Chapter 31

a change in the air

Although her fingers were starting to get pruney, Annika had no intention of abandoning her luxurious bubble bath anytime soon. Even with the blessing of running water in the house, her sister-in-law had brought in bucket after bucket of boiling water to pre-heat the cold porcelain tub. Or at least, Asbjorn had brought in bucket after bucket. Whether or not he’d actually volunteered for the job was another matter altogether, but it was the last thing on Annika’s mind. In fact, there was almost nothing on her mind at all. And it felt divine.

The scent of melting beeswax candles intermingled with the rose oil bath salts perfuming the water, and the soft patter of raindrops against the window lulled her into the most tranquil state of relaxation. She’d nodded off more than once, and each time she’d opened her eyes to find no change in the number of puffy, iridescent bubbles. The tub itself was built to accommodate full-grown elves, which made it nearly seven feet long and almost three feet wide. It felt heavenly to be swallowed up by all that warmth and weightlessness like she was a heavenly body floating through space…perhaps even the elusive moon Vega.

“You poor, poor thing,” Anthea fussed as she quietly slipped into the bathroom. The abrupt sound of wooden chair legs scraping against the stone floor made Annika cringe until her sister-in-law appeared from around the other side of the privacy screen. The reason for dragging the chair became obvious when Annika saw her holding a teacup in her other hand. Anthea’s dark eyebrows furrowed when she looked up at Annika’s face. “Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry about that,” she apologized, then scooted closer to the tub before sitting down. “I’m sure the delayed onset of your cycle is bad enough as it is. I can only imagine how it must feel to be starting it whilst in the midst of a nasty pixie flu.”

“Is that elf slang for a hangover?” Annika squeaked with a grimace.

“If you mean a hangover to be the physical consequences of a previous night’s overindulgence, then yes,” Anthea confirmed.

“Yep. That’s what I’ve got.”

Anthea shifted in her seat and handed over the cup, then adjusted the fold of the blue sari draped over her shoulder.

“Hopefully the hot bath is helping to alleviate your cramps.”

“Yeah, actually it’s helping a lot.” Annika sat up as she reached out for the cup. “It’s my head that’s killing me. This is the worst pixie flu I’ve had in a while.”

“That’s what the coffee is for,” Anthea said with a sympathetic look. “I usually add some brandy for the pain, but I don’t think alcohol will improve your situation since it waters down the blood. The vampire venom thinned yours enough as it is. Why, I had to use an entire bottle of Blood Banisher when I put your sheets in the soaking tub.”

“Oh my god!” Annika hissed in embarrassment. “You didn’t have to do that! I’ll wash my own sheets.”

“Nonsense. Between my own cycles and giving birth twice, I’ve soiled plenty of them myself,” she said in a kind, gentle voice. Her practical words didn’t stop Annika’s cheeks from turning bright red. Instead of responding, she brought the cup to her lips and took one sip after another. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. That humility you’re feeling right now is a product of your primitive culture.”

“You think my culture’s primitive? That’s funny, coming from someone who lives in a house with no electricity,” Annika blurted out. Instead of making Anthea mad, it made her laugh.

“Well now, I can’t argue with you on that,” she snickered. She hummed softly and pulled out the wooden pins that had been holding her hair in place. Long waves of deep, rich brown fell down her shoulders as she combed her fingers through them, and without the subtle points of her ears showing it made her look like the older, wiser sister that Annika never had…but often wished for.

“I only meant your culture is primitive in that most modern humans fear the sight of blood, even if it’s completely natural and expected,” she added. “I’ve seen time and time again how that fear has been used to keep women quiet and submissive. And the worst thing is that you can’t blame it all on men, because women are just as guilty of belittling one another and dragging one another down.”

“I don’t think that problem’s unique to modern people,” Annika said in between sips of coffee. “You weren’t there at the Tortoise and the Hare the night I met your cousin Sevan.”

“You remember that?” exclaimed the elf. “Why, that’s wonderful!” Annika wrinkled her nose in disdain.

“It wasn’t wonderful. Sevan’s a bitch. I wanted to punch her in the face.”

Anthea laughed in delight and nodded her head.

“She does have that effect on others,” she agreed, still smiling wide. “But what is wonderful is the fact that you remember meeting her in the first place. How’s the coffee, by the way? I couldn’t remember how you liked it other than sweet.”

