Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
T hough I hadn’t been especially excited about the idea of a night with other men for company instead of my future wife, I found myself enjoying the evening more than I expected.
Somewhere between the rare sight of my cousin having actual fun, the kind of casual time with my men I usually only got to spend at the cabin, and Davin and Gallagher’s general commitment to keeping the night entertaining, it was surprisingly late before I was back to my bed.
That didn’t stop me from waking at sunrise, heart beating faster than usual in my chest. There were still so many things that could go wrong before our vows were completed.
Since I doubted seriously there was any risk of running into my lemmikki at this hour, I threw on my clothes and headed to the barracks to burn off the residual energy. My men were up as well, all but Pavel, who had taken the night watch after the festivities.
They stood at attention when I walked in, halting in the midst of their morning conditioning. I had chosen each of them to come here because they were among our best men, but every soldier in Bear was accustomed to training on little to no sleep. I had ensured that my men were the best in Socair, making it doubly concerning that Taras felt our numbers were insufficient for the upcoming wedding.
There was more than tension between the clans, something he wasn’t telling me—either by choice or because it was imprudent to put it in writing.
I nodded for the men to return to their conditioning, gesturing for Yuriy to meet me in the ring. The newly formed scar on my chest prickled uncomfortably for the first round, but it eased once I warmed up. Gradually, more of my men joined the ring, until I was facing off against an endless wave.
It was enough to clear the incessant buzzing along my skin, the unrelenting feeling that something in the universe would still try to take this from me.
Finally, when the last soldier was disarmed, I dismissed my men to prepare for the wedding while I left to do the same.
To the general surprise of no one, Davin and Gallagher were lounging in my rooms by the time I emerged from the bath in my robe, both already dressed for today’s event.
“I actually do know how to put my own kilt on this time, as much as I enjoyed your invasive assistance for the festival,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips in spite of myself.
“Oh, don’t mind us,” Gallagher said lightly. “We’re just here to make sure you don’t run away before the wedding.”
“See, it’s tradition since my dear father jilted Auntie Charlie the day of their own nuptials,” Davin explained with a sage nod.
I blinked, having been wholly unaware of that bit of history about my new family. “I see.”
Davin smirked when I didn’t argue, pushing a glass of whiskey into my hand. Even if I ordered them out, they weren’t likely to listen—at least, Davin wasn’t. And a small part of me acknowledged that their company was better than spending the next hour contemplating the many things that could still go wrong.
I had planned all I could.
Now all that was left was to get through the ceremony. Then, I could finally take my wife to our bed.
Yuriy showed up not long after Davin and Gallagher. He hadn’t played the part of my cousin up until now, but it was his job to represent our clan and our family today.
Instead of his summer uniform, he wore his formal military suit. Though Jocelyn had given me the option of doing the same, I had ceded to the Lochlannian culture today. My black-and-white kilt had been delivered just the night before, and I would pair it with the high-collared jacket of my clan.
I was midway through winding the thick tartan around my waist when the door swung open with an audible click.
It was the main door, not the passageway. Since Rowan was forbidden from seeing my face before our wedding and Avani likely would have used the back entrance, that limited the options of who it could be.
I spun toward the sound, my free hand already reaching for my sword, when I froze.
The king stood in the doorway. He was dressed in his own kilt, his crown resting over the crimson topknot on his head.
“Does no one in this family know how to knock?” I muttered, as much from surprise as a general lack of anything else to say.
The king and I had never been on simple greeting terms. His eyes sparked with a bare trace of amusement, one I might not have recognized had I not spent so much time with Avani this past week.
“I’ll take it from here, lads,” he announced with all of the authority of his position.
He didn’t look particularly angry, but I suspected the man was capable of killing in cold blood if the need arose. I couldn’t fathom what other reason he had for coming to my rooms just before the wedding he had never wanted to occur.
I looked at Gallagher, because his even features were easier to read than Davin’s flawless facade.
He only shrugged.
“Don’t be too afraid of Uncle Logan.” He got to his feet, patting me on the back. “His bark is worse than his bite.”
I wouldn’t go right to afraid , but neither did I want to come to blows with my wife’s father the day of our wedding.
