“So, Lord Theo, what does keeping an eye on us entail?” I asked once breakfast was finally over, and Iiro and Inessa had left the room.
He pursed his full lips, but had stopped trying to get me to stop using the name after the seventh time I declined.
“I thought we could do something fun, but it would appear you are already enjoying yourself too much.”
“Fun? I wasn’t aware that Socairans knew the meaning of the word,” I responded dryly.
“It might not be as enjoyable as annoying me or smuggling vodka, but then again, what is?”
A laugh escaped me. Perhaps he possessed a sense of humor, after all.
“Quite right, My Lord,” Davin chimed in with his most pompous voice.
If Theo realized my cousin was mocking him, he didn’t comment.
He reluctantly led us out of the breakfast room to an outdoor courtyard. As uncomfortable and stiff as the dresses here could be, they did at least offer protection from the wind.
The temperature was mild, but every once in a while, a gust of icy wind would roll off the mountain. My dress was completely unfazed, standing as rigid as a stone wall while it blocked even the most determined of breezes.
About a third of the way down the vast courtyard were sets of small cylinders arranged in different patterns. It was unusual decor, but then, not much about the Socairans felt familiar.
Theo followed my gaze, taking note of my confused expression, and the corner of his lips tilted up.
“It’s for the game, Gorodki.” He picked up a wooden stick, gesturing toward the cylinders. “Those pins are the cities, and the goal is to banish them, like this,”
He threw the stick, taking out two of the structures, sending the pins scattering in different directions. Several servants scuttled over to stand them up again.
He handed Davin another stick, and my cousin stepped up to take his turn.
“Why am I not surprised that your idea of fun involves destroying a small town?” I commented.
Theo actually laughed, a deep and rich sound that made warmth flood through my chest, before he thought better of it and abruptly stopped.
“Are you and your cousin promised?” He looked like he wanted to take the words back as soon as he said them, and I wondered if he was only upset to have caught himself being conversational.
I nearly laughed out loud at his question, though.
Davin would only settle down when he was absolutely forced to, and I— catching Theodore’s expression, I realized I had misinterpreted what he was asking.
“To each other?” I couldn’t keep the disgust from my tone.
The assumption shouldn’t have caught me off guard. It was common enough for cousins to marry most places. It had been in Lochlann, too, until a few years ago, but we had abandoned that tradition. Thankfully.
Davin was almost too attractive for his own good, with his black hair and bright blue eyes, but that would be like marrying my brother.
Theo nodded even more stiffly than usual. Maybe cousins didn’t marry here, either, and that’s why he looked so uncomfortable about it.
“No,” I answered quickly. “No, not—no. Just no.”
His shoulders seemed to relax a little.
“Neither of us is promised to anyone.” I wasn’t sure why I offered that last bit of information.
“I suppose your family doesn’t have a good history with betrothals.” The twitch of Theo’s lips was the only sign that he might be joking rather than outright insulting.
Then the sound of Davin’s stick clanging against the side of the castle pulled Theo’s attention away from me and, fortunately, this conversation. Shaking his head, he walked over to help my cousin, leaving me with my thoughts.
He hadn’t been wrong. My family didn’t have a good history with betrothals. That had been one of the last things my mother and I argued about.
“Don’t you know what I would have given for choices at your age, what heartache and bloodshed might have been avoided if your father and I had been given any?”
When I didn’t respond, my mother huffed out a breath. “If you don’t choose someone, the council will choose for you.”
“Then let them. Honestly, Mother, as long as he’s not too old, what difference does it make?”
She ran a frustrated hand through her deep brown waves, spring-green eyes widening in disbelief. “What difference does it make?” she repeated. “We wanted to give you a chance at love, or at least the potential for it.”
“What, so I could end up like Avani?” I had barely left my sister’s side in weeks, but when I did, the sound of her sobs followed me down the hallway, echoing off the walls.
“Rowan…” My mother’s features softened, and somehow her sympathy was worse than aggravation. It needled at a part of myself I didn’t want to examine any more.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, getting to my feet. “Just choose someone who benefits the kingdom. One person starting a war for marriage is more than enough for this family.”
A few days later, I had left for my ill-fated visit to Hagail, and now all I could see was my mother’s stricken face as I walked away. It hadn’t been fair of me, when there were so many reasons around that war and most of them had nothing to do with something so simple as marriage.
Still, I loved my parents together, but I didn’t want the kind of love you went to war for.
I didn’t want the kind of love that could break you.
