Page 129 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

My father and Ava, along with the lords and ladies of court, observed from the balcony, while the soldiers lined up aroundthe edges of the bailey so that everyone had a clear view of my father’s executioner at work.

On days like this, I wondered how far the reaches of his sanity went. If he was slipping further into the madness that had haunted him for years, or if he knewexactlywhat he was doing when he gave me these orders.

If he knew the cost it took on my soul after finally having known a moment of peace. If this was punishment for having the audacity to carve out a space in the ether where I existed for no one other than her.

Blood was everywhere, staining the cold gray stones on the ground, the black fabric of my trousers, dripping from the obsidian steel of my new sabers.

Crimson like the curls that spilled onto my bare chest in dawn’s early rays in a life that felt like someone else’s.

The days had passed with an interminable slowness, marked only by the blood I spilled for my father.

One corpse after another was added to the list of lives I’d taken while I remembered jade eyes and a mischievous smirk. While I thought about the sound of her laugh or the feel of her perfectly bowed lips.

It was familiar, at least—the act of taking a life—the feel of slicing through skin and bone. The feeling of blood on my hands while I slipped further into the recesses of my mind.

It was the price I paid for her safety. A price I would willingly pay, over and over.

For now, at least, she wasn’t here to witness it all. If I could calm my father’s bloodlust before she arrived, maybe she would never have to see exactly how much blood was on my hands.

I comforted myself with the fact that I wasn’t fighting a war on more than one front, for the time being. While I had expected more fallout from the other clans—Wolf, in particular—there was nothing.

It was as if every clan in Socair was holding their breath for my upcoming wedding. As if that would be the determining factor for whatever was set into motion next. Or perhaps they were too busy bowing to their new king to be bothered making plans that didn’t align with his.

I thought of the extra patrols stationed at the border. The random inspection of all goods coming in from Lochlann. The distinct lack of communication between the clans and the eerie silence from my spies throughout the kingdom.

Another sweep of my blades, another spray of blood.

Was there a part of my father that regretted backing Iiro’s petition to be king? Was that part of the reason his hunger for death had become so intense? Or had my alliance with his greatest enemy been too much of a betrayal?

I met his hardened gaze as I stepped up to the next villager. Whatever shred of humanity my father had possessed had died the day my mother did.

With another sweep of my swords, I added another head to the pile. As much as I hated my father more with each arc of my blades, I couldn’t silence the question echoing in the cavern of my mind.

Were his soulless eyes a window into my future? Would I crave death and vengeance with the same fervor if I lost the only source of light in my life? The one person I loved more than anything else in the storms-damned world?

By the time I delivered the killing blow to my fifty-seventh person today, I didn’t have a good answer. All I knew was that I would do whatever it took to keep Rowan safe.

Even if it cost me the last broken piece of my soul.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Fifty-three days.

Fifty-three storms-damned days since I had seen my wife.

And twenty six of them had involved some sort of bloodshed.

We had only spent one insanely perfect night together before I was ripped away from her, forced to come back here to try to salvage the mess my father and Iiro had collectively made.

I suppressed a scowl as yet another wagon ambled along the road to Bear Estate, full of Lochlannian goods and manned by yet another flame-haired couple.

Just like every time, I couldn’t help but scrutinize the faces for Rowan’s bright green eyes and mischievous lips.

Of course, she wasn’t there.

That thought should have flooded me with relief. That meant she was actually listening to me and sticking to our plan, which was a wonder in and of itself. It meant she was safe, or as safe as she could hope to be right now.

Nonetheless, my chest felt hollow, and I found myself closing my hand around the signet ring I had worn around my neck since I left.

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