Page 3 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

King Logan hadn’t been the one to reach out to her, Davin had, having somehow rooted out the Lochlannian spy in Elk to assist him. It wasn’t exactly surprising, not when I remembered the calculating gleam in his too-observant gaze at our failed negotiations with Elk, so unlike that of his willfully oblivious cousin.

But I wouldn’t think about that right now.

Taras was silent, leaning against the cold stone wall, allowing me time to parse through the information until I was ready to act on it. My tone was pitched low when I finally spoke.

“We will need Taisiya’s cooperation to pretend that Rowan is still here while we work out a way to make it known that she isn’t. Send Dmit—” I stopped, a sharp pang stilling my tongue.

Dmitriy was gone. Igor was gone.

Taras swallowed but said nothing. I hadn’t asked him how the death call on Igor’s family went, because the answer was obvious; they were always a special kind of hell. Which was whyI felt reluctant to pull Kirill back in so soon after, when he was supposed to enjoying a rare reprieve with his wife.

All we could do was move forward without them. And withouther.

I mentally scanned through the remaining men I trusted. Taking a breath, I went on as though nothing had happened.

“Send Henrick to the villages to find someone who is already marked for death.”

My father would be out for blood when he found out the princess was gone. We could mitigate some of that if we had a body on hand, someone to take the initial surge of the blame.

Taras effortlessly followed my line of reasoning, nodding.

“How soon?” he asked.

I would need time to lay the groundwork on my end of things. The tunnels were several days’ ride from here in the snow, and it would be prudent to wait until the Lochlannians were back on their side of the mountain. In the old war reports, the soldiers had made it through the tunnels in just around three days. More recently, the man I had sent to assess the cave-in after the Summit had reported that it took him only two days, but he was also a trained runner, which was something to be taken into account.

“At least a week,” I answered.

“I’ll tell Kirill to end his leave around the same time.” There was a hint of a question in his tone, but not much. We would need all of our trusted men around for whatever the fallout might be.

Especially now that we were down two.

I took another deep breath, subtle and controlled.

“When you’re finished, get some rest,” I ordered.

He had gone straight to the nearby village to speak with Igor’s family once we’d arrived back at the estate, and that would have taken some time with Kirill in tow, since the latter wouldhave insisted on staying to tell stories and grieve with the family. My cousin couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, if that.

“As you will?” he countered.

“Once I’m finished here,” I lied.

He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t argue. We both knew I wouldn’t sleep tonight. There wasn’t time, and I had no desire to be back in my bedroom just now—I had a feeling my cousin knew as much.

Taras left to carry out his orders and I returned to question Taisiya further, dismissing Yuriy when I entered.

She was unsecured, as I’d left her, sitting on the edge of her bed, her back ramrod straight. Her dark eyes brimmed with accusation and something maybe even a little more sinister that had me wondering just how skilled she was with a blade.

Though, if she had wanted to hurt me, she would have done that by now—likely a very long time ago. She also knew that doing so was a quick way to put her royals in danger.

That loyalty was key to her continued cooperation, which was necessary for the ruse to keep my father—or my stepmother—from finding out about Rowan’s absence.

During the first round of our little interrogation, I had focused on the specifics of how King Logan came to be skulking around my stables. This time, I needed to ask her a different set of questions.

“You are not Lochlannian.” I was intentionally blunt, trying to see what reaction I might garner.

Sure enough, her eyes flared. “I am Lochlannian in every way that matters.”

I tilted my head, studying her, and considered her choice of wording. Her skin was swarthy, with the olive undertone that was unique to our people, and her eyes and cheekbones arched in the same familiar way that was common in this kingdom.