“It’s perfect,” she said after gulping down the last of it. A curious expression entered her blue eyes and she lifted her nose to the air. “Do I smell chocolate?”

“Yes,” Anthea grinned. “Now that the rain’s come, it’s finally cooled down enough to fire up the oven. I’m spending the entire day in the kitchen, and the first thing I made was a double batch of brownies. I’ve already set aside an entire plate just for you.”

“Thanks, but it might be a while before I feel like eating any of them,” Annika sighed.

“You might change your mind after you taste one. Eating will help flush the remainder of the alssibar extract from your system.” Anthea shook her head in disapproval and glanced out the window. The tree branches on the other side were still drooping and swaying with the weight of the rain. “When Talvi hears that Milena gave you enough to make you this ill, he’s going to have some choice words with her.”

“When is he going to be back?”

“Soon.”

The corners of Annika’s mouth pinched into a little frown.

“You keep saying that, and he keeps not showing up,” she noted. “It’s been weeks now, and all I’ve heard is that he’s busy with work.”

“His work is not very forgiving of his personal life. There was one time that I sent him to buy ingredients for Stella’s birthday cake, and he didn’t come home for five months,” Anthea said with a wry grin. “The government sent us a letter of apology, and even though it wasn’t his fault, I was still cross with him.”

“Does that happen a lot with his job?”

“No, but it’s not uncommon,” Anthea said, trying to be fair.

“I don’t even know what his job is,” said Annika as she handed back the empty coffee cup. Her sister-in-law gave her a sympathetic shrug.

“None of us truly know what he does, so don’t feel too bad about it. I know enough to understand that it’s better this way.”

“I’m remembering more things every day, but even now when I think of Talvi, all I see is darkness. I really thought that the pictures would’ve helped a lot more.”

“Yes…Finn told me what happened when you saw his photograph.” She stood up and took back the cup, leaving the chair in place much to Annika’s relief. “I nearly forgot…the other reason that I came by to check on you is because I doubt you’ll want to lie in the tub for the rest of the week. I don’t know how you deal with your cycle back home, so I thought I’d give you some options.” She nodded towards the cabinets and cupboards along the wall.

“If you look through the bottom left cabinet, you’ll find cloths and sea sponges, and a modern contraption that Asbjorn brought home for me on one of his last trips.” She walked over to the cabinet and knelt down, then came back with a small box in her hand and a perplexed look on her face. “The concept seems very practical, and he swears that it’s safe to use internally. Unfortunately I never had the chance to try it because…” This time it was her turn to blush, and her brown eyes sparkled with a level of impishness that was rare for her. “I never had the chance to try it because I became pregnant very soon after my dear husband returned home.” She grinned wistfully before winking at Annika. “You might as well see if you like it, and if you do, I’ll have him buy me another one later on. Everyone I mention it to has nothing but good things to say. You can even wear it whilst you sleep. Apparently they’re becoming all the rage with the younger ladies in the village.”

Annika raised a skeptical eyebrow at the picture of the menstrual cup printed on the outside of the sealed box. Faint memories surfaced of having ‘the talk’ with her mother before leaving for summer camp in fifth grade. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so awkward if Anthea had been the one doing the talking.

“All the rage, huh?” She glanced at the box and shrugged. “Well…I’ll try anything once.”

With her clean hair twisted into a bun, Annika stepped out of the bathroom and followed her nose to the kitchen. The scent of cinnamon filled the air, along with undertones of chocolate and herbal tea. There was a plate of brownies sitting on the island counter just as promised, and Stella was licking frosting from a wooden spoon while Anthea was pulling what looked like cinnamon rolls out of the wood-fired oven. She set the pan next to a copper kettle on top of the stove, then put another one in its place. Everything seemed cheerful and cozy except for the chilly draft coming from the back door which led to the stables. It was flung wide open, and neither Anthea nor Stella seemed to care that the wind was blowing rain all over the tiles, or that large muddy footprints had been tracked across the floor and into the cellar. Annika rushed over to shut it when Anthea quickly spoke up.

