Chapter 79
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
W hile I was accustomed to death, in all of its forms, escorting my father’s body back home was something else entirely.
We were making good time since we weren’t bothering to stop for any longer than needed. And though there were a thousand things to consider, to worry about, to plan for, I couldn’t make myself focus on any of them for long.
My mind refused to focus, my thoughts like scattered leaves in a windstorm, spinning just out of reach before I could grasp them.
Logically, I knew there were things to plan for. Between the funeral and the finer details that would be involved in taking over as Duke, there was also the looming threat of whatever retaliation Iiro was plotting.
I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe he was just done with us. Especially not after the lengths he had gone to in order to kill my father. For it all to come to nothing right in front of him… Well, he wouldn’t allow that to stand.
Rowan gripped my hand, squeezing lightly in an effort to offer some small comfort. Distantly, I registered the warmth of her skin and the way those jade eyes of hers bored into the side of my face.
She was trying to give me space to process it all, but I could feel her tension, her worry, and the way she was barely restraining herself from asking what came next.
But instead of giving her an answer or considering what the hell we were going to do, all I could think about was the extra wagon attached to our carriage and the lifeless body it carried.
I hadn’t brought myself to look at his corpse since we’d left the palace. The memories of my father while he was alive were hard enough, and yet, somehow, the memories of his death were worse.
Each time I closed my eyes, I saw his blood on my hands, the way his skin was already turning a mottled shade of blue.
And it would be worse by the time we made it back to Bear Estate.
We had taken every precaution to delay the inevitable. After cleaning him up, we wrapped him in thick cloths soaked in herbal oils to help postpone the decaying process and to mask the odor, but that would only get us so far.
And while Rowan assured me that the weather would only be getting colder—a small mercy—we were still doing our best to make our way back to Bear before things got worse.
Once we crossed the border into our territory, I knew something was wrong.
Rowan felt it too. Her entire body went rigid when we stopped around midday to water the horses. We got out of the carriage to stretch our legs like we always did, but this time, I couldn’t shake the feeling of…wrongness.
Dread anchored itself inside of me, clinging to my bones like rust to an ancient iron blade.
I scanned the hillsides for any sign of Besklanovvy , but there was nothing. Then I pointedly met my wife’s gaze, looking between her and the sky.
She closed her eyes briefly before giving a small shake of her head.
No incoming weather then, either.
Finally, I made my way over to Kirill and Henrick. Perhaps we would need to break away from the funeral procession to get home faster.
We had just decided on which of the soldiers we would take with us when a flash of crimson danced in the distance.
No.
I didn’t think, didn’t breathe before my swords were in my hands and I was spinning around, making my way back toward my wife.
One heartbeat had been too many to take my eyes off of her, to allow her to walk away when I could feel the threat in the air like I could feel poison in my veins.
My feet carried me forward, my gaze locked on Orik, the svoloch marked for death and the dagger he held to my wife’s throat.
I barely registered the soldier who stepped in between us with his weapon drawn, cleanly severing his head from his shoulders as I made my way forward, never stopping.
Anyone who dared to step between me and my wife while she was in danger was my enemy.
“Unless you want her to die, Stepson, now would be a good time to stop,” Ava’s voice raked over my skin like ice.
“Don’t—” Rowan called out before hissing in pain.
I froze, staring at the river of red that bloomed from the dagger, steadily seeping into the fabric of her gown.
A wave of absolute fury crashed over me.
All I could see was red. All I could feel was hate. All I knew was that I would destroy him, would rip out his throat with my teeth and string up whatever was left of his body as a warning to every bastard who even thought of hurting my wife again.
And yet, that would have to wait.
I let out a slow breath, lowering my weapon and turning my head to face my stepmother.
“What is it that you hope to gain here?” I asked, injecting my tone with every ounce of the calmness I did not feel before addressing the aalio holding my wife. “And you, turning your weapon on a Clan Wife?”
Neither of them answered. Instead, it was Samu who stepped forward, blocking Ava from view as he spat on the ground.
