Page 217 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

There was no joy or card games with the soldiers, no breakfasts in bed or quick wit to slice through the tension, and no laughter to fill the bleak halls.

It wasn’t just death that loomed around us; it was the absence of life. Of the life that only she could bring to this place.

I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt it, either. But there wasn’t time to entertain the questioning glances that Pavel and Henrick and Yuriy shot my way. Or the more judgmental ones from Mila and Kirill.

Taisiya seemed to be the only one who didn’t hate me for sending Rowan away. Maybe it was because she knew she was safer this way, or maybe it was because her princess was returning to Lochlann where she felt my lemmikki belonged.

Regardless, she dutifully continued to care for our rooms—rooms I still couldn’t bring myself to return to—along with feeding both Boris and me.

She even went so far as to place plates full of food on top of the work pile in front of me if I ignored it for too long, not caring that she was irritating me, something I imagined she’d picked up from my wife.

So, I forced myself to eat while continuing to do everything in my power to plan for the siege.

I utilized every available option at our disposal, taking care to close up loose ends and make sure we weren’t making ourselves easy prey. Which included pouring over my father’s old journals, the ones that detailed his plan of attack on Chridhe.

I took care to protect us from the many weaknesses he exposed of the H’Rian castle, knowing Nils would likely use similar tactics since they had strategized together.

I removed as many options from him as possible, eliminating any chance of him gaining an upper hand.

Including evacuating some of the local villages into the country. When and where we could, we gathered the remaining supplies and tools before setting fire to everything else.

Another effective tactic my father had employed was conquering villages and using them to establish roots near thecastle, so I would limit that opportunity as much as possible for our enemies. I would worry about the rebuilding efforts if we survived this war.

Then there was the estate itself. The palace was well-fortified, but we wouldn’t be able to rely on the safety of these walls forever.

With Ram’s forces joining the war, they would be bringing the explosive powders they used in their mines.

I calculated how long it would take for Mikhail’s soldiers to reach our gates, and from there, how long it would take to breach them, if Nil’s and Iiro’s forces hadn’t already done that for him.

As the hours stretched on, I considered this war from all sides, doing everything I could to plan for and protect my clan. From a logistical standpoint, we were as ready as we could be.

But then I scanned the faces of my soldiers standing on the battlements, fully armed while they watched our allies' troops move closer. Many of the faces that came into view were recognizable—men we had known throughout the years. Men who had first become comrades. Then, friends.

The gray-and-white flag raised over their heads was like salt in an open wound. How many decades had Wolf been our allies? How many times had we come to their aid, had we celebrated with their clan?

Anger—the kind that always seemed to be there, under the surface—warmed my skin, filling me once again with determination to fight, if only to make every man marching toward us regret the day they swore fealty to a traitor.

Several furious breaths clouded the frozen air around me. The sound of iron weapons clinked against armor as my men adjusted their grips or shifted on impatient feet.

Maybe this rage would be all the motivation we needed to win this war.

CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR

The siege was going about how we had expected it to. Only worse.

Wolf’s and Elk’s troops came in with deadly force, bolstered by the news that the Western Front was failing and Ram was advancing by the day.

We would be lucky to survive the week.

Red lined my vision as I thought over the few options we had left. I would kill Nils for this—if I survived long enough to do it.

The only thing I had to be grateful about was that Rowan was far, far away from all of it. She would be nearing the tunnels soon and well on her way back to Castle Chridhe by the end of the week.

Even if there wasn’t a single place in this storms-blasted castle that didn’t remind me of her.

Even if I couldn’t go five minutes without picturing her wicked smirk or the way her body felt pressed against mine.

Even if I could hardly look at Mila without realizing how deeply I had let myself want that with Rowan, how I had imagined the flat planes of her stomach growing round while her substantial temper grew even worse.