Page 79 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

Though it was still strange when I caught snippets of the king conversing with his people in the same thick brogue. It was impossible to imagine any of the dukes walking amongst the villagers, competing in games alongside them and asking after their children. Even Arès would have died on the hill of respectable boundaries. And Korhonan? He would have died from shock at the sight.

We spent the next several hours walking amongst the booths, talking with the villagers while Rowan stood closer and closer to me. Her earlier reluctance to take my arm had vanished in the wake of the obvious joy she derived from eliciting a reaction out of me.

It was something I had no problem returning in kind, even as I reminded myself throughout the day that the kilt was a less forgiving garment than my usual soldier’s attire. And far less concealing.

Still, it was worth the monumental efforts in self-control to watch her flush as I trailed my fingers along her neck while I straightened the ribbons of the flower crown she had procured, or to trace the goosebumps along her flesh when I leaned in close to tell her something.

Davin made several appearances, always with a congenial smile and a slap on the back that I was happy to reciprocate. Harder.

He wasn’t the only one that occasionally found a reason to join us. Every member of Rowan’s family eventually approached us to show their support. All but the king.

I might have thought she didn’t notice, were it not for the way her eyes slid to his massive form throughout the day, always pinching with a trace of hurt when he angled himself away from us.

“I’ve never seen daggers like these.” I drew her attention to the table of single-edged blades at a nearby booth.

They were the same basic shape as the small utility knife Davin had insisted on putting into one of my socks as part of my ceremonial garb, though these were much larger.

After getting permission to pick one up, I balanced the weapon in my hand, comparing it to the litany of others I was used to. The blade was heavier than the average dagger, potentially making it more lethal in hand-to-hand combat.

More often than not, I didn’t use daggers. They were too small, with too much of a limited reach. But this weapon would be harder for an enemy to block and weighty enough to deliver a much more powerful blow.

While I considered how I might adapt my fighting style to incorporate their use, I continued to watch Rowan through my periphery.

After a moment, she swallowed, looking forcibly away from her father to focus on the blades.

“They’re dirks.” She plucked the weapon from my hand, gripping the smooth wooden hilt in her delicate fingers. “They’re excellent for close combat when you want your strikes to be more effective. You always angle up, then you can twist, for good measure.”

She flourished the blade as if to punctuate each of her words.

I glanced down at my tiny betrothed, wearing her brightly colored flower crown while she casually talked about the bestway to eviscerate a man. I would have been lying if I had said it didn’t make me want her even more.

This was the girl from the Summit, the one who had a bare-chested dagger hidden on her person at all times. Not empty giggles and blithe smiles.

My feral little lemmikki.

“And you call my people savage,” I commented, my mind wandering idly to where that dagger was now, and how much fun I might have locating it.

Storms.

All the games she played were working better than she realized they were, not that I would give up ground to tell her that now.

She shrugged, peering up at me with deceptively wide eyes. “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

Satisfaction thrummed through me. For all that I wanted her, it was more than that. This kind of viciousness would keep her safe. It would keep her alive.

And it was the reason she didn’t falter when I displayed my own.

She carefully weighed a few more of the dirks before landing on one with a studded black leather hilt and a serrated blade.

“This one,” she said, handing the weapon to me.

Sure enough, it wasn’t just the aesthetic that was pleasing, but the balance and weight were perfect as well.

“As my future wife commands,” I said to the vendor, a slim man who had been watching us in silence.

She let out an inelegant snort as he took the blade from me to wrap up.

“We both know you always do precisely as you please,” she muttered under her breath.