Page 138 of Obsidian Throne

But, I had promised Evander I would be careful. That I wouldn’t take unnecessary risks. As I stared through the mist, I knew trying to fight in it would be exactly that, not to mention compromise what we were trying to do.

My stomach twisted as I counted off the sounds of dying men, hoping that none of them had belonged to us.

Every so often, I glanced up at the watchtowers, waiting for the Elk soldiers to go back on their word. But they continued to stand still as statues with their eyes focused on anything but the battle below them.

Eventually the sounds of the fray were over, and a figure moved in the fog, coming toward us until finally Andrei’s face came into view.

Relief coursed through me. While he was covered in blood, none of it appeared to belong to him.

He brought our injured men outside of the gates, lining them up against the walls while I ordered a soldier with medic training to tend to them.

“The courtyard is clear, but we should move quickly in case more come,” Andrei whispered beside me, and I agreed.

My pulse quickened as the rest of the soldiers followed us into the gates. The ground was wet from either the mists or blood, so we picked our way carefully toward the palace entrance, stepping over bodies of Palace and Clan guards along the way.

Two of my men shoved open the doors to find six guards lining the hallway that led to the throne room.

Half of them were Elk, but the other three wore deep purple.

Thud.

I barely heard the whisper of steel against flesh over the sound of my own heartbeat, barely registered the blood pouring from the throats of the enemy soldiers as my men backed away.

The bodies fell to the floor with a low thump, the guards silenced before a cry of alarm could be raised. Three pools of crimson marred the pristine black marble, and I looked away, examining the remaining soldiers.

But the Elk guards didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I nodded to them, not breaking my stride toward the obsidian double doors.

Our muffled footsteps mingled with the gasps and shouts of the servants before they turned to run. We let them go. By the time they brought help back, we would already be barred in the throne room.

Halfway down the hallway, I gestured to Andrei. He nodded, sending his second-in-command up the stairs that would lead to the upper level of the room, along with a contingent of men.

Then finally, we stood outside the gleaming black doors that led to every reason I was here.

To stop Iiro.

To keep Evander safe.

To protect Bear.

All of it relied on what would happen in that room.

With a single dip of my chin, two of my men went to open those doors.

To seal our fate, for better or worse.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE

EVANDER

Ihad given up on sleep several hours after midnight, resigning myself to pacing the room and relentlessly reviewing every detail of what should have been a nearly flawless plan.

But when my entire clan was at stake, when my wife was at stake,nearlywasn’t good enough.

So it took more effort than usual to will my features into a haughty, careless mask as I made my way down the hallways to the throne room. Kirill and Yuriy were at my back, as no part of me trusted Iiro.

Arès clearly felt the same way, since he was waiting outside the door for us rather than going in. Danil Uitto, the Duke of Crane, joined us moments later.

He bore a solemn expression as he approached. With the losses he had suffered, Crane had more reason than even Bear to hate Iiro and his rule.