Page 151 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

“Are those among the food stores that have already been replenished?”

Several lords pursed their lips in impatience, but it was a brief enough thing to explain. Still, a small bit of tension prickled between my shoulder blades as I responded.

“These haven’t yet received their wagons,” I told her shortly.

She nodded, satisfied. Her questions after that were rare and concise, and I felt the tension in my muscles ease as the lords grew visibly less bothered by her presence. Once I had a clearer idea of the issues she had no context for, I took a moment to explain them as I went so she wouldn’t have to field the irritable glances of the lords.

Taras offered a few explanations as well, and she nodded her appreciation.

I had almost let myself believe the gamble of bringing her had paid off by the time Lord Juto got to the first item on his list with a scowl.

“My Lord, we have a situation with three dissenting soldiers.”

I waved a hand and he continued.

“They were firstmen, ages fifteen, fifteen, and sixteen.” Though his tone was clinical, his features were pinched in annoyance. “They set fire to piles of gunpowder, frightening the ladies nearby and destroying some of the shrubberies.”

He didn’t mention any casualties, so Unclanning wasn’t necessary, though it wasn’t out of the question in cases of deliberate disobedience. Still, twenty lashes was more standard for a first offense, which I could assume was what he was looking for since Lord Juto had not mentioned anything to the contrary.

Despite Rowan’s experience with the whip—and my own, for that matter—the soldiers’ flogging would be carried out by someone trained to do it. Unpleasant enough to serve as a reminder to them and also a warning to the troops around them, but nothing that would cause any lasting damage.

As long as they hadn’t hurt anyone.

“Was anyone harmed?” I clarified.

“No, My Lord. The noise was what frightened the women.” Again, there was an edge to his tone, like they had offended him personally. Perhaps his wife or daughter had been amongst the ladies in question.

I debated briefly. Their blatant rebellion was concerning, especially with a potential war on the horizon. If they had been older, I might have thought it was intentional, a quiet rebellion against my father’s recent edicts or his support of Iiro.

That kind of disunity in the ranks was dangerous for every soldier in their battalion.

On the other hand, the crime itself had been relatively victimless, though using the powder in such close proximity to the unsuspecting women could have had far bloodier results. Given their youth, though, their idiocy was likely less out of direct disobedience than an ill-advised attempt at diversion.

An example needed to be made, but considering their ages, even Lord Juto should be satisfied with a slight reduction in punishment. Lashes, then, but fewer than they would have gotten.

My gaze slid unbidden to my wife, unease tugging at my chest.

She was by no means squeamish, having taken a number of lives herself. She had barely flinched when she watched me torture a man for information, not to mention the number of judgments she had heard stoically already this morning.

But the last time she was reminded of her flogging in the middle of a council room, she had gone visibly pale, her fingers trembling with panic. I knew that wasn’t a weakness she would want to show in front of the lords—nor one she could afford to, to be frank, but sending her out of the room would be far worse.

In any case, the several seconds I had taken to deliberate was already stretching on for too long, compared to the other issues. Rowan had been nothing but strong in front of the lords so far. I could trust her to do the same now.

“Fifteen lashes each,” I ordered.

Lord Juto nodded, approval evident in the smoothing of his pinched features. I had half a second to feel pride in thecompromise that kept the lord happy, the soldiers functional, and allowed me a rare opportunity to grant a bit of mercy without appearing weak before my wife’s gasp rang out.

“What?” Her icy exclamation sucked the air out of the room, as the lords stiffened in their seats one by one.

I fought not to follow their lead because, for all that I had worried about her panic, that was not the emotion coloring her tone right now.

Taking a subtle breath, I turned slowly to face her, ostensibly responding to the question we both knew she hadn’t intended as one, while trying to convey my heartfelt need for her to control her features. I took as long as I reasonably could with the motion, both to maintain my own patience and to give her a moment to gather hers.

Something she did not appear to be making any effort to do.

Her lips were parted in disbelief, her chin raised in defiance, like she had moved me carelessly from the role of the husband she trusted back to the enemy she didn’t in a matter of seconds.

“Fifteen lashes for children playing a prank?” For all the levity she tried to inject in her tone, the words fell like the crack of Samu’s whip, searing into the tension that already permeated the space. “Surely that’s excessive.”