Page 167 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

It wasn’t the first time I had found him reliving some distant grief or anger-fueled memory, but this level of destruction was entirely new. I bit back a curse at his worsening condition, at how much more complicated this would make my life, let alone the proceedings today. Judging by the vacant expression in his gaze, my father was hardly going to be a reliable source of information.

“Konstantin?” His weak voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Brother,” he added, stumbling as he tried to stand. “They—they told me you were dead.”

I blinked, my fists clenching at my sides, unable to play pretend with the man who likely couldn’t remember who Samu was or that he had sent him to destroy yet another village. Or that his only son would be responsible for piecing together the wreckage of his clan—a clan their duke himself was destroying a little more with each passing day.

Confusion crumpled my father’s features and he shook his head, as if that would clear it from his most recent bout of insanity.

He looked around the room, his face reddening as he took in the disarray.

“What—?” he began, the question dying on his lips when his gaze once again landed on me. “Konstantin?”

Taras stepped between us, cutting off my line of vision.

“Go, Van,” he said quietly. “See what you can learn from the barracks. I’ll take care of Aleksander.”

I dipped my chin once, not bothering to look back at the madman who couldn’t even be held accountable for the atrocities he’d ordered in the night. And then I turned to leave the room, ordering one of the soldiers in the hall to fetch the healer.

Fury weighed down each of my limbs as I marched toward the Great Hall. There had been nothing I could do to subvert the order, no time I could buy for the man who had done little, other than refuse to bow to Samu’s sadism.

By all accounts and what little I knew of him personally, Vasily was a good soldier. He had joined later, having been granted an exception to care for his ailing father. But he was a loyal citizen. A faithful husband. Obedient son. And yet, here we were.

I stood outside the imposing doors where nearly every one of our soldiers and the visiting courtiers were already waiting.

Dread and anticipation filled the air like smoke, choking the air in my lungs. The sound of delicate footsteps echoed through the halls, each one echoing through me like the ticking of a clock.

When they stopped, Rowan slipped her arm through mine, squeezing my bicep once, letting me know she was there. I brushed my hand over hers once, acknowledging her support in the only way I could. But I didn’t turn to look at her. I couldn’t.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the expression she wouldn’t quite manage to hide.

Kirill fell in step behind us as I signaled to the guards to open the doors.

I ignored the echoing sobs from Vasily’s wife, and the pointed glares cast in my direction when I was the one to approach the judgment seat instead of my father.

There was a part of me that wondered just how much worse things would get if I cast a light on his madness. If I didn’t allow him to hide away in his chambers whenever his mind slipped, if I forced him to sacrifice his pride the way he sacrificed our people.

But then I remembered every logical reason I had for enduring his madness the way that I had. Every reason I played the role of judge and jury, of executioner and host. An all-out war would risk the lives of everyone.

I reminded myself that I was helping more of my people by staying his hand where and when I could, by keeping the dukes from fighting for territory and stealing the few resources we had stored away for our people.

I hoped my wife would understand those things as well.

Silently, I took my seat in front of the hearth at the head of the room. Rowan stood at my right, while Taras stood at my left. Bear soldiers and courtiers framed the three long walls in front of us, each of them staring blankly at the man in the center of the room.

Vasily stood with his shoulders squared, his wrists and ankles chained together. His carefully neutral expression faltered slightly whenever his wife’s sobs grew too pained. I glanced over at her and the swollen belly that indicated she was with child.

I blinked, and suddenly, she had wild crimson curls and perfectly bowed lips and it wasmychild she carried.

It was as much a relief as it was grating when Samu stepped up behind Vasily, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Speak,” I ordered coolly.

Samu’s mouth curled up in a vile grin as he expounded on the events of last night, naming Vasily as a traitor.

“What were the orders?” I asked, because it was expected of me, though I already knew the answer.

“To rid the village of Boldegu of any remaining rebels, regardless of their age,” Samu said, his soulless gaze locking on mine as he waited for a reaction.