Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
M y father’s wrath was everything I had expected. And it came just as swiftly.
Blood seeped into my gloves, crimson staining the midnight leather.
We keep as many of our people safe as we can, however we can. No one can take that from us, not even him.
I tried to take solace in Dmitriy’s words, in his memory. But Dmitriy was just as dead as the bodies piling up in the snow.
As dead as I was starting to feel with each new order that came down from my merciless father. My duke.
I turned away from the massacre, taking solace in the fact that this should, at least, be the last of it for a while. Guests would begin arriving tomorrow for Taras's wedding. That would distract my father until our palace was no longer crawling with the scrutinizing gazes of the other clan leaders—at least, that was what I was betting on.
He would be fighting harder than normal to maintain his facade of sanity.
But it would take all of us to pull off that ruse, even my disgusting stepmother, as much as I loathed the idea of working with her for any reason.
“My Lord,” one of the newer soldiers called, pulling me from my thoughts. Vysotsky was his surname, which I remembered because he was so desperate to prove himself.
“Speak,” I said, not in the mood for whatever this boy had to say, and he immediately stood at attention.
“I see footprints leading away from the gate,” he gestured eagerly toward the tracks in the distance. “Several must have escaped.”
Der’mo .
And this was why I typically only brought my own men on these missions, but my father had left me little choice this time. With any of it.
“I took care of that already,” Kirill spoke up, his jaw clenching.
His nostrils flared, a clear indicator that he was lying. I knew it, and he knew that I knew it. But the brand-new soldier who was so very eager to hunt down and slaughter his own people was blissfully unaware, so he only nodded.
“Good,” I said. “Light the pyre, then let’s head out.”
To the general surprise of no one, Vysotsky volunteered. Would he tire of this eventually? Realize there was neither honor nor glory in what we did here today?
Or was he one of the ones who would develop a hunger for it over time, the power of hunting easy prey, like a man shooting a bird in a cage? A Samu in the making.
He lit the fire, and before I could see the smoke blackening the sky, I steered my horse away. I had worked my entire life to keep my people safe, but at the rate my father was going, the only thing left to rule over would be a pile of ashes.
Sir Arès was the first to arrive, along with his daughter.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, quietly, while Taras greeted Mila with a supreme amount of awkwardness.
Was it a reminder that Lynx had spies, that he knew I had only recently returned from a slew of unnecessary executions?
Or did he mean that I had been busy covering for Rowan’s…departure?
Whatever he knew or suspected, I couldn’t give him confirmation. Ally or not, he was still the duke of another clan, and those were secrets that could get us all killed.
“There is always much to do for the clan, as you know,” I responded noncommittally.
Arès’ eyes narrowed slightly in response, but I kept my expression neutral and gestured for us to move toward the main doors of the palace.
“And how are relations with our neighbors?” he pushed, falling into step beside me.
“Good,” I lied. “I have plans to send Taras and Mila to negotiate trade after their wedding, actually.”
That part was true, at least, assuming there wasn’t already an army gathering on the other side of the pass. Arès knew the likelihood of that as well as I did, though. No need to point it out now.
“An excellent choice,” the Duke of Lynx said, his lips tilting with approval.
I wondered if he was considering the intentionality behind sending the two people who were least likely to be turned away. Mila was gracious enough to offer her help in negotiations, and Taras was intimately familiar with the needs of the clan.
And if they were well-positioned to keep an eye on things in Lochlann and ensure none of the dukes forgot that the princess belonged to me, well, that was a happy bonus.
My father awaited us inside the doors. Physically, he played his part well, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his chin tilted up to give him a better angle with which to look down on everyone around him.
But mentally, he was existing in that disorienting fog where he couldn’t trust his own thoughts. He wasn’t quite living in the past, but he wasn’t fully in the present either. Ava stood at his side, her thin arm laced through his, like she was a physical anchor, helping him to fake his way through it.
It didn’t stop me from imagining the many ways she might eventually meet her demise, but it was marginally better than the alternative, a world in which the clans discovered my father’s weakness at the very event designed to lend us strength.
We walked a precarious line, and today was the easiest of the greetings. Lynx was our new ally.
Tomorrow, we would welcome the enemies at our door.
Tomorrow, Elk would arrive.