Page 87 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
“Any black dress?” Her words were razor sharp and made of solid ice.
I tilted my head, wondering what or who had attracted her ire…and what her dress had to do with any of it.
“Anything you want,” I said quietly, hoping she heard what I didn’t say.
Anything within my power to grant you is yours, Lemmikki.
Her eyes glowed with wrath as she took the charcoal stick in hand, brow furrowed in concentration as she sketched out whatever idea had entered her mind.
“That’s the gown I want,” she proclaimed, tapping it for emphasis.
The dressmaker looked askance at the queen, and I wondered what precisely I had just agreed to. But Queen Charlotte only assessed her daughter for a single heartbeat before nodding in pride.
“I think it will be perfect,” she said.
There was a gleam in her eye that gave me pause, along with Jocelyn’s inscrutable expression, but I pushed the doubt out of my mind.
Storms knew if I was dragging Rowan back to the woman who publicly flogged her and the man who strung her grandparents up on their own castle wall, she could damned well wear any dress she pleased.
We had a few more planning meetings before we were released to prepare for dinner. Instead of returning to my rooms, I headed to the palace armory.
On Jocelyn’s extensive schedule was a note that I needed to bring a ring for Rowan the night before the wedding.
Though I wouldn’t normally have gone to a weapon-maker for a ring, Davin had assured me that Rayan was the only option worth considering. While Davin was, generally speaking, prone to bouts of obnoxiousness, he hadn’t yet steered me astray.
The man behind the counter had dark skin, contrasting with his white, even teeth when he smiled at me. It wasn’t the politesmile shopkeepers give their customers. There was an edge behind it, something equal parts anticipatory and knowing.
“Master Rayan?” I asked.
“Lord Evander,” he greeted, giving me a familiar nod like we knew each other. “What can I do for you?”
The pale blue eyes that bored into mine could have almost been Socairan, but his accent was wholly Lochlannian.
“I need to order a ring for the princess, along with a box, to be presented the night before our wedding,” I answered.
I was fairly confident that he would be willing to prioritize his own princess’s ring, but his features gave nothing away.
“With what specifications?” he asked as though he were asking about the making of a blade.
There was a weight to his gaze, like he was determining whether I was worthy of ordering the ring at all. Though I knew less about women’s jewelry than I did their clothing, I did know something about Rowan.
Enough, anyway.
“Something simple, with clean lines,” I told him. “Black stone and diamond.”
If she was staying here, she could damned well wear a reminder of the clan she married into. And if she chose to live in Socair, well, it would match everything she wore.
Besides, black felt right for her.
Rayan nodded, though there was a note of dismissiveness in the gesture. I mentally reviewed what I had told him, considering my future wife.
Gorgeous. Royal. Endlessly ridiculous when she wanted to be. But I also saw the hilt of a sword in her hand, heard a dagger sliding from its sheath, the low, deadly tone she had used when she asked me if any dress would do.
“And it should look…lethal,” I added.
Rayan’s smile returned in full force, and he nodded in approval. “Consider it done, Your Majesty.”
“Just lord,” I reminded him, pushing a bag of coins across the counter.