Page 70 of Obsidian Throne

“They’re clean now,” Rowan said, gently guiding my hands out of the bowl to a nearby towel.

She was right, I realized. They were red and raw and free of blood, as far as the eye could see.

But I could feel my father’s blood, nonetheless, staining my skin and my mind and my soul.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ROWAN

We left with significantly less fanfare than when we had arrived, embarking on our long, somber journey back to Bear.

Ava stayed away from us whenever we stopped. Her features became harder and more withdrawn each time I saw her.

I tried in vain to decipher her motives, but they remained murky. Then again, the type of person who was willing to flog a child and abuse her only daughter for years wasn’t really a predictable person to begin with.

We took turns resting our horses and ourselves, never staying anywhere for longer than necessary. Though the temperatures were dropping by the day, we were still traveling with Aleksander’s corpse.

It wasn’t a journey that any of us wanted to extend for long.

I knew it was weighing on Evander, too. His father’s death, the impending responsibility waiting for him back at the estate, as well as whatever we had just walked away from at the Obsidian Palace.

Iiro was not going to let this go, but we had no way of knowing what his next move would be.

We had just crossed the border into Bear when it hit me.

The telltale tingling along my spine that warned of an oncoming storm. Only, like before, this felt like a different kind of warning.

Evander might not have had fae blood, but it was clear he felt a sense of wrongness as well. His shoulders were tense and his jawline hard as he surveyed the soldiers through the window.

Neither of us spoke about the ominous feeling pressing in around us, but we exchanged a look of shared understanding.

The dread pooled in my veins as the hours went on, even when we stopped at midday to water the horses. The sky was overcast and gray, but there were no wind or hail storms that I could sense.

I had been right, then. It wasn’t truly from the weather.

While Evander spoke with Kirill, I took the opportunity to stretch my legs. Ava shot me a glare laced with pure malice, and the feeling along my spine intensified.

I returned her stare, realizing a moment too late that I was playing right into her hands.

Because by focusing on her, I had let my immediate guard down.

It happened in an instant.

The soldier next to me wrapped a massive arm around my middle, pinning my arms to my side. Before I could react, his dagger was at my neck.

I froze, my heart pounding in my ears too loudly as I frantically sought out Evander.

His swords were already in his hands, his face a mask of rage deeper than any I had ever seen. Kirill was drawing his weapon as well, both of them moving toward me.

Another soldier stepped in front of them, sword at the ready, but with one quick flash of his sabers, my husband cleanly removed the soldier’s head from his body, not so much as pausing in his trajectory toward me.

At least, not until Ava’s voice rang out. “Unless you want her to die, Stepson, now would be a good time to stop.”

“Don’t--” I started, but the dagger pressed against my throat hard enough that rivulets of blood crept down my neck.

Evander lowered his weapon, turning slowly to face Ava where she stood half-hiding behind Samu. My husband’s voice dripped with the calm lethality he had mastered so well.

“What is it that you hope to gain here?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the man who had his hands on me. “And you, turning your weapon on a Clan Wife?”