“You killed the rightful duke,” he said, his voice full of accusation. “You have no right to call yourself the heir, and if you are not the heir, then she is nothing.”
Nothing.
The word echoed in my head, stoking the flames of my anger again and again. She was far from nothing .
She was everything .
I cracked my neck to loosen some of the rage inside me, knowing that I had to maintain some semblance of calm if I wanted to keep my lemmikki safe. In my periphery, I watched as Samu’s words settled over the men, registered the handful that took his words to heart, and the majority who took nearly as much offense as I had.
It was clear now that Samu and Ava had wanted to turn the men against me, but they had underestimated my feral princess entirely.
While they were busy hating her and plotting her demise, they had missed the respect Rowan had earned from the soldiers, and their protectiveness of her.
It wasn’t just the small group of men I trusted most, either. It was the men she had proven herself to in the sparring ring, the ones she’d begun to joke with and tease just like she did Kirill, Yuriy, and Henrick. It was the soldiers who were scandalized by her presence there before they were awed by it. By her.
Several of them reached for their weapons but I held up a hand to stop them.
“No one moves while my wife is in danger,” I warned them, not bothering to take my eyes off of Ava when I spoke next. “And we both know I am not the one who killed the duke.”
It had taken me longer than I would have preferred to understand that. Somewhere between Iiro’s schemes and the violent urge I had to protect my wife, the looming war and our tenuous relationship with our allies, I had missed the signs.
I considered my time at the palace all over again. The way Iiro had allowed Mairi’s real name to slip past his lips. Their quiet scheming. The show of support in the throne room. All of it came together like jagged pieces of a puzzle.
I allowed that truth to hang in the air, to settle over the soldiers and fuel their anger while I contemplated a way to get my wife out of Orik’s hands.
Pavel was the best shot, but Samu’s men were watching him closely. He wouldn’t be able to nock an arrow before Orik marred more of my lemmikki’s perfect skin.
I had a small throwing dagger in my sleeve, but was faced with the same problem, especially with Samu watching me so closely.
For now, until I could guarantee her safety, I wouldn’t be able to fight my way out of this. And the smug look on Ava’s face told me that was exactly what she had planned.
“What is it that you want, Stepmother?” I asked.
“It’s not about what I want so much as what the king wants,” she said, her tone indifferent and a far cry from the grieving widow she played at the palace. “But I won’t deny that this brings me joy.”
Of course, I had known on some level that she was working with Iiro, but her admission now was enough to ignite my wrath all over again.
“And what is it that our illustrious king wants?” I bit out each word of the question.
A knowing grin tugged at the corner of her thin mouth. “For you to pay for the sins of your crime, of course.”
My crime…
My crimes were many. My soul stained red with the blood of the lives I had taken. But when I faced whatever judgment came for me between this life and the next one, this was one transgression I was not guilty of.
My mind raced through our final moments at the Obsidian Palace. Ava’s scream. Her blood-soaked hands and gown. Iiro’s assured expression when he thought he’d trapped us. Had he wanted my father out of the way to get to me? To frame me for his death? To prove a point to the other dukes about how much power he held?
Or was it that he was afraid of the power I wielded instead? I hadn’t made it a secret that I disagreed with his demands, but did he know that I was actively working against him? Removing my father would certainly make it easier to get to me.
But why would Ava help? Why, when being a Clan Wife was the one thing that kept her safe?
“And what do you get out of this?” I finally asked.
“Besides justice, you mean?” she scoffed. “Protection, since you and your whore of a wife have both threatened me. A Clan Wife.”
She placed a hand on her chest dramatically, and my fists clenched around the hilts of my sabers.
The memory of her leaving my father’s study after he destroyed it, the escalation of his decline. She knew she only had so much time left. So instead of waiting for him to die and taking her chances with me as the duke, she chose to remove all three of us in one blow.
“You can’t hope to win with a handful of men,” Rowan called out, her words cutting off with a gasp as Orik squeezed her tighter.
The muscles in my biceps twitched as I imagined every way I would make him suffer for deigning to touch my wife.