“I’d leave that alone, if I were you.” She closed the oven and wound the dial of a small timer, then gave a halfhearted grin. “Unless you wish to be the straw that breaks my father’s back, then go right ahead. But we’re staying well out of the way.”

“Papa’s very grumpy,” Stella informed her as she inched away from the door. “So is Daddy. He said a naughty word, but Papa said three!”

“Yes he did, and you don’t need to tell Annika what those words are because she already knows them,” Anthea reminded her daughter, and reached for another mixing bowl. Annika let go of the handle of the door and slowly backed away from it, being careful not to let her bare feet step in the puddles of mud and rain.

“What’s going on out there?”

“Father arrived home with an entire wagon full of wine, and he’s not too pleased about the unexpected weather.”

The sound of footsteps came stomping up the cellar stairs, and then Asbjorn appeared in the doorway.

“I don’t know where he thinks we’re going to put it all,” he said with a dazed expression. He tucked his blonde curls behind his pointed ear just as Finn stepped in from the rain and handed him a wooden crate. The glass bottles rattled against one other while Asbjorn headed back down into the cellar. Instead of returning to the wagon for another case of wine, Finn lingered on the threshold. His eyes remained lowered as if he was so focused on studying Annika’s little feet that he was oblivious to the wind beating against him or the pools of water his boots and clothes were leaving all over the floor. His linen shirt and pants were soaked from the heavy downpour as if he’d jumped off a boat and climbed back on deck. The fabric clung fast to his body, making him appear slimmer than he really was. The slightly slouched posture he held not only made him look shorter, but also defeated. His dark curls were so weighed down with water that his hair now appeared to be jet black and straight as an arrow. Droplets of rain trickled down his damp eyelashes and nose and crept down his neck. Looking into her eyes, he finally opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out of them. The sense of suffering and longing in his doleful eyes had never felt stronger than it did in that moment, and Annika knew that she’d seen that look before.

He said you never came to him, and that’s what broke his heart the most, said a breathy female voice inside her head. He waited and waited for you to come to him, but you never did! He thinks you’d rather be with someone else. That’s why he rescued him from the sirens that day on the ship. He said if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have risked diving in after him. Annika felt the silver ring on her left hand warming up her palm, then her forearm, then up through her shoulder and into her chest. Just like the moon Vega, she felt her heart growing warmer and bigger and brighter from being so near her destined lover. But she also felt it ache to know that her existence was the reason he hurt so much. She wanted nothing more than to reach up and pull that tormented heart closer to her own, and be the answer to all that ailed him. Nothing else would be able to mend the pain. She wanted to know him in every sense, to comfort him and breathe him in. She wanted to hold him and take his delicate pointed ears into her fingers as she brought that mouth to her lips, and…

“Oy! Finn!” Ambrose bellowed from outside. “Get your bloody arse back out here!”

The words shot through the yard and obliterated the façade in front of Annika, and Finn blinked as if he’d just woken from a dream. Pulled by an invisible tether of obligation, he turned on his heel and headed back into the storm without a word. Annika could only hope that no one else had seen or sensed her jumbled, conflicting thoughts. Her fears were dispelled when Stella giggled at what had to be a slew of profanities that were now pouring out of Ambrose’s mouth.

“Mummy! That makes six naughty words that Papa has said!” she hooted. Before her mother could reprimand her, her eyes lit up again as Runa drifted into the room. The wood nymph’s pale blonde tresses were now sun-bleached so bright that they seemed to glow against her deeply tanned neck and shoulders.

“My goodness…with his hair lying flat like that I nearly mistook Finn for Talvi just now,” she remarked in the same wispy voice Annika had heard only seconds earlier. A pang of familiarity tore through her like a boomerang of Déjà vu, propelling her back through her memories and returning her right into the present moment.

“I thought the exact same thing.” Anthea lifted the cloth covering a few loaves of bread rising on one of the shelves above the stove. She gave a contented nod and set it back down, then leaned against the counter. “I keep expecting him to waltz in at any moment and ask what’s for dinner, just like he always does when he’s been away. We’ve written to him more than once.”

“Hopefully he won’t be much longer. I miss him terribly. I’ve missed all of you!” The wood nymph leapt over to Annika and gave her an abrupt bear hug.

