, obviously.
Throughout my life, I had sparred, both to train and burn off rage, had exercised for those same purposes, but I wasn’t sure I had ever exerted myself purely for fun.
Save for the times I had bested Korhonan in the sparring ring, but that had hardly counted as exertion.
Though there was a purpose behind our participation today, it was still an unfamiliar feeling, the triumph at our win that was unencumbered by the looming threat of death or clan pride or my complicated history with Elk.
By the time we secured our victory, Rowan and I were both spattered in mud, though significantly less than some of the couples who finished just behind us.
I tried to picture my cousin in this particular race, determinedly toting Mila through the mud with his usual stoic expression, and a chuckle escaped me. It was drowned out by the sound of Rowan’s laughter and that of the couples around us. Even Jocelyn giggled when Oliver set her on the ground with a flourish, wiping a bit of mud from her cheek.
I reluctantly followed suit, lowering myself until Rowan could dismount. I didn’t hesitate once her feet hit the ground before pulling her in against my side.
For the show we were putting on for the people, obviously. Not because the sudden absence of her warmth was more jarring than I expected it to be.
Ours was one of the last games of the day, taking place alongside the competition wherein the men tossed giant tree trunks—the one Rowan’s father participated in. The sun was setting by the time we made our way back toward the main festival. I stopped to pick up my swords from where Prince Finn was standing guard over the weapons, sliding them back into the sheath on my back. Whatever Rowan’s potential ulterior motives for the race had been, the people were, in fact, looking at us both with considerably more warmth than they had around the sparring beam.
They parted easily for us to pass, more out of courtesy than the fear of my sabres they had shown before.
We made our way through to a wide, flat field that had been cordoned off as a makeshift dance floor. Lanterns glowed around the space, lending an ethereal feel to the clearing.
Rowan’s hand tightened on my arm, and I looked around in concern before I realized there was no danger this time, nor anxiety. Her eyes were bright, and she bounced ever so slightly on her toes when the musicians started up.
There was, to my everlasting relief, a notable lack of bagpipes this time.
Rowan’s parents led out the first dance. Whatever my own interactions with her father had entailed, it was clear, that he adored his wife. He doted on her with unabashed affection, displaying an intimacy that would have signaled a weakness in Socair.
I wondered what the dukes would have said if they could have seen the scourge of their entire existence dancing with his giggling Warrior Queen without giving a single damn who saw the depth of his admiration.
For that matter, I wasn’t sure if I felt uncomfortable or strangely…envious.
Before I could contemplate that too deeply, the music picked up in tempo. High-pitched squeals sounded out in the crowd as all of the women clamored for the dance area, including the maid-spy, who had given me a wide berth today. One of the younger twins came to drag Rowan away, and even Avani allowed herself to be dragged by the other twin, a semblance of a real smile on her wan features.
The crowd clapped in tandem, three quick beats, which was apparently a symbol for the women to begin. Even among her own people, Rowan was short enough that I lost her in the massive crowd. I picked my way through the onlookers to search for her as the tempo slowed down to a steady beat that even the children could easily follow.
The queen and Isla were helping several of the smaller ones through the series of kicks and stomps and twirls. Then the beat picked up speed, increasing with each iteration. A few of the slower dancers and the children faltered after four rounds, making their way away from the floor and turning to watch the others, but I still couldn’t see my lemmikki.
My skin prickled uncomfortably, and I resisted the urge to go for my sabres, instead making my way around to the other side of the floor, peering through a sea of flower crowns and crimson curls.
Queen Charlotte and Isla left in the next round, more because they were too busy falling all over each other laughing to focus on the dance than from any real lack of skill.
The younger twins didn’t outlast them by long, and Taisiya left soon after, with the largest group yet.
Finally, I spotted her. She was one of the last dancers left, alongside Gwyn, Avani, and four other women. Once my eyes were on her, it was impossible to look away.
Her cheeks were bright and rosy, her head thrown back with laughter that carried even over the increasingly loud music. She moved on light, quick steps, twirling with a speed that was rivaled only by Gwyn’s, landing each move with a sharp accuracy.
The music ended and her gaze snapped to mine as though on instinct, finding me easily in the crowd, even though I had moved several paces from where I had been standing when she left.
She made her way over to me, still beaming with a genuine smile, devoid of mischief for a rare change. I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Impressive,” I told her honestly.
