Page 143 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

I watched him closely for signs of frustration, but he let out an obsequious laugh instead. Icicles of apprehension scraped along my spine, in spite of myself.

“I’ve already discussed it with your father, and he’s assured me that five weeks will be sufficient time. Reestablishing the Obsidian Throne will benefit us all, but in order to rebuild, wefirst need to discuss taxes.” There was something off in his tone, something more than the satisfaction that bled from his every self-important pore.

Hadhe discussed the visit with my father?

Or had he somehow worked out that if he planted that seed, we would all be forced to adhere to the pretense around it?

Though his comment about the taxes—coupled with his pointed glance toward the food wagons still being sorted through—was infuriating, it didn’t cause the same sinking in my gut that his implication did.

When I said nothing, his smile widened.

“Of course, Sir Aleksander is welcome to come by himself. I could use his support on a few?—”

“We’ll be there,” I cut him off, cursing myself for falling into his trap.

But heknew.

Somehow, he knew that my father wasn’t fit to go alone.

Der’mo.

He finally turned to go, taking his brother and his wife with him. Rowan’s brow was furrowed in concern as she studied the supply wagons.

I didn’t bother telling her what I already knew in my soul. Whatever Iiro was planning, the food would be the least of the price we had to pay.

And now I was down to weeks to figure out how to get him off the throne.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

The pressure of responsibilities outside this room were mounting with each passing hour, and yet, I couldn’t find it in me to leave. Not when Rowan’s perfect skin was against mine, her body prone and ready, her wicked mouth taunting me as I challenged the lengths of our stamina again and again.

One day soon, I would be forced to exist for my clan again. I would once again be my father’s executioner and put on the show of power he expected of someone who had finally claimed and tamed the feral princess of Lochlann.

But until that day, I had every intention of doing all of my claiming within the walls of our bedroom.

When we came up for air, or whenever Rowan fell asleep, I checked in with my men for news of Iiro’s movements. I sent letters thanking the clans for attending my wedding, asking subtle questions that allowed for even subtler answers about their feelings on the state of our kingdom.

And then I lost myself in my wife once again.

For six storms-blessed days, my father did not demand a single thing of me. And whether it was due to the fact that his mind was slipping deeper into the madness that seemed to takehold a little more each day, or the fact that he remembered I was on my honeymoon, I didn’t care.

I savored the moments alone with her until that was no longer an option.

Over breakfast in our bed, I was forced to break the news to her that a single week was all we could steal for ourselves.

“Starting this afternoon, we will need to be seen by the court,” I said, watching her face fall in response. “I couldn’t hold off meeting with the lords any longer than that, Lemmikki. And then there is the matter of the court needing to see you act as Clan Wife. The sooner they get to know you in this position, the better.”

I wasn’t fooled into thinking this would be an easy transition for anyone. Not the court, and certainly not my lemmikki. But sooner or later, the gauntlet had to be thrown, and now was just as good a time as any.

Rowan sighed, irritably picking up another piece of maple bacon from our tray before leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

“Lemmikki.” I drew out the word, but she ignored me.

Every part of her practically hummed as she consumed each bite. Her lashes fluttered as her tongue darted out to lick the syrup first from her lips, then slowly from each of her fingers.

Every ounce of my resolve to leave this bed waned while I watched her, naked in my bed, eyes closed as she groaned, appearing to derive as much pleasure from that last bite of bacon as she had from me.

A low laugh escaped me as I crawled over to press my lips against hers, darting my tongue out to taste her the same way she had done with her breakfast.