Chapter 69
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
M y cousin’s knock woke me from a deep sleep. Three solid raps. Loud. Urgent.
Dread pooled through my veins as I threw on my robe to answer the door. Sure enough, Taras was on the other side, his mouth set in a grim line. His hair and clothes were disheveled in a way that told me he had been pulled from sleep himself in the same manner.
“What is it?” I asked, bracing myself for his answer.
“Late last night, the duke received word of a rebellion.”
Der’mo.
“Samu offered to lead a contingent of soldiers into Boldegu to handle it,” he added.
Handle it . Bitterness coated my tongue. I could only imagine the sick and twisted gratification he found through whatever method he had chosen to handle it . Of course, Samu had chosen not to alert me. The aalio would never risk me mitigating the extremes to which he would go in order to mete out whatever imagined justice my father’s madness called for.
Taras nodded at whatever he saw in my expression.
“Samu took some of the newer recruits with him, and a few didn’t…approve…of his methods. Two were convinced to obey, but another refused. The sentencing has already been scheduled.”
I clenched my teeth, every muscle in my body going rigid with anger.
Rowan stepped up beside me, her delicate hands sliding around my bicep.
“What happened?” she asked anxiously, her voice still gravelly from sleep.
“A soldier defied my father’s orders,” I answered flatly.
It was the easiest explanation, but one I was sure she understood the gist of. With a nod, I dismissed my cousin. I didn’t need to tell him not to bother returning to his rooms. We both knew that sleep was a luxury we would no longer be afforded tonight.
I ran a hand over my face before turning toward my wife. I needed more information. I needed to speak with the other soldiers before Samu terrified them all into submission. Logically, I knew there wasn’t much I would be able to do to salvage this, but I still needed to try.
“I need to go take care of this,” I said evenly, meeting Rowan’s eyes. Moonlight reflected in her pale-green gaze, her brows furrowed in worry. “There will be a sentencing later this morning. You will need to be there.”
“Of course,” she said quickly, taking a small step closer.
She was eager to be supportive now, but how long would that last when she would be forced to watch me punish a man for not being as sadistic as Samu?
“You should know, the punishment is carried out at the time of sentencing,” I said.
She froze, silently processing that unfortunate bit of information. After several stilted heartbeats, she met my eyes once again.
“All right,” she said, her quiet voice echoing through the room. “Thank you for warning me.”
I dipped my chin once before pressing an appreciative kiss to her forehead. After the incident with the Council of Lords, I trusted her to be more reserved this time. But that didn’t mean she would forgive me when this was over.
After quickly changing, I met Taras outside of my father’s study. I barely lifted my hand to knock on the door when it flew open to reveal my stepmother…and her face was stained with tears.
“ Der’mo ,” my cousin hissed under his breath, and I couldn’t help but return the sentiment.
In all the time I had known her, the closest Ava ever came to an ounce of humanity was the wallowing she did when my father spoke fondly of the woman he had actually loved. Even then, she had never come close to tears .
She pushed past me without so much as a muttered insult or curse, and I didn’t bother to stop her, needing to know what had put her in that state.
I steeled myself, taking a measured breath before entering the room and shutting the door behind me.
Shattered glass littered the floor like twinkling stars. All that was left of my father’s prized vodka collection was soaking into the floorboards, while the liquor cart was in pieces in the corner.
My father sat behind his desk using one elbow to prop up his head, while the other gripped his dead brother’s pocket-watch.
It wasn’t the first time I had found him reliving some distant grief or anger-fueled memory, but this level of destruction was entirely new. I bit back a curse at his worsening condition, at how much more complicated this would make my life, let alone the proceedings today. Judging by the vacant expression in his gaze, my father was hardly going to be a reliable source of information.
“Konstantin?” His weak voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Brother,” he added, stumbling as he tried to stand. “They—they told me you were dead.”
I blinked, my fists clenching at my sides, unable to play pretend with the man who likely couldn’t remember who Samu was or that he had sent him to destroy yet another village. Or that his only son would be responsible for piecing together the wreckage of his clan—a clan their duke himself was destroying a little more with each passing day.
Confusion crumpled my father’s features and he shook his head, as if that would clear it from his most recent bout of insanity.
He looked around the room, his face reddening as he took in the disarray.
“What—?” he began, the question dying on his lips when his gaze once again landed on me. “Konstantin?”
Taras stepped between us, cutting off my line of vision.
“Go, Van,” he said quietly. “See what you can learn from the barracks. I’ll take care of Aleksander.”
I dipped my chin once, not bothering to look back at the madman who couldn’t even be held accountable for the atrocities he’d ordered in the night. And then I turned to leave the room, ordering one of the soldiers in the hall to fetch the healer.
Fury weighed down each of my limbs as I marched toward the Great Hall. There had been nothing I could do to subvert the order, no time I could buy for the man who had done little, other than refuse to bow to Samu’s sadism.
By all accounts and what little I knew of him personally, Vasily was a good soldier. He had joined later, having been granted an exception to care for his ailing father. But he was a loyal citizen. A faithful husband. Obedient son. And yet, here we were.
I stood outside the imposing doors where nearly every one of our soldiers and the visiting courtiers were already waiting.
Dread and anticipation filled the air like smoke, choking the air in my lungs. The sound of delicate footsteps echoed through the halls, each one echoing through me like the ticking of a clock.
When they stopped, Rowan slipped her arm through mine, squeezing my bicep once, letting me know she was there. I brushed my hand over hers once, acknowledging her support in the only way I could. But I didn’t turn to look at her. I couldn’t.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the expression she wouldn’t quite manage to hide.
