Page 171 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

“Yes.” My voice came out a quiet rasp. “We’re in this together.”

“Promise me you’ll remember that.” Her face was close enough to mine that our breaths were mingling together, her eyes shining with rare sincerity instead of the cheeky mischief that was usually there.

And there was nothing I could have denied her in that moment.

“I promise,” I told her.

More than anything, I wanted that to be true.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

The next day was spent readying ourselves for the journey to the Obsidian Palace. After overseeing the packing, where my wife insisted on making room for the ominous box from her Lochlannian weapons-master, I responded to several missives from the lords and handled the finer business of unclanning Vasily.

Between reallocating his lands to other lords, sending someone to oversee the removal of his family from their property, removing his name from family records, and adding him to the long list ofBesklanovvy, a headache began to form in my temples.

Fortunately, I had a weeks-long carriage ride through Unclanned territory, broken up by nights spent covering for my father’s madness in the homes of our most prominent lords to look forward to as a reprieve.

And, of course, the arseling-extraordinaire king, himself.

When each day of our journey passed without incident, my suspicion began to grow.

Not only was my stepmother markedly more amenable at the dinners we were forced to sit through by our gracious hosts, but she was oddly silent as well.

I thought back to the rare display of emotion I saw on her face the day of Vasily’s sentencing. If she were anyone else, I might have suspected her hands were too full with my father to keep her from scheming, but that had never stopped her before when it came to Rowan.

Her hatred for my wife had likely only grown since she returned to Socair. And since we were in separate carriages, I hadn’t imagined it would stop her from making her usual attempts on my wife’s life, using her promises and threats to bend theBesklanovvyto her will.

But each band we passed remained just as distant as the last. An ominous feeling took root in my gut, gradually spreading through my veins like an infection. There was just something I couldn’t shake, no matter how many times I went over the possibilities in my mind.

“She has to be up to something,” I said under my breath as we passed yet another band who made no move to strike.

There was no way she would relinquish whatever hold she had over them—not yet, and not so easily. She was just waiting, then. But for what?

Rowan squirmed in her seat, her fists clenching in her full skirts as she stared out the window of our carriage.

“Do you think she’s given up on the Unclanned doing her bidding?” she asked, following my thoughts perfectly. “Or is she just biding her time?”

It was a good question. One I wasn’t sure I had an answer to. For all that I prided myself on being able to think through each of my enemies’ possible actions like moves on a chessboard, I hadn’t yet been able to determine what Ava was planning. And yet, whatever it was would surely pale in comparison to whatever Iiro had planned for us.

“She isn’t bold enough to make a move herself, so I wouldn’t count the Unclanned out yet,” I said simply. “Regardless, weneed to be on our guard at the palace. Ava is hardly our biggest concern at the moment.”

Rowan sighed, leaning into my arm.

“Whatarewe going to do about Iiro?” she asked. “And these taxes?”

Those two questions had kept me up for countless hours since returning to Socair.

“Arès and I are working on the problem in general,” I said, considering our last couple of letters. Neither of us wanted any part in whatever Iiro had planned, especially if that meant fighting on opposite sides of a war.

“But as far as right now goes…” I continued, exhaustion washing over me in a tidal wave. I ran a hand through my hair before resting my head against the bench behind me. “Honestly, Lemmikki… I don’t know yet.”

Rowan shifted slightly in her seat. She hesitated for a moment, and I felt the weight of her gaze studying me before she leaned closer. Warm breath skated across my neck and jawline.

“How long did you say until we stop again?” she asked against my skin, trailing her lips to the bottom of my ear.

“At least a few—hours.” I said, the words hitching in my throat as she playfully nipped at my skin.

I knew she was doing it as a distraction, using my own rather successful methods against me, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop her. Not when she was a diversion I constantly craved, the air I was so desperate to breathe every second of every day.

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