“Runa, you mustn’t!” Runa’s slender arms squeezed and squeezed, but she wasn’t quick to let go. Anthea came rushing over to intervene, but hesitated when she saw Annika’s arms hugging the samodiva back.

“I mustn’t what?” she asked when she finally let go.

“You must take care to be mindful with Annika,” she warned, searching the redhead’s face for any sign of distress. “No more sudden movements, and whatever you do, don’t touch her neck.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“It’s nothing,” Annika dismissed when Runa looked at her in alarm.

“Daddy touched her neck and she stabbed him with a fork,” Stella explained, still licking batter from the wooden spoon in her little hands. Runa’s eyes widened even more. “And she didn’t have to sit in the naughty chair at all!”

“It was an accident,” Annika pleaded, trying to avoid Stella’s little frown of disapproval. While Runa’s jaw dropped in astonishment, Anthea walked over to her daughter and cupped her hands over her tiny elven ears.

“There was an incident with some of Konstantin’s soldiers,” she quietly explained. “And this clever little beast tricked her gullible father into kissing Annika’s neck better. I could hardly feel sorry for the price he paid, what with traumatizing her all over again. It was only natural that she would react by defending herself.”

“I’ve experienced those self-defense tactics first-hand,” said Runa, looking at Annika in a different light. Her brown eyes were more cautious than they’d been seconds earlier. “And Asbjorn’s unharmed?”

Annika would have felt worse if it weren’t for the grin on Anthea’s face.

“The only thing wounded that day was his pride.” She let go of her daughter and turned to flip through the stained recipe book. “Now what shall I make next? We’ve had a letter saying that Hilda and Nikola will be paying us a visit within the next day or so.”

“Truly? You’re not teasing me, are you?” Runa sighed with a hopeful smile. Anthea gestured to a few envelopes sitting on the windowsill, one of which was opened, and Runa hurried over to read it.

“I’m quite serious,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “The timing of your arrival couldn’t have been more perfect. I wanted to have something special waiting for them when they arrive. I imagine that living off the land leaves one desperate for something decadent and rare. I was thinking of making a blueberry and shortbread pudding. That ought to keep in the icebox for at least a couple of days.”

“I don’t want shortbread pudding. I want spice cake,” Stella piped up. “And chocolate biscuits.”

“All in good time, dear, but I want to make the pudding first.”

“But Mummy, you promised!” she wailed with the saddest frown Annika had ever seen a little girl make.

“What if I made the spice cake while your mom makes the pudding?” she offered, hoping for a chance to redeem herself in light of the accidental stabbing of her father. “Maybe you could help me make it?” Stella’s frown softened, but she wasn’t entirely won over by the proposition.

“And I could make your chocolate biscuits,” Runa added while her eyes skimmed over the letter in her hands. “I know the recipe by heart.”

While Stella helped Annika read the Karsikko recipe for spice cake and Runa snuck bites of brownies in between making her biscuits, the rainy wind continued to blow through the back door as case after case of wine was hauled into the cellar. At one point there was a shout, and then the sound of at least one or two bottles breaking on the ground. When Asbjorn’s voice cried out in response, Stella laughed and held up eight fingers covered in flour.

“Papa said two more naughty words,” she announced with a delighted grin. Annika snickered to herself.

“Does that count the one he said in French?” Now Stella was really impressed with her aunt.

“Which one was that?”

“Ta gueule,” Annika said without thinking.

“What does that mean?”

Annika didn’t have to look at her sister-in-law to see the expression on her face; she could feel it burning up her neck and her ears as she realized her mistake.

“Um…it means…be quiet.”

“When my new little sister is born and she cries all night, that’s what I’m going to tell her—ta gueule!”

Runa laughed so hard that she almost choked on a mouthful of brownie.

“You will not tell her that,” Anthea said with a severe look, and then shook her head hopelessly. “Honestly, Annika; you’re just as bad as Talvi.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Neither does he,” she smirked, but she didn’t seem too bent out of shape over the incident. The back door finally slammed shut as Ambrose came into the kitchen while Finn carried the last case into the cellar. Ambrose was as thoroughly soaked as his son, although his demeanor took an upturn once he discovered the plate of brownies sitting on the island counter. Seeing the pan of cinnamon rolls cooling beside it, he reached for one of them as well.

