You would think having to survive on Socairan vodka and little else for days in the tunnel would have made me sick of it, but I enjoyed the smooth taste as much as ever.
I especially appreciated the way it made this freezing smuggler’s hole just a little less cold and how it numbed my sore body. I had never bruised easily, and any cuts I received had always healed relatively quickly. Rubbing my hands over my cold and aching arms, I could only hope that would be the case this time, too.
Judging by the pressure along my spine, the storm wouldn’t let up any time soon. It would be at least a few hours before we could even risk the short trek to Iiro and Inessa in the farmhouse.
I took another swig, passing the bottle back to Theo. After polishing off a decent portion of the vodka, his expression was less guarded than usual. He looked at me with something like bewilderment. Maybe even wonder, though it was still edged with his usual exasperation.
“You are like no woman I have ever met.” He tipped the bottle up, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his lips pressed against the glass, and how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he took a swallow.
Suddenly, my own mouth was dry. I reached out my hand for the bottle, my fingers brushing against his when he passed it to me.
“Or perhaps you have met many women like me. Only you aren’t aware of them because you never let them speak.” I raised my eyebrows in a challenge before taking another sip, smaller this time, since I didn’t want it going to my head.
He shook his head. “Our women do speak. We just believe that women are to be protected and cherished, given the freedom to live their lives without having to worry about war and politics.”
“Freedom isn’t giving someone a small chunk of life and expecting them to be content with it,” I said softly.
He looked thoughtful at that, then gave me a reluctant smile. “Regardless, I feel confident not one of them is like you.”
“That’s probably fair.” I smirked. It was hard to imagine a proper Socairan woman drinking vodka from the bottle.
Then again, it isn’t exactly appropriate behavior for a Lochlannian princess either.
“Is everyone in your family like you? Or are you and Laird Davin…” he smirked on his pronunciation of the word, then paused like he wasn’t sure how to finish his question.
“The collective disgrace of the family?” I supplied for him.
He shrugged, nodding.
“I suppose it’s a combination of the two.” I found myself telling him, then, about my sisters and my cousins, stories of growing up at each other’s castles. How I was closer to Avani since we were just over a year apart, but I still adored my younger siblings.
When I got to my parents, his features turned wistful.
“What about you?” I asked. “Has it always been just you and your brother?”
“Not always,” he said. “But for as long as I can remember. A plague took my parents when I was just four years old. Iiro was only sixteen, a new duke with a floundering clan to run. He could have passed me off to a governess, but he insisted on raising me himself. He taught me everything, took me everywhere.” Respect shone from his tone, and a deep affection I recognized well.
It raised Iiro several degrees in my eyes. He had his faults, but some of his behavior was more understandable, knowing how difficult it must have been to command authority at such a young age.
“So you’re more like a son to him?”
“In some ways,” he allowed. “Especially since he can’t—never mind.”
I shot him a curious look, but he only shook his head.
Silence fell, somewhat awkwardly, and I grasped around for something to say. His words from earlier came back to me, and I realized with a wave of remorse that I never even asked him about his men.
“I’m sorry about your guard,” I said softly. “Was he a friend of yours?”
“Bogdan was a good man, an excellent soldier, and a loyal servant. He will be missed.” His tone was controlled, matter-of-fact, even, but his jaw was clenched.
Then he turned to look at me, and it suddenly struck me how close we were. His face was only inches from mine, close enough for his breath to touch my cheek when he spoke.
“But it was wrong of me to blame you.” He continued on. “The weather here has taken many lives, as suddenly as it can turn. And that, that is not your fault.”
So soft, it was almost a whisper, he added, “But how did you know?”
I wished I didn’t have to lie to him, that I could give him a truth as he had given me, but more than my own wellbeing was at stake if I revealed my family’s biggest secret.
“I told you, I’ve always been fascinated by weather for some reason,” I hedged. “You know when something just catches your attention and you can’t explain it?”
He held my gaze for an interminable moment. “Yes. I know that feeling quite well.” Then he shook his head and scooted away from me. “So your extensive princess education included weather classes. What else?”
In spite of the more formal tone that he donned, he looked genuinely interested. So I went on to tell him about how boring most of my education was, enjoying the scandal that crossed his face when I mentioned training with the soldiers every morning.
“And your father allowed that?” he asked, green eyes wide.
“Who do you think was doing the training?”
He actually chuckled at that, though it was tinged with disbelief. Then he told me about Iiro teaching him to use a sword, talking more than he had before. It was a far cry from the single sentences he usually bit out.
At some point, the noises of the storm faded into the background. It was easy to forget there was a world outside of this tiny space at all. There were no enemy kingdoms, no impending Summit, no devastating winds.
Just Theo and me.
I didn’t hate that nearly as much as I should have.
