Page 116 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

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 façade.

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 toafraid, 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.