Page 216 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

They probably still smelled like her, not to mention the endless number of her things that still littered the room.

“Tell me what happened.” Taras pulled me from my thoughts once I had shut the door.

I should have known he wouldn’t give up that easily. He had always been pushy where she was concerned. Though I never thought I’d miss the days when he casually suggested that wedispose of her; that would have been easier to deal with than the open censure in his features now.

I paused, steeling myself as I met his glare with one of my own. The strain of fatherhood and an impending war must have given him a newfound audacity.

“I left her at an inn with Korhonan.” I said the words far more casually than I felt.

My cousin blinked in disbelief, and several beats of silence passed between us until he finally breathed out one single word. “Der’mo.”

I swallowed back a wave of bile and fury as I thought of the villagers Iiro had left strung up along the road for my soldiers to find. The men, women, and children’s bodies he’d used as an example of what was to come, his cruel imagination fueling new and creative ways to display them each time.

“She was going to be a target for Iiro,” I said, watching as understanding dawned on his features. “Korhonan was the only one who could get her across the border. And the only one I trusted to keep her safe.”

He was silent for several long moments, his fists clenching at his sides before he finally nodded.

“That’s certainly an interesting turn of events,” he continued in his usual, more reserved tone. My cousin paused for another beat, then looked back up at me, eyes narrowed. “What did she think of the plan?”

I ran an uncomfortable hand over the light stubble on my jaw.

“Well…” I began, examining one of the bear pawns on the command table. “I left her a note.”

Taras’s brow rose as he digested that information. Finally, he shook his head silently before a small, dry laugh escaped him.

“I wouldn’t want to be Korhonan right now. Or you, at the end of this,” he tacked on.

A bitter, only slightly amused huff of air left me as I imagined the hell she would rain down on Korhonan. But, while my wife excelled atgettingangry, she didn’t generally stay that way for long. Besides, anger was something she could only feel while she was alive.

And as much as I despised sending her away, I refused to accept any world that didn’t include her in it. I said as much to Taras.

“Assuming I even live through this, at least she’ll be alive to be mad.” I placed the pawn back down on the table, right in the center of Bear Palace. “You would do the same thing for Mila.”

As much as Iiro took pleasure in the needless slaughter of villagers, he wouldn’t dream of hurting a noblewoman from his own kingdom. Evenhisbloodlust had the boundaries of propriety to fall back on—just not where my Lochlannian wife was concerned.

Taras tilted his head to the side as if he were weighing the truth of my words. Then with a sigh, he added, “I would tell her, at least.”

I shot him a look, raising one eyebrow. “That’s because Mila would still go if you explained it. Have you met Rowan?”

“Yes.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Yes, I have.”

Finally, his shoulders fell, acceptance settling in. He clapped me on the back in a single show of support that I pretended not to notice.

Even if it did ease something inside me, not having to fight a war on two fronts.

CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

The world was too quiet.

While the frontlines of battle in the West had been filled with chaos and bloodshed, fatigued silences occasionally punctuated them. Ones where soldiers on both sides could gather their strength to fight another day.

It was eerie, knowing we were catching our breath along with our enemy, knowing we would be trying to rob them of it the next day.

But those moments of quiet were nothing compared to the blanket of silence that fell over Bear Estate in the hours before the siege.

Tension poisoned the air, stealing the words from courtiers and servants alike as we prepared the palace. No one spoke above a whisper, as if they were afraid the sound of their voices would hasten the coming war.

Or maybe it was the distinct absence ofherthat made the air so somber.