Page 187 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
She had neatly boxed him into a corner. He couldn’t accuse her of lying. Whatever else I could say for the bastard, he adored his wife. He would never let her hang for treason or be branded aBesklanovvy, both standard punishments for lying to her king.
But she didn’t even have to take that gamble because he stood to lose all that he had worked for if he was undermined by his own wife in his own throne room. Her willingness to lie to him, to thwart his schemes, would only make him look weak.
Not to mention that her father was among his few staunch allies, and the man was unlikely to stand for his daughter’s honor being questioned.
In a few short words, she had upended months of his planning, and I should have felt something at that—amusement or victory or, at the very least, relief. But her motives were a mystery to me, and I didn’t like feeling like I could only see half the pieces in play on the board when the stakes were my clan and my lemmikki.
Iiro turned toward Rowan, unleashing all the fury in his gaze that he had shielded his own wife from.
“And what did the two of you discuss?” he demanded.
It was almost laughable that he was trying to shame the woman who had mocked me about referencing her feminine needs in the first week that I knew her.
Still, she made an admiral attempt to pretend to care.
“I was inquiring after herbs for my…moontime pains,” she said in an undertone, even going so far as to dip her head in a show of shame to sell the lie.
Iiro blinked several times, his mouth contorting with the force of his ire.
“And that conversation took the better part of an hour?” he pressed.
“One thing led to another,” Rowan continued with a shrug. “If his majesty wishes to be informed of every detail of a conversation about my...delicate female matters, I would be happy to oblige.”
A few of the dukes shifted uncomfortably, clearly hoping she wouldn’t, in fact, oblige.
He narrowed his eyes, ice settling into his expression.
“I’m certain that won’t be necessary,” he said, though he continued to stare at her like she had sprouted a new head.
The Duke of Viper cleared his throat. “It seems the investigation will need to continue.”
“Indeed,” Iiro replied flatly.
This was my opportunity to leave. Every instinct in me told me to take it, to take my wife and my men and put as much distance between us and the Obsidian Palace as I could manage.
We might have escaped Iiro’s plot for now, but I had no doubt we had only enraged him further by avoiding his machinations, especially when he was sure to blame Rowan for his wife’s unexpected defense.
“In the meantime,” I spoke up in a voice that carried, “I need to return to Bear with my father’s body to see that the funeral rites are followed. Unless, of course, you have an objection to that.”
Without proof of guilt, he couldn’t deny me this. Funeral rites were sacred, especially for a duke. He had no choice but to let us go.
I knew it, and the dukes knew it, and Iiro storms-damned well knew it, too. It would almost have been satisfying, had the victory not been tainted by the image of my father’s corpse impaled by my wife’s dagger.
“Of course not,” he practically spat the words, dismissing us with a gesture. “You may leave immediately.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Istared back at Iiro, meeting his enraged gaze with my own. My blood boiled in my veins, and even a lifetime of schooling my features was threatening to fail me now.
He had orchestrated this.
I wasn’t sure how, but the amount of anger rolling off of him when his wife lied for us was telling. But he hadn’t been alone.
Though I should have felt relief, my gaze homed in on Ava, still staring furiously at Rowan.
Funny, how my father’s widow seemed more angry than sad.
How she was the only one to have seen him before she went to the sauna, then happened to find him when she returned.