Page 29 of Obsidian Throne
“It was a long time ago, Lemmikki,” he said, somewhat defensively. “And when exactly was I supposed to bring that up? Did you want me to casually mention it this morning on the way to the sparring ring, or perhaps while we were in the bath?”
“At literally any point before I had to figure it out at this luncheon would have been preferable,” I shot back. “Honestly, how would you have felt in Lochlann if you had been sitting down to cards with the lairds and happened upon the realization that the one sitting next to you had bedded your wife?”
His features darkened, and he looked away. “Fair point.”
I sighed. “I’m not complaining that you have a past, Evander. But in the future, perhaps you could just...let me know what I’m walking into.”
He nodded, and I gave him a more pointed look. “I’m giving you the chance, right now, before another luncheon tomorrow.”
Evander leveled me with a look. “I’m not Davin, Lemmikki. It’s not as though I’ve been with half the court.”
“I’m sure he’d be offended that you think it’s only half.” A smile tugged at my lips.
Evander’s lips tilted into an amused smirk as he set the bottle down and stepped closer to me. “If it matters to you, I will make sure that you are...informed, should the situation arise.”
“Yes, it matters to me,” I said, peeking up at him through my lashes.
My hands went to run along his chest, and I stood up on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear in the same low, possessive tone he had used with me the day he arrived at the Lochlannian Court. “Or did you forget that I own you, Evander?”
He let out a chuckle at the echo of his words. “I could never forget that, Lemmikki.”
* * *
Dinner with Mila and Taras was a welcome break from thinking about the politics of my new life.
“I am so ready to bring these new dresses in style with you,” Mila gestured toward her pale-yellow gown, which was a similar design to mine. “I may not fight or ride a horse the way you do, but they’re comfortable. Besides, anything is better than southern style clothing.”
She gave a visible shudder, and I joined her.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Evander was rather fond of those nightgowns. He found them to be quite...provocative.” I used his word from the first night we had been forced to share a bed at the inn.
Taras shook his head while my husband choked on a small chuckle.
“Indeed, I did,” Evander agreed. “I’m not sure how I kept my hands off you then, what with the seventeen layers of irresistible ruffles.”
Mila laughed out loud, a rich sound that permeated the room. “I’m fortunate that my father was more lenient than most dukes. I was never forced to suffer those.”
“A fact for which I am grateful,” Taras added.
“Speaking of your father, he looked...displeased as he was leaving the other day,” I commented.
Mila exchanged a look with her husband.
“Yes, well, Iiro is pressuring him to sign. And he isn’t thrilled that as Bear’s ally, it’s harder for him to stay neutral. But neither was Evander here to prevent this from happening,” she said quietly.
Evander went still, but not in the way that this was a surprise to him. More in the way that he was waiting to see how I took it, the realization that by coming to me in Lochlann, he had upset not one, but two of his allies.
And allowed Iiro to become King, or whatever version of it he was currently playing.
Something apparently everyone at this table had known but me.
When I didn’t respond, Evander spoke up. “Well, we’re working on that.”
“How?” I asked.
“Slowly,” he responded. “And carefully. We’re trying to find diplomatic solutions, and if not…”
He trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blank.