Page 175 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

Supposedly, before the war, when I was still an infant, my father brought me to the palace to be blessed by the King and Queen of Socair—not that it had done any good.

From what little I knew about our former monarchy, the clans treated them more like gods than people—something the royals encouraged every chance they got.

Looking at the palace now, it made more sense that its former occupants might have considered themselves to be deities when their home was made of midnight stars and liquid obsidian.

Despite a lifetime of traveling in close proximity to the palace, I had never seen it quite like this. Then again, maybe I had never truly looked.

Perhaps the superstitions surrounding the Obsidian Palace were so deeply ingrained into our culture that they had bled over into my subconscious. Or perhaps, Iiro, in his particular brand of ostentatiousness, had added more to the rebuilding efforts than I realized.

I grew angrier with each new display of wealth that was reflected in the palace itself, along with its grounds, wondering exactly where Iiro had gotten the money to invest in his new home.

Elk was wealthy enough, but this went beyond even their coffers.

And still, he claimed to need more…

It was one thing if he wanted to starve his people to rebuild a monarchy he thought he deserved, but it was quite another that he was demanding we do the same.

I clenched my fists at my sides, hoping that the other dukes were just as outraged as I was. If they were, it would certainly make things easier moving forward. Then again, Iiro hadn’t gotten here by accident. He had waited to make his move untilhe was sure he could, and unseating him from power wasn’t likely to be easy.

Even with the help of Are´s and Nils, and whoever else I could pull over to my side.

“We need to keep up our guard,” I told Rowan as we drew closer to the palace. “Iiro is endlessly conniving.”

She stiffened slightly before nodding.

“Do you think this is about more than the food taxes?” Her voice was low, worried, and her fingers drummed anxiously on her knee.

I considered that. My gut told me yes; to be prepared for anything. There was no limit to what Iiro would do to keep his new crown.

Two roads unfolded in my mind. The one where Iiro was merely flexing the reach of his newfound authority by forcing us to witness him on his new throne.

And another, more nefarious one, where his movements and decisions were still murky to me, but far more sinister.

“I don’t know yet,” I answered her honestly, wishing I had a better answer to offer.

Several moments passed before she spoke again.

“Do you think he knows what you’ve been planning?” Her question was even quieter this time, her tone more anxious than before.

Every muscle in my body tensed. I heard what she wasn’t asking:Are we walking into a trap?

As much as I wanted to believe that my efforts over these past few weeks hadn’t been in vain, I couldn’t help but wonder what I was missing. I considered that second road again. The one where he strategically waited until every card was in play before revealing his hand.

The only problem was, I didn’t know what game we were playing.

“Storms help us if he does,” I said on an exhale.

I couldn’t fight the feeling that we were all just puppets on a string, bending and dancing to Iiro’s will. Between that, whatever Ava was plotting, and the escalation in my father’s deterioration, our odds of making it out of this unscathed were worsening by the minute.

Rowan slid her hand into mine, lacing our fingers together. She gently squeezed, offering a small bit of comfort in that quiet way of hers. I lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before pulling it into my lap.

At least there was this.

At least I had her, even if everything else was going to hell around us.

I held onto her until the moment our carriage came to a stop in front of the imposing obsidian doors and a servant rushed to open our door.

Iiro had spared no expense in making it clear that this washishome. Each of the servants were decked out in brand new uniforms dyed a shade of purple-black that almost matched the walls of the palace itself.