Page 52 of Obsidian Throne

The cries of the woman grew louder as she ran over to her husband, throwing her arms around his neck. Tears stung at the back of my eyes as I looked away, keeping my face a mask of neutrality.

Then I linked my arm in my husband’s, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze just as I had done on the way into the room. Again, his hand came to cover mine, his fingers squeezing mine this time.

Every fiber of my being felt hollowed out, but I could feel that same emptiness emanating from Evander as we left the Great Hall.

I knew there was no part of him that wanted to do this. I knew that he hated himself in this moment.

And I would not make this worse for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EVANDER

The woman’s screams echoed in my head the rest of the day. Her husband’s, too, for that matter.

I got through the motions of training with my men and finishing up business around the estate before it was time to head back to my and Rowan’s rooms. When I reached our door, I paused for a moment, realizing there was no part of me that was ready to face her again.

She might have stood publicly by my side earlier, but she had also watched me exile and brand a man for the egregious crime of refusing to murder children. I wasn’t sure how I felt about his choice.

The children had died anyway, and his family had paid for his conscience.

But part of me was almost jealous, in spite of the branding and the pain and the life I knew he would have to live now, because it was a stand I had never been able to take.

Who knew how many more innocents my father might harm if I weren’t here to stay his hand?Even in Lochlann, I had worked constantly to subtly counteract his orders, though this one had obviously slipped through the cracks.

I supposed I could just add the screams from today to the rest of those that haunted me.

“Van?” Yuriy’s voice cut into my thoughts.

Kirill must have gone home to his wife for the day.

I gave my cousin a tired look, and he returned it with one of understanding. We had all been forced to make decisions that ate away at our souls, even Yuriy, at only seventeen.

Nodding in return, I finally pushed open the door.

Rowan was sitting in the window seat near our bed, staring out at the mountains. Her crimson curls fell freely down her back, and she was wearing her black-and-white tartan nightclothes.

She turned when I entered, her green gaze assessing me. Wanting to talk about literally anything but what happened earlier, I gave her outfit a once over.

“Interesting dinner attire,” I commented, though even I heard the hollow sound to my voice.

“I thought perhaps we could have dinner sent to our rooms?” Rowan mentioned in a neutral tone.

I raised my eyebrows. “As tempting as that sounds, we have--”

“Dinner with the lords,” she finished, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. “Taras told me. He also said it wasn’t completely necessary, so... I could ask him to convey our regrets. And we could relax here.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. I didn’t really need to have dinner with the lords tonight so much as I hadn’t been prepared to face Rowan’s judgment about the Unclanning.

But she didn’t appear to have any.

“That...would be preferable,” I admitted.

She nodded, then went to the door to tell Yuriy while I unbuttoned my coat. I hung my clothes up one by one, and Rowan shook her head.

“You know, you could just put them on the chair for now.”

I looked over to where her dress from earlier was flung casually over one of the sitting room chairs, her shoes kicked haphazardly next to them.