Page 173 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

I glanced up at the portrait before recalling his words after the wedding. He hated the King of Lochlann for not having the decency to kill our men on the battlefield, but more than that, he was still a grieving father.

We drank again, and this time, instead of refilling our glasses, I set the bottle between us on the small table.

Sitting forward, I took a moment to reconsider our last conversation in light of that fact. Not only had Nils always been loyal, both to me and my father, but he had always been one of the more judicious dukes.

And when I began to take over duties as my father’s heir, he had been at the very least…indifferent with me, which was more than I could say about some of the other clan leaders.

“My intention was never to add insult to injury,” I finally said. “But you must know, as I do now, that Iiro has been stacking the odds far longer than we knew we were playing the game.”

He let out a scoff but dipped his chin to acknowledge my point.

I continued, reaffirming my point from our last conversation.

“In a sea of difficult choices, I made the one that I thought best for Bear and her allies. And if it was Elk’s intention all along to take the Obsidian Throne, at least we control the pass and whatever remains of the goods coming in after histaxes.”

He took his time, processing my words before silently refilling our glasses.

After a stiff silence, he nodded again, raising his glass in salute before downing its contents.

“We are surrounded, as you said, by a sea of difficult choices. I can see why you and your father made the move to thwart Iiro’s plans, but that does not mean I accept the alliance with Lochlann,” he said with a sigh.

I wasn’t sure where that left us, exactly. But I was glad, at least, that his anger had abated enough to understand the political aspect of it all, even if I was keeping my personal reasons out of the conversation entirely.

Nils didn’t need to know that I would have done anything to keep Rowan. Or that my duke had not, in fact, sent me to Lochlann to secure said alliance. At least, for the sake of this alliance, I could use my father as the scapegoat.

After everything I had been forced to do in the name of his insanity, it was the least he could do for me, for the future of our clan and the security of our alliance with Wolf.

“Understood,” I replied evenly.

I downed the vodka in my glass before resting it on the table between us.

“As you said, the hour is late,” I added a moment later, ready to take my leave.

Nils shook his head. “True enough, but as you have already kept me awake longer than I prefer, you owe me at least one cigar and a round of billiards.”

A wry grin tugged at the corner of my mouth before I agreed, knowing that he prized his cigars over his blood relatives.

It was the closest thing I would get to a reminder of his loyalty—something I hadn’t been willing to insult him by outright asking for, but that I appreciated all the same.

With the tides constantly shifting throughout Socair, it was a relief to know I could depend on this, at least. Iiro had one less sword at his disposal in whatever battle we had ahead of us.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

It was a relief to put some distance between Wolf and our caravan. Aside from the obvious tension between Rowan and the allies we needed, it was more work than not to monitor the things my father said.

My father always clung especially hard to lucidity when he travelled—or at least maintained enough pride to give the appearance of it—but I didn’t trust his worsening condition with an ally who was already tense with us.

I was considering the many ways I might need to circumvent his madness to thwart whatever schemes Iiro was hatching when Rowan’s voice startled me from my thoughts.

“What’s your favorite food?” she asked abruptly.

I raised my eyebrows at her, but she only looked back expectantly. I didn’t derive the same pleasure from food that my lemmikki did—I wasn’t sure anyone did—but I did have a special fondness for Riina’s array of soups and stews.

“Beef stew,” I answered Rowan, still not sure why she had asked. When she didn’t immediately offer an explanation, I surmised she really had only asked out of curiosity. If our relationship had followed any sort of normal path, these were things we probably would have already known about each other.

I played along, pretending it wasn’t unusual to make small talk with her when I turned the question around on her. “Yours?”

“Cranachan,” she said, swaying happily in her seat at just the idea of whatever that was—though I could guess it was a pastry of some sort.