Page 176 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
Gold and silver buttons lined their tunics, trousers, and even added pomp to their shining shoes. Intricate designs were sewn onto their lapels and sleeves as well, rivaling some of the expensive designs of some of the wealthier dukes.
It was an effort not to roll my eyes as they silently rushed past us to escort our luggage to our rooms before whisking away our carriages to the palace stables as we continued to stand in front of the palace. There was a high-handedness in each of their actions, like they were above us. At least, all of us who did not yet have the title of Duke.
The steward motioned for all of us to go inside while he actually took the time to speak to my father.
“Sir Aleksander,” he said with a small dip of his chin. “We have been looking forward to your visit. Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you during your stay.”
My father blinked irritably at the man. He looked between him and the doors of the palace, his expression going distant in a way that had me wondering if he was reliving some past visit to the palace.
“Thank you, Master Steward,” I said, stepping next to my father to cover for his lapse. “It has been a long journey, and my father would like nothing better than to be shown to his rooms before dinner.”
The man nodded tersely before letting me know that wouldn’t be possible. Thatour kingwas expecting us in the Great Hall first.
My mouth formed a tight line as I thanked him again in a tone much less hostile than I felt. Instead, I braced myself as we entered the palace, carefully watching my father as he observed the grandeur of the Obsidian Palace.
The space must have been familiar enough for him, because even in his half-lucid state, his feet led him confidently in the right direction.
As if by muscle memory alone, he led us directly to the Great Hall, where we were met with an even greater display of luxury.
A muscle feathered in my jaw as I looked from the crystal chandeliers to the silk tapestries, then to the polished oak table laden with more food than even the Summit meetings usually offered.
Every display, every lavishly designed portrait, and every jewel-studded egg that sat encased in glass display boxes fueled my fury.
There was a chance, a small one, that the palace riches had been left alone within these supposedly cursed walls, waiting tobe plundered by the next king. But there was another chance that Iiro had depleted his coffers to put on this show.
Either way, whether he had sacrificed Elk’s future for the sake of the crown, or that he was simply selfish enough to have so much and still demand so much more from us, didn’t matter.
The longer I stood here, the less desire I had to entertain whatever discussions he had planned for his taxes, let alonepaythem.
Rowan stiffened when our men didn’t follow us into the Great Hall, following the steward’s instructions to head to the soldiers’ quarters instead. An itch formed between my shoulder blades when they left, the same one that came whenever I was unarmed.
It was customary when visiting any of the clans not to eat with the soldiers, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Are they expecting all of the clans?” Rowan asked quietly as I led us toward the massive table in the center of the room.
I glared at the table over-laden with food, disgust twisting my stomach when I considered how much would be wasted. It was as if in an effort to show off, Iiro had forgotten he was still a Socairan. Forgotten the value our people—our starving people—placed on food.
“Knowing Iiro, probably not,” I replied just as quietly, helping my wife into her seat before taking mine.
I didn’t miss the way the table was set with far fewer plates than would accommodate all of the clan dukes and their families, nor that we didn’t have a single ally in this room.
After some polite greetings, two large doors made of dark, intricately carved ebony wood swung open to reveal the most pretentious man I had ever met.
I blinked several times, trying to process the new levels of ridiculousness that Iiro seemed to reach every time I saw him. From his heavy brocaded robes to the excessive crown he hadworn to our wedding and the smarmy aalio expression plastered to his features, every part of him exuded audacity and a level of arseholeishness that only he could attain.
“Welcome, Clan Bear,” he greeted us in an overly serene tone.
I wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that my father responded first, greeting him by the title of Majesty, just as Iiro had hoped for.
Was it because he thought he was the former king? Was it because he was determined to lend his support to this man after whatever happened at the Summit?
For better or worse, I had a feeling that I would find out before this visit was over.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
The next morning, my father did not show up to the council room meeting, which already didn’t bode well for the day. Mikhail was sure to comment on his absence, sure to needle at every possible reason behind it, too.
Not for the first time, I wondered what exactly he and the others suspected or knew about my father’s condition.