Page 78 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

“As long as you know the reverse is true as well.” Though her voice was breathless, there was a savage edge to her words.

Did she honestly think I was that much of a hypocrite? Or that I could possibly want anyone else?

I almost told her that I would sooner dig my way through the Masach Mountains in a blizzard to have her in my bed than invite another woman to it, but I hadn’t forgotten her taunts so quickly.

So I only dipped my chin in agreement, like I was granting her a stipulation rather than assuring her of something I would have abided by anyway.

“Then we have our terms.”

We might have managed a show of ajoyous unionfor the people, but now that Rowan had successfully raised the stakes ofwhatever game of fish stew we were playing, the tension between us was pulled tightly to the point of snapping.

While I greeted her people and indulged her by looking at small trinkets, inwardly I debated what she was trying to gain with her stableboy comment.

Was it only her way of assuring my fidelity? Lochlannians might take mistresses, but it was rare enough in Socair that we didn’t even have a literal translation for it in any of the dialects I knew.

Then again, so was having an absentee wife. Even with the promise of food and the excuse of a necessary alliance, her refusal to reside in my clan—or even my kingdom—would be seen as an insult. It was guaranteed to be a source of contention, if not outright scorn.

And as long as my father was alive, I needed the voluntary support of the lords in my kingdom and the clan dukes, which meant towing a careful line with their disapproval. Marrying Rowan would push those boundaries far enough, even if she lived in Socair.

But I had given her that choice for a reason, and it wasn’t only to keep her from Korhonan.

“This is Laird Evander of Clan Bear,” Rowan said for at least the hundredth time today, pulling me from my thoughts. I had stopped short of correcting her on the title when I saw the way the older couple’s faces softened at the more familiar term.

She had brought us to a dessert booth this time, much to my dismay.

"I thought he might enjoy one of your delicious waffles.” Rowan’s smile didn’t falter, now that we had been through this routine several times over.

Would I?

I didn’t understand the general fascination with dessert, but this one was especially bland looking.

The aging couple in charge of the stand both cast me wary glances, but they nodded in acknowledgement. The woman speared one of the rustic square-shaped pieces of dough with a serving fork, handing it to the princess.

Rowan grinned and placed several coins on the table in return.

While it went against everything in my upbringing to have my future wife funding most of our purchases today, she had made it clear that the people would expect their royals to support them directly.

If I was sure to spend at least as much as she did today, it was only because it was important that their newprincesupport them as well. I paused internally before the foreign title, though it wasn’t much different in practice to being the duke’s heir in Socair.

“Thank you both,” Rowan told the couple, turning to me with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Van Van, you must try this.”

I blinked, fighting off a small smirk. Surely, she wasn’t serious, but she also knew I wouldn’t tell her no in front of the people we were trying so hard to win over.

Maybe I wouldn’t have anyway, when she held out a piece of what was sure to be a horrifyingly sweet confection directly against my mouth.

“Van Van?” I pressed, my lips brushing along her fingers.

She shrugged, and I reluctantly opened my mouth for her latest form of torture. She slid her thumb along my lower lip before retracting her hand, which was…also torture, but not in the way I had prepared myself for.

I hummed in the back of my throat, letting her see a small bit of the effect she had on me.

“Delicious,” I murmured, low enough that she knew perfectly well I wasn’t talking about the sugar-coated pastry.

“It was a pleasure to meet you both,” I said in a louder voice to the couple who was now looking at us with markedly more open expressions.

“Ach, nae, laddie,” the woman said. “The pleasure was ours.”

Fortunately, a week with the soldiers had allowed me to accustom myself to the unfamiliar dialect, so I had a reasonably easy time deciphering the villagers’ words.