Davin made a face. “Don’t lie to the man. His bite is plenty terrible.” Then he grinned. “But don’t worry, new cousin. Row will protect you. Stars know she can be just as vicious as Uncle Logie-Bear here when she wants to be.”
I shook my head, willing myself not to chuckle at the ridiculous name I was fairly certain the king did not appreciate.
Sure enough, he glared at both of his nephews, though there was no real heat in it. They fled the room, nonetheless, leaving me with only my cousin and the king.
Yuriy got to his feet as well, but only to edge slightly between the massive man and me, looking at me with a hint of a question in his eyes. I assessed the king for a hint of his intentions, but he only stared back at me.
Since I didn’t actually think he had come here with the intent of physical harm—not now that he was already dressed for the wedding, anyway—I nodded my permission for Yuriy to leave.
Once he was gone, I turned to the man who had resisted my entry to his family at every turn, silently demanding to know why he had come.
“Your Majesty,” I greeted, reminding us both of his preferred form of address.
He let out a slow breath, his lips turning up at the corners. The amusement was unexpected, knocking me slightly off my guard.
There was something different to his presence today, something slightly more relaxed. Or maybe just resigned.
“Lord Evander,” he returned my greeting, his eyes sweeping from my neatly styled hair to the hand that still held my kilt in place. “It’s customary for a father to help prepare the groom on the wedding day.”
That may have been true, but he had certainly never indicated that was a role he wished to fill.
I tried not to think of my own father, to wonder if he would be lucid enough to fulfill his own ceremonial duties on my wedding day or if he would call me by the name of his dead brother in one breath while he plotted the murder of my wife’s family in the next.
If he would even bother, or if he would be too furious by the choices I had made to lend his tacit support away from the prying eyes of the other dukes.
Not that it should matter anymore, after the things he had done. I hadn’t had an actual father for a long time, and I didn’t need the approval of one now.
Which was probably just as well, since I doubted very much I had it. Of course, that begged the question of why the king was here at all.
I forced a smirk, giving it my best guess. “So, your wife forced you to come, then?”
Or Avani?
He let out a low laugh, but didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he took a deep breath, crossing the room to the table with my belt and moving toward me.
His features were still guarded, but something close to grief churned in his emerald gaze as he wrapped my belt around my waist. Perhaps even…remorse. I stood still, allowing him to complete whatever ritual was necessary for reasons I didn’t quite understand.
“Not this time,” he finally answered, fastening the silver sporran. This one had arrived along with my kilt, carved with an intricate engraving of a bear in the center of a rowan tree.
He could have been saying that it was someone else who forced him to come, but there was a softness in his movements that belied that explanation. For whatever reason, he had chosen to come here of his own accord.
I didn’t have a response for that, so I said nothing.
Once my sporran was securely in place, he reached for the black coat that hung on the outside of the armoire.
“My Dá died before I married Charlie,” he said, holding it out. “So, a good friend, a man named Aengus, stood in his place.”
I heard what he wasn’t saying. In the absence of a father, this role could have been performed by a friend. Was that the real reason Davin and Gallagher had come earlier?
They had been just as surprised as I had by the king’s arrival. He had made a choice to come, when no one expected him to.
I shrugged into my coat, words failing me as he buttoned each of my buttons with a wholly unexpected gentleness. For the first time, I saw the man from the portraits, the one who must have buttoned up any number of coats and dresses on a horde of unruly children. Who had brought up his daughters and nieces and nephews with enough affection that they openly teased the warrior of a king who struck fear into the hearts of two kingdoms.
And now, he was extending that to me, for reasons I couldn’t quite fathom.
“And now, I’ll stand in for...” he paused, taking a breath as he pulled my coat into place. “...for your father.”
He said the words without a trace of the vitriol I wouldn’t have blamed him for.
Now he would stand in willingly for a man he had spent the last two decades hating. A man who hated this family and the cherished daughter I was carting back within his reach.
By choice.
Swallowing against the sudden, unexpected feeling that brought forth, I finally found the words I was looking for.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He smiled outright at me, letting the expression stand for the first time since I met him. “Ach, I suppose ye can call me Logan.”
He clapped me on the back. “And now it’s time to go. Mo bhobain will kill us both if you’re late.”
A chuckle escaped me, and I made a note to ask Rowan what the name meant later.
“That she will.”