Page 96 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

“We could, but there hardly seems a point since we can’t take it out of the Socairan vows.”

“Perhaps you don’t see the point in my refusal to be subjugated in two kingdoms rather than one, but I have rather different feelings on the matter. If you’re so attached to the word, however, do feel free to transfer it to your own portion of the vows.”

Der’mo.

I mentally calculated the chances that we would get through our Socairan wedding without her offending every duke in attendance, counting in my head for patience.

“It‘s hardly subjugation, Lemmikki, when storms know that you would actually rather set yourself on fire than do anything anyone told you to.”

Her father let out a small snort at that before he scowled at himself, then me, in turn.

“And I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” I added, responding to her ever so helpful suggestion.

“Suit yourself.” She shot me a saccharine smile to accompany her shrug. “As long as it’s taken out of mine.”

Several sets of eyes turned to me, and I sighed, deducing quickly that there was neither a point nor a reason to argue with her on it. It didn’t matter what she vowed, she wasn’t exactly the obedient type, regardless.

All I actually needed was for her to make some small pretense of it in Socair, and since the only Socairans in attendance were men I trusted, that wasn’t an issue here.

I dipped my chin in assent, and she settled back into her chair smugly.

“As discussed, Lord Evander will adopt the title of Prince in our kingdom, while Princess Rowan will be referred to as Lady in his,” Oliver read out from the next section of the agreement.

That had been a more difficult hurdle to overcome than I would have anticipated. While Rowan didn’t especially care, her family was offended at the notion that my people would deny her rightful title. I had to explain several times, in various levels of detail, how the people would respect her more as a Clan Wife of their own kingdom than a princess of their enemy’s. The title would remind them who she was to them.

Though they had reluctantly included the language, even now, several sets of shoulders tensed.

I nodded again, more tersely this time, and Rowan followed suit.

Once all of the nuances were read through, Oliver read out the final versions of the vows and announcements, and we both agreed. In spite of the small pockets of dissension, we had managed to finish up early.

Which was just as well since the relatively short morning had been frustrating enough to make me itch for the sparring ring, despite spending an hour there training with my men at sunrise.

But the arena would apparently have to wait.

I was just pushing my chair back when the queen spoke up.

“I thought we could spend some time together this afternoon.” Her tone was full of false cheer as she looked pointedly at her husband, then at me. “Allof us.”

Rowan went still in her seat, but there was no graceful way for me to refuse the offer, so I nodded without hesitation. The king let out a sigh before following suit, and they led us back to the family wing.

Their suites were in the corner of the castle, wide open windows on two sides of the vast sitting room. Green and purple ivy spilled from pots that dangled from the ceiling, while brightly colored plants decorated the tabletops.

There was more of the same style artwork here that adorned the walls of the family hall, including a single portrait of an infant wrapped in pale blue furs, the canvas surrounded by a wreath made of white and yellow flowers woven into bright greenery.

I wondered if the wreath was replaced daily, since not a single flower wilted on it, nor the one directly next to it.

The second wreath had been crafted with deep blue flowers, interspersed with larger white blooms. It encircled a canvas ofa man close to my age with wavy chestnut hair and eyes a shade darker. Mac. Though I had seen him in other portraits, none were painted with quite the care of this one. He had the kind of face that exuded happiness, something in his wide smile reminding me of Kirill.

Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising, after all, that the king balked at my presence, when I bore so little resemblance to the son-in-law he was accustomed to, and had obviously approved of.

Avani sat with her back to the wreaths, her perusal of the room halting before her eyes could land on them. Rowan and King Logan likewise avoided them, but Queen Charlotte trailed her hand over the flowers as she passed like it was a ritual for her.

“I was thinking we could play Dominion,” she announced, pulling out an unfamiliar game set.

“Because nothing eases familial tension quite like destroying one another’s pretend armies,” Rowan muttered under her breath—not quietly enough, if the queen’s glare was anything to go by.

She launched into an accounting of the rules, which were simple enough. It was similar to the strategy exercises I had been trained on, though I had never considered engaging in one for amusement.