Page 72 of Crimson Kingdom
“He isn’t wrong about the danger,” Evander said quietly.
“And you think that I don’t know that?” I looked up at him. “That I don’t have the reminder permanently etched into my skin?”
His features tightened. “I think that you have a habit of behaving recklessly, and we’re going to need to proceed with extreme caution, especially until our...alliance is official in Socair and you have the protection of a clan wife.”
Evander got to his feet, pouring himself a glass of whiskey high enough to rival mine. He gestured for us to go into the sitting room.
“Will that even matter, when Ava is a clan wife, too?” I asked, following him and sinking into a plush armchair.
I was happy to latch on to any distraction to keep me from what I actually came here to discuss.
“On the surface, yes,” he said thoughtfully. “Even the Dukes can’t harm their own wives. It’s probably the single limitation to their power, lest the people revolt. However, given Ava’s underhanded methods, it’s not a perfect solution.”
I met his gaze. “This is assuming your father even agrees to this.”
“I have taken measures to ensure that he will,” he said carefully. “Looking for a way out already, Lemmikki?”
I paused to take a small sip of my drink, mostly to hide my reaction to the endearment on his lips.
“Just wanting to be sure what I’m walking into.” Like a crowd of old perverts watching us on our wedding night. “Is there anything else I should know about, then? Any arcane blood rituals or sacrifices to the god of foul-tasting soup?”
He peered at me as if trying to figure out where I was really going with this. “No, from what I understand, it’s similar to weddings here.”
“And...” I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “What about the wedding night?”
Evander blinked several times, the only sign that he was surprised by that line of questioning. He took a long, slow sip of his whiskey.
“What is it you want to know?” he finally asked, his low tone indecipherable.
Already, I felt the heat trying to creep up from my chest. I willed it back down, willed myself not to think about the many directions that question could go.
“How is the consummation...verified?” It was an effort to keep my voice even.
His shoulders relaxed as my meaning visibly clicked into place for him. “Well, old Socairan law dictates that a room of witnesses is the only reputable method...”
A vision flashed before my eyes, of Evander and me, bare, surrounded by a dozen Sir Mikhails. I blanched.
“But those laws are not generally adhered to anymore,” he went on, amusement glinting in his gaze.
Of course, theaaliohad baited me on purpose.
“Even my dear father isn’t quite that archaic,” he explained. “It’s just the standard examination the next morning.”
“What standard examination?” I demanded.
Was this also to be in a room full of people?
He cleared his throat, taking another long dreg of his drink. “Of your...maidenhood. Or lack thereof, as the case may be.”
I nodded like this was no issue for me. “I see.”
Tipping my glass back, I swallowed another mouthful of whiskey. The alcohol burned on the way down, but it did nothing to detract from the intensely uncomfortable nature of this conversation.
Evander assessed me for a long moment before speaking carefully. “We don’t have to...do anything you don’t want to do.”
“So, we can forgo the charming exam?” I asked, a trace of sarcasm in my tone. “Which, for the record, is notstandardhere.”
“So I gathered by your line of questioning.” His tone was quietly sardonic. “And no, given Socairans and their traditions, we can’t forgo the examination and hope to maintain any sort of legitimacy. But we can...forgo the events the night before.”