“Where’s Zaven?” Anthea asked as she poked through a bowl of blueberries and picked off each tiny stem.

“Unhitching and feeding the horses,” her father replied with his mouth full. He sighed in pleasure as his shoulders relaxed, and he took his time chewing the sweet, gooey morsel before speaking again. “I tell you, if I knew how much wine Corbin was going to send back with us, I would’ve brought another team of horses. We got stuck in the mud not once, but twice. If it wasn’t for Zaven, we’d probably still be out in this mess. I can’t believe how much the river’s risen since I left. I know we need the rain, but if it keeps up like this much longer, half the roads are going to be washed out by this time tomorrow.”

“That’s what our letter carrier told me this morning when he dropped off the post,” Anthea replied as she grabbed the mail and set it in front of him. “He said if it ends the drought that the mail service will pick up right where it left off. Apparently they’ve received so many complaints about the interruption that they quit bothering to respond to them.”

Ambrose nodded his head and gave a wry grin.

“Yes, it’s incredible how many idiots there are who don’t realize that horses can’t travel all day without a drop to drink.”

“So very true…and sad,” she agreed. “Things seem to have picked up because you’ve had a letter from Pavlo as well as one from the High Court. And Nikola also wrote to say that he and Hilda will be here in the next day or so. Talvi’s expected as well, although he hasn’t written to say when.”

“Oh? He’s not here with you, Annika?” he asked, and nabbed another warm cinnamon roll.

“No, he’s busy at work,” she said while handing Stella a measuring cup.

“How thoughtful of him to bring you by for a visit.” He toyed with his salt and pepper beard while a twinkle sparkled in his blue and green eyes. “Perhaps you’ll make another one of your banitzas?”

“I could make you one, but I promised somebody that I’d finish making her a spice cake first,” she said with a grin before she winked at Stella.

“Much has happened since you’ve been away,” Anthea said to him with an air of discretion. “Perhaps once you’ve changed out of your wet clothes and gotten more comfortable you can ask Mother to get you caught up on all that’s occurred during your absence. She’s upstairs in the nursery with Sloan.”

A pair of dark grey eyebrows knitted together in the slightest suspicion.

“Why can’t you speak to me now? I’m standing right here.”

Anthea glanced over her shoulder at Annika, and then at her daughter, who was carefully measuring out cups of flour with her aunt’s help. She turned back to her father and gave a wry smile.

“Little pitchers have big ears, and they’ve heard quite enough for today, no thanks to you.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied with a sheepish nod. “I apologize for my loose tongue. I expect that traveling for so long in the rain has made me irritable. There’s nothing quite as needling as having one’s feet trapped in wet socks and boots for days on end.” He ran his fingers through his silver-streaked hair and glanced over the letter from Nikola. He nodded and hummed in approval at the news it brought before setting it aside. Then he reached absentmindedly for the envelope marked with a prominent judicial seal. He tore it open and let out a frustrated groan.

“Of all the luck—it’s a critical summons to give a statement for the court,” he groaned. “I’ve only just arrived home. The last thing I want to do is turn around and go back out in…” His voice trailed off as he continued to read the contents of the letter. “Why…gods be damned. What the bloody—”

“Father, please! Your language!” Anthea hissed before he could say anything else. His eyes glowered bright and intense as he clenched his bearded jaw. The lines in his forehead deepened with increasing distress as he watched Annika help Stella crack a couple eggs into the mixing bowl. He looked at Runa who was busy greasing baking sheets with a little pat of butter, and he listened to Finn and Asbjorn debate about how best to arrange the cases of wine down in the cellar. He turned the envelope over and squinted as he inspected the name on the front. At first glance it appeared to be addressed to A. Marinossian, but it was soon plain to see that the rain had smeared the ink, which originally named F. Marinossian as the original recipient. Still holding his tongue, Ambrose folded up the letter from the High Court of the Ancient Order of Korvaaminens and went upstairs in search of his wife.

A path of damp footprints trailed behind Finn as he climbed up the last stairs before reaching the landing outside his room. He leaned into the heavy door and slowly swung it open, expecting to find his private space warm and cozy thanks to the heat rising from the kitchen ovens. But when he stepped through the doorway, he was surprised to see his father sitting at his desk and flipping through a particularly cumbersome book.