Not that I had doubted she would keep up. It was just as I thought earlier: there were few competitions we couldn’t have won together.
Her smile morphed into something closer to her usual teasing expression; though, her eyes glowed with satisfaction from the praise.
She leaned closer to me to be heard over the hum of the crowd. “And here you doubted my stamina.”
I let out a low laugh. It was strange how easy it had been to fall back into our old patterns once Korhonan was gone. Whether it was the sober reminder brought on by her stabbing, or the conversation from the night before she agreed to marry me, her bitterness seemed to have dissipated into something almost…playful.
Or perhaps she was only as tired of the contention as I was, unwilling to walk down an aisle filled with mutual hatred.
Though a small part of me hoped she was doing more than making the best of the limited time here, she had given no real indication that she was preparing for a life in Socair.
And I still hadn’t forgotten her earlier taunts.
The music started again, the beginnings of a lively take on a familiar tune, one that accompanied a common court dance here.
I raised an eyebrow at her, holding out my hand in an invitation to dance. It was hard to believe that it had been less than a year since the first time I had done so, at a gathering held for far darker reasons. When she was just the spoiled princess accusing me of wanting to get my hands on her, then getting offended when I assured her I didn’t.
Perhaps things hadn’t changed much, for that matter.
Though this time, she took my hand without reluctance. The dance began, and she followed me with the same ease she always had, like her body was intrinsically aligned with mine, tied together by a thousand strands of the same invisible string that always led me straight to her.
Tonight, every single one of them seemed to crackle with their own streak of lightning, zapping with an intensity that was almost painful on the moves that placed her out of my reach.
I spun her in the air as the dance required, setting her down several inches closer to me. The tension only intensified with her proximity, but I couldn’t bring myself to want it any other way.
I had endured plenty of torture before, but I had never willingly thrown myself into the furnace of my own self destruction the way I always seemed to do when she was around.
The music slowed for a calmer dance, and I pulled her against me, my world narrowing to the embers of desire glowing in her pale-green eyes. Her breath hitched with the contact, and my fingers tightened around her waist at the sound.
It was almost too easy here to feed on the energy of the crowd. I understood better, now, why the king and queen hadn’t cared about their subjects watching. There was freedom in the forthright, open nature of thesese people. I didn’t care that we were standing in the middle of a dance floor or that my own people would have died at the impropriety when I tugged her close enough to feel the warmth of her body solidly against mine.
“A kiss from the happy couple!” The shout was closer than I expected, louder than it should have been.
I realized with a jolt that the music had stopped. The dance had ended. And the entirety of the crowd was focused on us.
The man used his ale to gesture toward Rowan and me, a few droplets sloshing out onto the ground.
Rowan’s hand tensed on my chest, but a glance at her rosy cheeks told me it was less from nerves than anticipation. Her earlier taunts sounded in my ear.
I’d be discreet, of course.
The hell you will, Lemmikki.
Driven by a single-minded need to be closer to her, to taste the confections on her lips and feel her chest rise against mine with her inhaled breath, to chase the barest thought of every other man from her chaotic mind, I leaned down toward her. I couldn’t find it in me to give a single damn that this was not done in Socair.
We weren’t in Socair right now.
Her lips parted, already waiting for me.
“For the show.” I ghosted the words against her mouth in a small bit of retribution for her earlier threats.
Then I finally gave in to the endless temptation of her perfect lips, sealing my mouth against hers with a reminder and a promise of who she belonged to.
Who she would always belong to.
The kiss was short, and relatively chaste for the sake of the king who was somewhere in this crowd looking for an excuse to end my life, but it still reverberated through my body, the tension between us humming in pleasure like it had a life of its own.
I forced myself to break away from her, forced my features into a semblance of my usual smug mask, when I straightened to face the crowd.
Rowan inhaled a sharp breath, her eyes glazed and her cheeks flushed, and satisfaction flowed through me.
“I bet you aren’t thinking about stableboys now,” I teased her quietly.
Her lips formed an offended “o,” and I could practically hear the word aalio emanating from her very soul.
The crowd roared around us, but I could still hear her quiet, snarky response.
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
I might have been bothered by her denial if she hadn’t been wearing her lie face, the hand pressed against my chest clutching just a bit tighter than it had before.
She was claiming me as surely as I was her. She was just better at lying to herself about it.