Page 162 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
It wasn’t that she had been able to pull him from his insanity, but more that he was ready to get down to business—something he proved by launching into his plans for the coming war. The one on Lochlann.
Rowan stiffened at my side each time he referenced her grandparents in derogatory terms, or laid out his heinous plans for their corpses. The things he would do with their daughter before declaring victory over the north.
My stomach twisted as I nodded, playing along with his nightmarish plans that had become painful truths for my lemmikki’s family.
And yet, Rowan’s face remained stoic. We had discussed the importance of tonight before even leaving our rooms, and with every passing moment, I appreciated her determination to remain calm.
Especially when my father mentionedMairi’srole in the downfall of her family.
“So you’ll lead the forces through the tunnel with the second wave, after I’ve taken care of the H’Rians.” He nodded proudly toward Rowan, a conspiratorial grin twisting his mouth. “Mairi has told me the best way in through the gates.”
My fist clenched around my fork. This was a new sort of torture that I was unaccustomed to. Though I’d heard this plan, this story more times than I could count, being forced to hear it again next to my lemmikki and knowing that every new and horrifying detail sent a fresh wave of horror crashing over her, filled me with an entirely new kind of anger.
I pressed my leg against Rowan’s in a subtle gesture of comfort. It wasn’t the same as holding my stepmother down while my wife peeled the skin from the hag’s bones with the blunt edge of that knife in her hand, but it would have to do. For now, at least.
Fortunately, his mind slipped shortly after that and he fell silent as we made our way through the next course.
Unfortunately, just when Rowan appeared to be enjoying her potato soup, he spoke up again.
“I see you’ve brought the Lochlannian whore at last.”
Storms help me. This might be the night I finally kill him.
I kept my mask in place as I brought my spoon to my mouth, taking my time to chew and swallow before responding. Thanksto my father’s training, feigning amused indifference was a skill I had developed well before I could walk.
“I brought my new wife to dinner, as you requested,” I said, far more calmly than I felt.
Rowan was deathly still. Did she understand why I couldn’t defend her here? That under any other circumstances I would rip the man’s head from his body if he deigned to insult her like this, offering it to her on a gilded platter?
My father sighed, sitting back in his chair as he eyed me. His expression hardened as he glanced between the two of us.
“I was concerned when you practically begged me to keep her as your pet that you might develop an attachment to her.”
I forced myself to lift my glass with a casual air, taking a sip of red wine that turned to ash on my tongue. It never ceased to amaze me how my father’s mind worked, or how he remembered the things he wanted to remember at the most inconvenient of times.
Before I could respond though, my stepmother helpfully chimed in.
“Begging, Evander? Again?” she asked with a cruel grin. It was the first time she had risked speaking since we sat down, but clearly the opportunity to demean me had proven too tempting for her to resist.
Heat radiated from my wife’s chair, static crackling like lightning in the folds of her gown. Or perhaps itwaslightning. At this point, I wouldn’t doubt what she could do when provoked.
But instead of looking at Rowan, I kept my gaze fixed on Ava’s, letting her see every ounce of the promise I had made all those years ago. Korhonan might have stopped me then, but one day, there would be no one to stand between us. No one to save her from the slow, painful death she deserved.
“Your mother was like that,” my father said, as if she hadn’t spoken, his tone less venomous than it had been before. “Always taking in strays.”
The nostalgia killed Ava. It always did whenever my father mentioned his first wife with a modicum of fondness.
“You know I take more after you, Father,” I said, taking another sip from my glass. “Though, you always did tell me Lochlannian women were good for a passing diversion.”
Though I knew it rankled at her, Rowan remained carefully controlled despite the implication. But I wasn’t under the impression that she would let it go so easily once we were alone.
Ava’s reaction was nearly enough to make that looming exchange worth it. Her expression darkened, an angry scowl twisting her thin mouth. Her offense only deepened when my father didn’t contradict me.
Instead, he dipped his chin in approval before shifting the conversation to other topics, considering this one closed.
The rest of our meal continued mostly without incident, aside from Rowan’s blatant disgust for a traditional Socairan delicacy. But because this night was the gift that kept on giving, once that delightful experience was finished, my father asked to speak with me privately.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN