Page 69 of Obsidian Throne

For now, we just needed to get the hell out of this castle.

We needed to get home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

EVANDER

Istared back at Iiro, meeting his enraged gaze with my own. My blood boiled in my veins, and even a lifetime of schooling my features was threatening to fail me now.

He had orchestrated this.

I wasn’t sure how, but the amount of anger rolling off of him when his wife lied for us was telling. But he hadn’t been alone.

My gaze found Ava, still staring furiously at Rowan.

Funny, how my father’s widow seemed more angry than sad.

How she was the only one to have seen him before she went to the sauna, then happened to find him when she returned.

She was certainly capable of murder, but I had to wonder what she could possibly have gotten out of this arrangement. Of course, I couldn’t prove any of it, which meant she would be headed back to Bear with us.

That was just as well. She had no power left, and I wanted to keep an eye on her. Besides, there were more important things to worry about right now, like getting Rowan safely away from here.

“Kindly return my wife’s dagger as well,” I said, taking a step closer to the dais. “It is a family heirloom.”

Iiro’s eyes narrowed even further. He glanced from me down to the blood-stained blade in his hand, making a show of examining it.

“It’s a shame your father was killed with something so vulgar,” Iiro commented.

I didn’t respond, because I wasn’t sure I agreed. Instead, I stepped forward to take the proffered blade.

“I expect we’ll be updated on what’s sure to be a very thorough investigation,” I said pointedly as I dipped into a shallow bow, maintaining eye contact with him.

A bitter smile pulled at his mouth, but he nodded for his audience.

Turning my back to the king, I walked directly to Rowan and took her hand. She entwined her fingers tightly with mine, and we strode out of the room.

After a few quick words with Kirill and Henrick, things were set in motion for us to leave. Ava stayed in the main room with Iiro, while Rowan and I went to the room where Samu was still holding vigil over my father’s body.

I reached for the silks the maids had brought up with numb fingers, preparing to wrap my father’s body as it was customary for the heirs to do.

What wasn’t customary, or expected, was Rowan stepping on the other side, reaching her hands out to help. While my relationship with my father was complex, hers was not. He had only ever been cruel to my wife, her people, and her family.

“You don’t have to–” I began.

“I know,” she said resolutely. “But I want to. You’re my husband, and he’s your father. So tell me what to do.”

Her bright green gaze connected with mine, holding nothing but determination, so I reluctantly walked her through the motions.

When we were done, I painstakingly washed each droplet of blood from my hands and nails while Rowan did the same.

How many times had I cleansed someone’s blood from my skin? How many times had I wished it was my father’s?

And yet, I felt hollow.

I had grieved him a long time ago, but that didn’t take away the sinking realization that he was gone. Or the twisted part of my soul that felt nearly as much sorrow as relief.

I was still scrubbing at phantom residual droplets when a smaller pair of hands came over mine.