Page 7 of Obsidian Throne

I had barely walked into his sitting rooms when my stepmother intercepted me.

“Mairi,” I said the name mockingly now that we both knew it wasn’t true.

“Stepson.” Her insistence on calling me that was just another way for her to assert control, to try to remind me of the power she once held over me. “Your father isn’t up to visitors just now,” she said.

I moved to step around her. “I’m certain he’s always up to seeing his son.”

Sick bastard that he was, he did hold me in some affectionate regard, or at least his legacy.

“I hear there was an Unclanned attack on one of the caravans today,” she remarked casually, a familiar cruel glint in her eye.

My blood froze in my veins, and I forcibly reminded myself that Rowan was with skilled men who would die to keep her safe. That she was a fighter in her own right. That Ava had always been a liar, and I refused to give her the reaction she wanted.

“I would be worried if I didn’t know how terrified you were of your beloved family coming after you,” I said evenly.

She scoffed, but there was fear behind her eyes. “You can’t think that threat is effective, when they all know where I am.”

“They’ve always known where you are,” I informed her with a shrug. “What they were lacking was information that only someone in Bear could give them.”

A cold smile stretched across my face, and she took a step backward. Then she lifted her chin.

“Information can be so dangerous in the wrong hands,” she said softly. “For instance, I wonder what your father would say if he knew you had forged his signature on the marriage contract.”

My father’s pride and refusal to admit his memory failed him made it a reasonable gamble to sign off on things on his behalf, but I used that sparingly, since generally it was easier to actually get him to sign.

I wasn’t sure what he would do if he figured that out. But I had learned a long time ago when to show weakness in front of this woman, and now was not that time.

I let out a dark laugh. “By all means, pit your word against mine. After all, I’m only his son, his legacy, the next in line to his Clan, while you’re the woman he was forced to marry after the wife he chose, the wife heloved, died.”

Fury flashed across her face, because she knew every word of it was true. Hell, it was why she hated me so much to begin with.

Her hand clenched at her side, and I wondered how much restraint it was taking for her not to slap me, though she had never dared to do anything quite so obvious.

Instead, her features twisted. “I may not be the wife he chose, but would he really choose you if he knew what a coward you were? Remember how you used to beg me not to punish you, even when you knew you deserved it?”

Had she ever possessed an actual soul? If Princess Isla’s reaction when she met me was anything to go by, the answer was no.

Times like this, I kept my composure by picturing the way her empty eyes would widen in surprise if I calmly severed her head from her body.

But sadly, it was not to be.

I forced a nonchalant sigh. “It still wouldn’t be enough to make him love you more. Or...at all, for that matter. In any event, I doubt you want to find yourself explaining to him how he managed to sign off on the leader of his enemy clan becoming king.”

“Like I had any control over that,” she spat. “As you know, women are not allowed in the Summit tent. We’re lucky he was feeling as lucid as he did then. At least they only believe he is as mad as he ever was.”

Hearing that woman refer to us in any sense of the word was galling, but she was right. We were lucky it hadn’t been worse.

Iiro convincing the lords there would be a war and taking advantage of my father’s never-ending bloodthirstiness toward Lochlann was, in reality, far from the worst thing that could have happened.

Ignoring her this time, I continued into my father’s study, shutting the door behind me before she could follow.

He was sitting at his desk, paperwork neatly piled in front of him. For a moment, he looked like he had when I was a child, back before I knew what a monster he was.

I sucked in a breath, and he looked up at last.

“Evander.” He said my name fondly, if not precisely warmly. “Did you take care of the issue with the soldiers?”

I mentally reviewed the first edict he had sent out this morning. It was harmless enough, just a stricter version of the laws on storing the clan flags.