“On the contrary,” Ava responded evenly. “Evander is going to order his men to stand down.”
Kirill growled from behind me while Henrick spat on the ground, his grip tightening around his sword. They would fight with me, to the death, if that’s what it took.
I knew it. Ava knew it. Orik and Samu knew it, too.
“There’s no reason to bring the wrath of Lochlann down on us for killing you unless we have to,” Ava continued, looking to her great-niece. “And my stepson understands that. Don’t you?”
She also knew that I would do anything to keep my wife safe. It had been one thing lying to my father and the other dukes about my relationship with Rowan. But Ava had been watching more closely.
She saw the one thing in this world that I cared about more than anything else. The one light in my eternal darkness, and she would take it from me. She would hurt her to hurt me more.
I looked away from the woman I despised with every fiber of my being to focus on the one I couldn’t live without.
Piercing green eyes focused on mine. She shook her head slightly, realization washing over her like an icy ocean wave.
“No,” she said, the agony in her voice threatening to crush me where I stood.
“Yes,” I responded evenly. She had to know there was no other option for me when it came to her safety.
I turned back toward my stepmother before speaking again. “Let her go, and I’ll come with you. My men will escort her back to the estate, safely.”
Ava’s thin mouth stretched into a violent grin. She cackled, the sound like iron nails raking over my bones.
“The king wants her back at the Obsidian Palace as well,” she said. “And your men will come, too, to ensure they can be kept in line.”
“I’ll go,” Rowan said quickly, her panicked gaze darting between whatever she saw in my expression and my stepmother’s cruel features.
“I’m not leaving you,” she added, desperation lining her words. “And she’s right, he has more to lose by hurting me than he stands to gain.”
I gripped the hilt of my sabers even tighter, damning Iiro and Ava for putting us in this position. Damning myself for not seeing how easily they had led us from one trap to another. Iiro hadn’t fought nearly hard enough to keep us there, but I had been too distracted to notice, too relieved to care.
Ava nodded at Orik, and he dug his blade into Rowan’s skin even deeper. She hissed, a single tear spilling down her cheek as she braced herself against the pain.
“Stop,” I roared. “I’ll do it.”
There had been few times in my life where rage had overtaken me so thoroughly, so completely. My muscles were vibrating with the force of my anger, my pulse racing under my skin like liquid flames.
I barely registered Ava’s delighted tone as she ordered my flogging. Barely registered my wife’s feral cry as she screamed in outrage.
Instead, I focused on each of my movements, the methodical process of sheathing my sabers before removing my double baldric. With one last look at my lemmikki, I slowly turned away from her to walk to the massive elm tree on the other side of the clearing, forcing Samu and Ava to turn toward me.
And away from Rowan.
My stepmother beamed as she handed a leather whip to Samu. There was something animalistic in her wild eyes as she tracked each of my movements.
I rested my weapons at the base of the tree. Next, I removed my coat and tunic, neatly folding them before laying them over one of the branches.
Then I braced myself against the elm’s trunk, looking for all the world like I was obeying her command. Like I was cowed and beaten and ready to surrender.
I wanted Ava to think she had won. I wanted Samu to throw everything he had into this flogging. I wanted them to be so caught up in this victory of theirs that they couldn’t see the furious resolve of my vengeful wife.
My skin was numb, my mind singularly focused on the design of Rowan’s gown and the left pocket that gave her access to her prized dagger.
I barely heard the crack of the whip. Barely felt the way it bit into my scarred flesh or the wet, warm blood that pooled down my back.
Another crack of the whip, and another while I imagined carving Samu’s eyes from his head. Another crack and I could practically hear Ava’s scream while I broke every bone, first in her hands, then her feet.
The fifth crack made my vision go black for a moment, but I held firm, refusing to allow my lemmikki to see me shudder in pain.
Right after the sixth crack of the whip, the shouting began.
I spun around to find Rowan standing over Orik, blood soaking her hands as she carved a deep line through his torso before pulling her dagger free.
Good girl.
My muscles spasmed as I reached for my sabers. I turned to watch the blood drain from Ava’s face while all hell broke loose around her.