“Shut the door behind you,” he quietly instructed. Finn did as he was told before walking further into his room. “Your mother informed me about what happened to Annika, and explained how you’ve been looking after her ever since. She says she woke up screaming on more than one occasion.”

“Yes, she’s been having nightmares,” he replied, and went over to his dresser for a set of dry clothes.

“How’s her memory?”

“It comes and goes,” Finn said, peeling off his wet socks, and then his shirt. “Konstantin did quite a number on her, but then…there was much that needed forgetting.”

“That’s what your mother said.” Ambrose politely turned to gaze at the rain still hitting the windows while his son pulled off his wet pants and slipped into dry ones. “I hear that Annika is making a lot of progress with her Karsikko.”

A smile of restrained pride crept across Finn’s mouth as he nodded in agreement. He quickly buttoned up his fly and tugged a long-sleeved linen shirt over his head.

“It’s remarkable how quickly she’s learning, although it does help that she genuinely wants to master the language. She’s a very determined student.”

“Yes, I imagine she is, with you for a tutor. You’re quite determined as well.” Ambrose noted with a curious look. “What else have you been working on with her day in and day out for the past month that I’ve been away?”

Finn motioned to the wall of books.

“A bit of this and a bit of that…geography, history, astronomy, politics, cultural norms…”

“And exactly what cultural norms are you teaching her up here in your bedchambers at night?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me perfectly well,” Ambrose said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. “Your mother might find this close bond between you and Annika endearing, but I find it alarming. I saw the way you were looking at her down in the kitchen. You wanted her so much that it hurt. How intimate have the two of you been that you should feel this way?”

Finn’s body stiffened as if he’d been struck in the face. Not daring to look his father in the eye, he quickly set about gathering his wet pants from the floor.

“It’s not what you’re insinuating. I’m only caring for her as Mother asked me to,” came his terse reply. While he stooped down to grab his wet socks and shirt, Ambrose’s eyes darkened with gravity.

“It’s one thing for you to care for her and it’s another to completely undermine your brother’s marriage.”

“I haven’t undermined anything! He’s the one who can’t keep his bloody trousers on!” Finn immediately shot back. He balled up his dirty wet clothes and threw them at a basket near the dresser. They hit the rim so hard that the basket fell over and rolled awkwardly across the patterned rug. He glared at the basket, and then at his father, who was now sitting up straighter in the chair at the desk. “It was Talvi’s idea for us to share a room back in Paris. Given that he didn’t mind then, I’m certain that Mother had no reason to think he would mind now.”

“I’m well aware of what your mother and your brother asked you to do in those circumstances, and I highly doubt either of them gave you permission to share a bed with Annika,” Ambrose warned coolly. His voice had grown acerbic, and his eyes were simmering with restrained anger.

“But I haven’t,” he insisted. “I’ve slept on the floor every night!”

“Every single night?”

“Yes!”

“Then why is your hair trapped between your sheets along with hers?”

Finn’s jaw fell in horror.

“You inspected my sheets?”

“And your pillows,” his father added as he rose to his feet. “It’s the first place one looks for evidence of an affair, and from what I could tell, your bedding has not been laundered in some time.”

“I can’t believe this! I can’t…I…she…” he sputtered in desperation. “She’s been sleeping there every night apart from the last, so I slept there instead,” he explained, growing more flustered by the second. “She wasn’t with me last night. I brought her to Talvi’s room and then I returned here alone.”

“Can anyone confirm that this is indeed what happened?”

Finn’s broad shoulders fell in defeat and disbelief.

“No,” he faltered.

“What set last night apart from every other night that she’s slept in here?”

Finn rolled his eyes as he racked his brain for a response.

“She’d overindulged in fairy brandy…I didn’t want her to be sick in my bed.”

Ambrose was stoic on the outside, but inside he was seething. After hearing courtroom testimony from the most innocent victims of circumstance and the most cunning of criminals, or even his own sons; he knew when he was being lied to.

“You’ve always been honest with me in the past, so why are you trying to deceive me now?”

“But I’m not—”

“Finn, if your duty has been to care for her every single day and night for the past month, then it makes no sense whatsoever to bring her to the opposite wing of our home when she needs you the most. Everyone else in the house may be blind to it, but I know that something is going on between the two of you.” He reached into his pocket and took out the torn envelope that he’d opened by mistake, showing off the official seal. “Why else would you have written to the High Court of the Korvaaminens on Annika’s behalf?”

