Page 125 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

Like she didn’t fully trust that this would last. Like the stars would refuse to let this moment last. Or maybe it was my own fear I saw reflected in her gaze.

Either way, I pulled her closer, refusing to let fate take her from me now.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

It was far too little time before Rowan’s unspoken fears—and the ones I had been determined to push from my mind—came to pass.

The sun streamed in through the window, highlighting the shades of ruby in Rowan’s curls. Her porcelain skin contrasted against the darker olive tones in mine, her curves pressing into me as she traced the ridges of my stomach.

An entire night and morning with her skin on mine hadn’t even begun to satiate either of us. Even now, the heat in her eyes as her fingers trailed across the deep V in my abdomen awoke that hunger inside of me that only she could satisfy.

Another wave of the endless energy between us chased away any lingering fatigue from the hours of well-spent exertion. After all, there were still so many ways I hadn’t yet managed to worship her.

I shifted to pull her closer when a familiar knock sounded through the room.

Der’mo.

I tensed, instantly on alert. It was the knock my men used, and not one of them would have dared interrupt me thismorning without cause. What could have happened to make them come now?

“Breakfast?” Rowan asked, her brows furrowing in concern.

I didn’t get to answer her before Yuriy called through the door in a tone that confirmed my worst suspicions.

“Lord Evander!”

Rowan looked at me, eyes wide with the same trace of trepidation that was slowly working its way into my veins. We both leapt out of the bed, and I had the ominous feeling we wouldn’t be returning to it. That the universe was already working to wrench away the small bit of bliss we had wrangled against all of our odds.

I tossed her the smaller of the untouched robes before donning my own, waiting until hers was securely belted before I opened the door.

Dread pooled in my stomach as I took in Yuriy’s grim expression. Dread, and a somber sort of…acceptance. Hadn’t I known the other shoe would drop at some point? Was it my father? Ava? Were some of the clans already pulling out of our long-standing alliances?

It was only further damning that my youngest cousin didn’t so much as blush at Rowan’s state of dishevelment. His features didn’t even twitch as he handed over a piece of parchment, the black wax seal already removed.

Two lines were hastily etched across the paper, a rushed imitation of Taras's usual neat script.

Iiro has declared himself King.

We need you home now.

-Taras

What in the storms-damned-hell had happened since I left?

My thoughts raced as Rowan ordered one of the servants in the hall to fetch her family to meet us in the Council Room. Similarly, I sent Yuriy to fetch Pavel and a few of the others to meet us there as well.

Rowan and I dressed quickly, a forbidding silence now filling the space between us as we processed what this could mean. As I considered my only viable options, and how hard it was going to be to leave her behind while I marched back into whatever fray was awaiting me in Socair.

As soon as we entered the room, I handed the letter to Logan. He cursed under his breath, but no matter how bad he was imagining this news to be, I could guarantee it would be worse.

“What does this mean for you?” he asked flatly, getting right to the point.

That was an excellent question, one dependent entirely on how far this farce had gone. If my father had already made his displeasure known, war was a likelihood, if not an inevitability.

Then there was the matter of the other clans, the allies I wondered if I had already lost by coming here. Of course, I had sent birds to them all personally once Rowan agreed to my proposal, letting them know a Socairan wedding was imminent. Most of them had been receptive, given what the alliance meant for our people.

Arès had responded with a surprisingly terse congratulations, and Nils hadn’t responded at all…

“It’s impossible to say without being there,” I answered, after a beat. “On the surface, Iiro’s claim itself is reputable, as the closest living relative to the defunct monarchy. But he would still need the support of the Summit, and I find it hard to believe he’s gotten that…”