A cruel laugh rumbled through me as I watched Rowan race across the clearing, her hair whipping behind her like crimson flames as she caught up to my stepmother.
This was no sparring ring, and there was no holding back. She reached out to grab her by the hair, using her hold on it to slam her into the ground.
A flash of silver caught my eye, and I instinctively raised my saber in time to block Samu’s hit. My muscles were sluggish, my weapons heavier than they had been before, but I forced myself to parry and fight, using my adrenaline to keep moving.
Samu’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile when I stumbled after blocking him from an overhead strike. I had just enough time to curse under my breath before Kirill came barreling into my line of vision. He crashed into Samu like a battering ram of vengeance.
The svoloch gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs, his sword falling from his grasp and just out of reach.
I glanced back at my lemmikki to find her sitting on Ava’s torso, using her muscular thighs to pin down her great-aunt’s arms.
Henrick was standing close by, his weapon drawn as he watched my wife mete out whatever justice she deemed appropriate.
When I turned my attention back to Kirill, he was holding a blade to Samu’s throat and kicking his weapon even farther away from him.
Keeping Rowan in my line of sight, I stepped closer to Samu.
His dark eyes were wild, but he didn’t try to move. Judging by the way he was breathing, the soft wheezes whistling past his split lips and the hand clutching his chest, he had at least broken a rib in his fall. Maybe even punctured a lung.
Good.
I wanted this to be as painful for him as possible. I placed my boot on his chest, leaning down to let him feel my full weight on that broken rib.
He groaned in pain, his free hand wrapping around my ankle. Kirill pressed his blade more firmly against Samu’s throat in warning.
“A long time ago, I made myself a promise,” I began, speaking just loud enough for him to hear each word. “Or really, I made you a promise.”
He coughed, the sound thick and wet with the blood that was filling his lungs.
“For years I have wanted to kill you, but it wasn’t until recently that I decided how,” I added, glancing from his wide eyes to the tip of my saber. “It wasn’t until you hurt my lemmikki, peeled her flesh from her bones with your whip, that I decided you would suffer more than I had made anyone suffer before.”
Samu tried to speak, but I leaned on him harder, effectively cutting off words I had no desire to hear. “And I want you to know, that no matter what else I do in life, no matter what comes next, for as long as I live, little else will bring me the satisfaction that I feel right now.”
Without another word, I removed my foot, relishing the pained gasp that escaped him as I pulled my dagger from my boot and slammed it first into the tendon between his neck and shoulder, then before bringing it down again, right against his kidney.
I brought my dagger down on him twelve times in the most painful spots I could think of. For the thirteenth strike, I slammed the dagger through the bottom of his jaw to seal his mouth shut.
I moved quickly, despite the open wounds on my back, and Samu hadn’t even had an opportunity to cry out before his mouth was locked shut.
Thirteen. The number of lashes he had given Rowan, the number that nearly killed her. But it wasn’t enough.
My hand was slick with blood as I lifted my saber next, adding another seventeen to bring his total stab wounds to thirty, the number of lashes he had intended to inflict on my wife.
I focused on the places that were painful, but not lethal, wanting to make sure he felt every single second of my vengeance.
Each time I brought my sword down on his frozen body, each time he spasmed and choked, each time he felt the full weight of my wrath, I felt a little better.
Of all the lessons my father had taught me, I had never been more grateful to know the art of torture, of knowing every place on the human body that brought the most pain.
Maybe I was a monster, just like my father. Just like Samu. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret that right now. Not yet.
When Samu was little more than a bloody stump, the life slowly oozing from his body with each failing heartbeat, I used my foot to turn his head toward Ava.
Blood spluttered past his lips as he tried to cough.
“My final gift to you,” I said quietly, pointing to where Rowan was holding her gleaming siren dagger over my stepmother’s prone form. “You get to live long enough to watch my wife kill the person you couldn’t protect.”
Of all the endings I could have planned for Samu, this one was even more satisfying than I could have imagined. And he would sure as storms never hurt my lemmikki again.