Page 82 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

“Every year…” Rowan muttered, shaking her head as Finn held his fists up in a victory pose.

His daughter glared up at him until her brother approached, offering her a hand and a small amount of pity.

“Come on, Twinsy,” he said, hoisting her back to her feet. “Eventually he’ll get really old and then you’ll get that victory you’ve always longed for.”

In the mud pit nearby, a team of men was sliding into place a series of beams, hoops, and ropes. Rowan studied their movements, nodding to herself. I wasn’t surprised when she turned to me expectantly.

“It’s our turn.”

I surveyed the makeshift obstacle course. It wasn’t dissimilar to a training course for our new recruits, except that we would apparently be working as a team.

In the mud.

Perhaps I had been too cavalier in my earlier acceptance of the game she had chosen for us.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that she would be as difficult as possible. Hadn’t she been taunting me all day?

I shot her a quizzical look.

“It’s technically called the wife-carrying competition, but you don’t actually have to be married to compete. Avani and Mac…” she trailed off, a shadow passing over her eyes.

Again, I saw the single line written in elegant script.Private family memorial for Arran Colin MacKinnon.

I gently squeezed her waist, pulling her from wherever her mind had taken her.

She cleared her throat. “They competed two years ago. Before they were married, and some of the betrothed in the village do as well.”

If anything, that only increased my suspicion, since it seemed unlikely that it was as simple as getting through the course if the couples competed together.

“So, what does this game entail?” I questioned, since she apparently wasn’t planning on clarifying the details of her own accord.

“All you have to do is carry me through that obstacle course,” she said simply. “And we have to be the first across the finish line.”

After all her teasing today, this should have come as no surprise, but I had to wonder exactly how I was supposed to carry her through the course.

“You chose this because you thought we would win?” I pressed, not bothering to keep a bit of disbelief from my tone.

We would have won a great many events, but only this and the three-legged race would have put us at such close proximity. Since we were uniquely unsuited for the latter, given the foot of difference in our heights, it stood to reason that she had chosen this game.

But only if one first accounted for the proximity.

“And because I thought it would go the furthest with the people,” she insisted. “If you aren’t going to do anything about your restingaalioface, then you leave me no choice but to find other ways to make you more approachable.”

I had witnessed no fewer than ten games that would have forced approachability on me. But only one where I would have to carry my future wife.

If I was wearing my aalio face, then she was wearing her obstinate face, so I didn’t push the issue further. At least, not much further.

“If you say so,” I murmured.

She lifted her chin, but I was saved from her indignation by the arrival of Jocelyn and Oliver at the very last event where I would have expected to see them.

“Oli, you didn’t,” Jocelyn exclaimed, looking at the muddy trail with thinly veiled horror.

Her husband shrugged, his lips pulling into a wicked grin the exact twin to the one Davin donned when he was about to say something obnoxious.

“You said to sign us up for an event, and I obliged.”

A dignified huff of air escaped Jocelyn. “You knew I didn’t mean this one,” she muttered in resignation.