Finn’s dark eyes opened wide in surprise and unexpected intrigue. Suddenly his defensive stance became more pliable to reason.

“They’ve responded?”

“Oh, they’ve not only responded, but they’ve summoned you to give a sworn statement and the names of all your family and friends who might testify on your behalf, if it comes to an actual hearing.” To keep from shaking in anger, he folded his arms across his chest and shook his head in disgust. “I find this new status of yours remarkably disturbing, since I specifically said that I did not want you to be named korvaaminen.”

“I thought as much, albeit after the agreement was made,” he shrugged, still looking bewildered at the arrival of his long-awaited letter.

“So you’re telling me that Talvi lied to you about having my blessing?”

“Of course he lied,” Finn scoffed. “You know how he is when he wants something badly enough. Even if a contract was carved in stone, he would still find a way to twist the words to yield to his favor.” A smile began to unfurl across his lips as he went on. “But I can bend them back into place just as easily. I really ought to thank you for the wisdom you’ve imparted upon us over the years, being a judge and all. You’ve taught us well.”

“I never taught you that it was acceptable to swindle your brother’s wife from him in some sort of custody hearing!” snarled Ambrose. “And I’ll be damned before I or anyone else in this family speaks in your favor!”

“I’m not trying to swindle anything from anyone,” Finn clarified with a self-righteous tinge to his words. “I only want what Annika wants.”

Ambrose shook his head in revulsion and frustration.

“However noble you think you’re behaving, there is a line, and you are crossing it! Even as korvaaminen, you’re not allowed to hold her or touch her, and you’re certainly not allowed to love her in the same way that your brother does.”

“I don’t think for one second that I love her the same way Talvi does,” he replied. “But I am entitled to.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Actually, I am,” Finn asserted while putting his hands in his pockets. “It says so right on page three-hundred eighty-three of The Rite and Rights of the Order of Korvaaminens, which is presently sitting on my desk in front of you, if you care to follow along.” While Ambrose furiously flipped through the pages of the book, Finn closed his eyes and pictured the paragraph on the lower left corner of the page; the paragraph that he’d studied so meticulously all summer. “And if there should come a time in the marriage when the beneficent spouse is no longer willing or able to maintain the most private and personal of marital relations with the beneficiary spouse, it is within the Korvaaminen’s full right to render that same comfort after no less than one year from the last intimate encounter between the spouses, provided that it is at the request of the beneficiary spouse and not at the request of the Korvaaminen. As they were the party requesting the privileges including but not limited to the care and protection of the beneficiary spouse, any objections by the beneficent spouse to the Korvaaminen carrying out these duties after the one year waiting period is null and void. A full list of exceptions to the one year waiting period is located in appendix D, section 4. Those exceptions include—”

“Stop! I’ve heard enough,” Ambrose cut in, staring at his son in repulsion. “You truly intend to move forward with this, don’t you?”

“Without question, now that I know they’ve agreed to hear my argument. It means my complaint is justified,” Finn confirmed. “Talvi has no interest in settling down or looking for another line of work. He’s clearly chosen his career over his marriage, which is why he asked me to be his korvaaminen in the first place. He simply can’t be bothered to give Annika what she needs or keep her out of harm’s way. I can. That’s precisely the reason why I agreed to the role when he offered it to me, even if it was done in haste. I thought it might be wise to look into the details regarding my rights and responsibilities, since the covenant we made is for life and not easily undone. As luck would have it, I qualify for at least two of those exceptions listed in appendix D, section 4, if not four of them,” Finn explained in a calm tone, looking unusually smug and pleased with himself. “As I said earlier, I only want what Annika wants.”

Ambrose abruptly stood up and walked around the desk, then up to his son. His fist had been clutching the letter so tight that it was crumpled in the center and damp from the anxious sweat gathering in his palms. His heart raced faster as he searched desperately for a trace of Finn’s thought process.

“I wonder what she thinks she wants after having you plant gods knows what sorts of ideas inside her mind? But are ideas all that you planted inside of her?” His voice trembled with uneven uncertainty as he went on. “Your mother told me that Annika’s cycle only began this morning. I’m certain I’m not alone in thinking it’s extraordinarily late.”