Kirill fell in step behind us as I signaled to the guards to open the doors.
I ignored the echoing sobs from Vasily’s wife, and the pointed glares cast in my direction when I was the one to approach the judgment seat instead of my father.
There was a part of me that wondered just how much worse things would get if I cast a light on his madness. If I didn’t allow him to hide away in his chambers whenever his mind slipped, if I forced him to sacrifice his pride the way he sacrificed our people.
But then I remembered every logical reason I had for enduring his madness the way that I had. Every reason I played the role of judge and jury, of executioner and host. An all-out war would risk the lives of everyone.
I reminded myself that I was helping more of my people by staying his hand where and when I could, by keeping the dukes from fighting for territory and stealing the few resources we had stored away for our people.
I hoped my wife would understand those things as well.
Silently, I took my seat in front of the hearth at the head of the room. Rowan stood at my right, while Taras stood at my left. Bear soldiers and courtiers framed the three long walls in front of us, each of them staring blankly at the man in the center of the room.
Vasily stood with his shoulders squared, his wrists and ankles chained together. His carefully neutral expression faltered slightly whenever his wife’s sobs grew too pained. I glanced over at her and the swollen belly that indicated she was with child.
I blinked, and suddenly, she had wild crimson curls and perfectly bowed lips and it was my child she carried.
It was as much a relief as it was grating when Samu stepped up behind Vasily, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Speak,” I ordered coolly.
Samu’s mouth curled up in a vile grin as he expounded on the events of last night, naming Vasily as a traitor.
“What were the orders?” I asked, because it was expected of me, though I already knew the answer.
“To rid the village of Boldegu of any remaining rebels, regardless of their age,” Samu said, his soulless gaze locking on mine as he waited for a reaction.
Far too often, the cries of women and children haunted me, filling my mind with the last sound they made before I added them to the long list of lives I had claimed.
Whenever I could, I tried to save my men from those particular orders, but we all had blood on our hands. We were all guilty of taking lives that weren’t ours, even when those lives were too young, too innocent.
Well, all of us except for the man chained before me.
“Were there any witnesses?” This would be his one saving grace. If there was even a single shred of doubt about his willingness to follow orders?—
Samu nodded, effectively cutting off my thought. “I witnessed his disobedience myself, along with several other soldiers in his regiment.”
Der’mo.
I could prolong the process, force Samu to produce the witnesses, but I had a feeling he expected as much and had prepared them for that very thing.
So, instead, I searched Vasily’s features.
“How do you plead?” I asked, already sensing the resolve in his expression.
Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath, the air pulled taut like a bowstring stretched too far.
“Guilty,” he said as evenly as he could.
With that one word, the tension snapped, flooding the room with the weight of his admission.
“You understand the punishment for directly defying the orders of your duke?” I asked.
He flinched at the wordless cry of his wife, his eyes squeezing shut as he nodded.
Was it worth it to him?
The children in Boldegu were still dead. His own might follow, left to wander with the Unclanned just as winter fell. Was the single stance on principle worth avoiding the stain on his soul, even as the casualties of his righteousness piled atop each other still?
“The sentencing is as follows: Vasily Lenkov, you are hereby stripped of your title, your estate, and your affiliation with Clan Bear. You will live out the rest of your days Unclanned. ”
I stood, bracing myself for the reaction of my wife as I made my way toward the hearth. But Rowan didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. There were no sounds of protest or accusatory glares or pleading requests on his behalf.
It certainly made things easier—for now—but I knew better than to imagine this was the end of it.
Sliding my hand into the thick fabric of the forge glove, I lifted the black iron rod from the flames.
My footsteps echoed through the hall, a backdrop of sound to the cries of Vasily’s wife increasing as I approached him.
“Your household can choose to follow you,” I said flatly, repeating the words I’d said too many times before. “Or depend upon the hospitality of relatives, but they are no longer welcome at your estate and will be stripped of their titles and belongings as well. Do you understand this sentencing as it has been laid out before you?”
Vasily swallowed and gave a single dip of his chin.
With a gesture, I motioned for Pavel and Isaak to restrain his wife. Then I lifted the brand and pressed it firmly against his forehead.
Though Unclannings were uncommon, I was more familiar than I wanted to be with the pungent odor of burning flesh, the distinctive sound of skin melting against the glowing iron. What was entirely new was experiencing those things while my new wife observed for the first time.
The wife who already struggled not to see me as a monster.
Murder any children lately? she had once wanted to know. Would she add this to the list, mentally tallying how many times I had wielded a brand instead of an executioner’s sword on behalf of laws she disagreed with on principle?
I didn’t have to wonder what side of this moral quandary she would have fallen on. She would have faced the brand down every time, to hell with the consequences.
So when I finally handed the brand off, turning to face my lemmikki, I knew that there was every chance she already hated me. I held my hand out to her like I had no doubt that she would take it, even as I met her tumultuous gaze. Half a heartbeat passed while she schooled every one of her features, then she drew her shoulders back and wrapped her arm around mine.
Her fingers squeezed just as they had before. Once again, I placed my hand over hers, though this time I grasped a little more tightly.
So many times, I had walked out of this room alone, and I had been half-convinced I would have to do it again today. But however she felt, whatever her personal feelings on the matter were, she stood tall as she walked at my side.
Trusting me, just as I had asked her to do.
I wondered if she was regretting agreeing to that now.