The strain in the room with Theo last night was nothing compared to what awaited me in the Summit tent.
No one argued. No one even respectfully debated.
No one spoke at all.
Not Mikhail, whose face was smug, or Nils from Wolf, who was grimly satisfied. Evander drummed his fingers in a bored pattern, but didn’t open his mouth.
Even Sir Arès, who looked at me with sympathy, kept his lips clamped firmly shut. It was their silent protest. Their way of showing me that they would sit here until the eighth day as they were honor-bound to do, but their decision had been made.
Dread pooled in my stomach, but I kept my features in a semblance of calm neutrality. There was nothing I could do or say to change their minds now.
Even Iiro must have known, because he didn’t try to speak or sway them. I couldn’t entirely blame him for not wanting to throw his lot in with mine now that I knew how important these alliances were.
An hour stretched into two, then three.
I reflected again on the unforgiving Socairan mentality, the way they seemed to believe the punishment for everything was death. Smuggling. Disobedience. A single outburst.
It was hard to believe this had all started with a few bottles of vodka. And now I was here, walking a tenuous tightrope between marriage and death.
There really was only one thing to do.
I turned to Theo, forcing a bit of lightheartedness into my features.
This was a good thing. For all the stupid things I had done, I would finally make a good decision. Marriage into Socair would help build a bridge between our kingdoms. There could be peace.
And Theo would make an amazing husband, protective and kind and gorgeous. We could get through life in Socair, together. Whatever their other faults, obviously Clan Bear had gotten over their Lochlann Clan Wife.
Elk would, too, in time.
More than all of that, I loved Theo. And he loved me. The fact was that the damage was done. Walking away from him now would kill me just as much as if something happened down the line. It was too late to turn back, so it was time to go all in.
With that thought, my smile came more genuinely. When he caught my gaze and subtle nod, he crept over to crouch next to me.
I leaned over and whispered as quietly as I could. “I accept, on one condition.”
“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, wariness battling happiness in his expression.
“That I never have to eat borscht again.”
The corner of his lips tilted up in a wry smile. “I think that can be arranged.”
Then he broke out into a smile in truth, one that made my heart feel lighter in my chest. It was hard to remember why I had hesitated on this before when it seemed so simple now.
Theo shot Iiro a meaningful look, and Iiro’s shoulders sagged in what might have been relief. I was a little surprised he cared so much, though maybe that was more about saving face.
Iiro got to his feet. The dukes murmured a bit, looking at him with furrowed brows. Evander sat up straighter in his seat, suspicion and what might have been panic edging out the indifference in his features.
A lifetime seemed to pass before Iiro cleared his throat to speak. A hush fell once more, the room thrumming with the anticipation of his next words.
But the voice that rang out did not belong to Iiro.
It belonged to Evander, who was hastily getting to his feet as he spoke in a deceptively bland tone. “I claim my family’s blood debt against the Pendragon family.”