Finn swallowed hard before tossing his half-dried curls out of his face.

“The delay is a result of the trauma from losing such a large quantity of blood in the vampire attacks,” he replied as if he’d rehearsed it a hundred times in his head. “Nothing more. If you ask Anthea she’ll tell you the exact same thing. Ask any medical professional. Ask Mother if you like. The female body reacts to stress in all manner of mysterious ways. Athletes frequently cease to have their cycles altogether. I won’t deny that I feel a great deal of affection for Annika, which is precisely the reason why I would never compromise her honor…not in the way that you’re suggesting.”

Ambrose was silent for a long time while he toyed with his beard. His troubled eyes stared out the windows until his pulse had returned to normal, although the somber expression in his face hadn’t changed much at all in that time.

“I want to believe you,” he finally said, and cast a hurt and disappointed look at Finn. Tears began to well up in his blue-green eyes, and he blinked them away as fast as he could. “I want so badly to believe you, but I don’t. And if the Ancient Order of Korvaaminens doesn’t believe you either, then they’ll rule against you. Have you forgotten that Korvaaminen law gives Talvi the right to end your life? All he must do is use the same hand that you shook when you made this terrible promise to him. Why else do you think I refused to give my blessing?”

Instead of looking alarmed, Finn merely suppressed a laugh.

“Lucky for me that he’s left-handed.”

“How dare you make light of something so monstrous!” his father hissed. “Perhaps if you stopped thinking with your cock for five bloody seconds you’d realize that if anything happens to you—or your brother, for that matter—your mother will blame herself for it! After all, she’s the one who insisted on placing Annika under your care. Think of the crushing guilt that will consume her if something happens all because she trusted you too much! Think of how it will affect Stella, given how much she adores you, along with Sloan. And what about your poor sister, being in her condition? Anthea’s grief would be felt so deeply that it would affect her unborn child. Have you thought to consider how this will rip our entire family apart? Do you understand why this has to end here and now? Mark my words, Finn Lir…if you betray your brother like this, you’ll make us all pay dearly for it.”

He attempted to flatten out the envelope in his hands before shoving it into his son’s chest. For once, Finn had nothing clever to say.

“I haven’t told anyone else about this damnable letter. Hopefully you’ll give some thought to the spectrum of consequences if you pursue this course of action. Write back to the Court of Korvaaminens and say there’s been a mistake. Tell them whatever you must, but this needs to be dealt with before your brother comes home and learns of what you’ve done.” He looked around the room, taking a mental inventory of the clothes and personal items that were clearly not Finn’s. “In the meantime I don’t want you or Annika within a yard of one another unless you’re in the company of someone else. Actually, I’d prefer if you weren’t even in the same room together. Perhaps you shouldn’t even be in the same village. I’ll send Asbjorn to collect her things and take them to her proper bedchambers. Whatever this was ends now.”

“But her nightmares…” Finn began. His father sighed with a false sense of concern.

“The nightmares are unfortunate, which is all the more reason to have Runa stay with her until Talvi arrives. Don’t you agree?”

“No. I don’t agree at all,” he protested, still holding onto the envelope his father had given him. “Nor will Annika stand for it. There’s no need for constructing such elaborate restrictions. She feels safer with me nearby. You can ask her yourself!”

“Perhaps I will,” Ambrose mused, calling Finn’s bluff. “Perhaps I’ll sit her down and pick through her mind so I can see exactly where you’ve been and how long you’ve been going there? Give me five minutes alone with her and I’ll be able to see what actually transpired in Paris. If you did the unthinkable, it would certainly explain the way you’re behaving. They don’t call it the unbreakable bond for nothing.”

Finn’s jaw had been clenched and his mouth had been pressed into a flat line for so long that it was beginning to hurt. His nostrils flared with each breath he drew into his lungs, yet it didn’t stop his thoughts from spinning.

“And what if I did the unthinkable?” he boldly ventured. “It’s Talvi who threw us together with no regard for the consequences. As far as I’m concerned, he’s made his bed.”

“That might very well be true,” Ambrose observed as he turned to leave. “But that does not entitle you to lie in it.”