Her father continued. “You did not tell me how Bataar treated you or abused his wives. How you were forced into exile. How Michel kept you safe.”
“I was worried that if I spoke of Michel too fondly, you would be more suspicious of our relationship. I didn’t want anyone to discover the pregnancy until he was far away.”
“Again, these are times when you must trust in the counsel of the people around you. That was too heavy a decision to make on your own, and in an instant at that.” He leaned forward to take her hands. “Enebish, you are impulsive. What have I always taught you? Think before you step, and what have you always done? Step before you think. If you want to lead, darling, you cannot do it on your own.”
“I understand.” She squeezed his hands, then let them go. “Father,” she continued, realizing she was not yet finished with her demands. “It cannot be allowed anymore—wife-stealing.”
“It is notallowed,” he began.
“Yes, but it happens.” She looked at him sharply. “It is terrible and degrading and brutal. Our culture is too beautiful to turn our heads when such a thing takes place.”
“It has always been a complication among the young tribes. I truly haven’t seen the face of it so close.”
“It happens,” she shook her head, thinking of the trauma of the girl, “to those poor girls without the support that I have. Their families can’t do anything to help them.” She gave him a weak smile. “And would you love me any less if you were a shepherd and not the Khan?”
He closed his eyes and stroked down his beard with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry that it took happening to you to make me take notice,” he said. “I will ensure it is punished. And that the women who have fallen victim are given protection.”
“Thank you, Father,” she said. She trusted him. He would make it right.
Her father shifted and cleared his throat. “Now back to Michel,” he said, a grumble to his voice.
She looked to see his expression turn stern once more, causing worry to unravel inside her.
“I don’t hate him,” he conceded.
“No?” she gave a small grin.
“He never once mentioned cashmere,” Borjigin continued, softer. “I didn’t know anything about how he was trying to secure a line.”
“I never said we produced it.” She shrugged.
“We have thousands of goats roaming the steppes. He would have to be a horse’s ass not to figure it out.” He gave a small laugh. “I asked him, after you left, why he didn’t bring it up. He said he didn’t want any more complications. He only cared about becoming your husband.”
“Why did you agree, Father?” Eve asked, looking up at him. “To let us marry?”
He just gave a far-off smile. He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “I have entertained you through books, languages, history, philosophy, politics, studies in the cities, and debates with important leaders. But never once, Enebish, have I had to deal with you falling in love. You never cared for marriage, never showed any interest in any man that I saw.” His expression was gentle as he spoke. “I would be a cruel and unwise man to deny this union.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” She sighed. “I should have just spoken to you outright.”
“Darling, think before you step.” He reached forward to take her hand. “You helped the man escape before you let me see the full picture. Don’t let pride stop you from asking for what you need. You will be a duchess, far away, and you won’t have my counsel. You are smart enough to put your trust into the right people.”
“I know, Father.” She folded her hands, very much humbled.
“He adores you,” Borjigin grunted.
“Yes.” She couldn’t help grinning—of this she was sure. “He does.”
“Perhaps don’t be so harsh on him,” he said with amusement.
“Perhaps,” she said, mirroring the amusement that was on her father’s face.
ChapterForty-Two
Over the next few days, Michel had the chance to get to know Eve’s family, and it was a hell of an experience. Since the moment that Michel left his future father-in-law’s study, he had not been permitted to see Eve. Not during the day, during dinner, or at night. He didn’t know if her father commanded as such or if she was still enraged about how the marriage arrangements were handled. Michel didn’t get to ask. Instead, he met what seemed like hundreds of aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews, all who gave him suspicious glares behind warm smiles and warned him to treat their Eve well or the ancestors would haunt his days and nights.
And then there were her brothers.
Dzhambul, Esen, Tarkhan, Chuluun, Batuhan, and Yul, each terrifying testaments to the strength needed to thrive in this land. To be fair, his first interaction with them had been when he was almost beheaded at their father’s feet. Now that they weren’t trying to rip off his arms and beat him to death with his own bones, as Eve had once told him they would, Michel could see how much they cared for their sister. Not allowed to sleep in the palace, Michel stayed in the yurt of Yul, the only one still not married. Yul spoke to him and tolerated him more than the others, though still not that much.
