House of Judges (House of Royals Book 4) Read online

  Markov stands, his eyes glowing deep and ember-like. The anger is obvious on his face. He looks around the room, desperate but unsure of what to do. He whispers something in Christian’s ear, and he just gives a shrug.

  “Five seconds, gentlemen,” Alexa warns.

  “I told you, he’s not coming,” Samuel whispers again as he argues with Christian and Markov.

  Who else is left to speak in my defense?

  Who are they all getting so angry about?

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but whomever you’re waiting for is obvious—”

  “My apologies for being late.” A calm and even voice instantly commands the room.

  And my dead heart suddenly skips back to life.

  My eyes rise from the floor to find Rath walking down the aisle toward me. His own, however, do not search out mine.

  “I had a little problem with the guards at the entryway to the castle,” he says as he takes the stand. He’s dressed in an all black suit. His serious eyes don’t seem to look directly at anyone. He shrugs his shoulders, straightening his jacket.

  “Please state your name for the courtroom,” Alexa says. She’s obviously irritated at the bump in schedule and how she runs her trial.

  “Rath,” he says simply, as if he truly has never been anything more. “I have worked for the Conrath family for some time. I served Alivia’s father, Henry Conrath, before he died.”

  “And you handle all of Alivia’s financial affairs, is that correct?” Alexa asks.

  “I left Alivia’s employ a month and a half ago,” he states. And while he is normally so cool and collected, Rath looks tense. Nervous. Uncomfortable.

  “And why did you leave?”

  “We had opposing views on…things,” he simply states.

  A sting hits the back of my eyes. Moisture wells in them and I bite my lower lip. That really was the finest revealing moment of just how terrible I had become. When Rath told me he was leaving me because of my actions. Because of the death and violence I had brought back into my father’s house.

  “In the time you served Alivia Conrath, did she ever send any amounts of money that might look suspicious? As if she might be supporting a large number of people?” Alexa asks.

  “In the six months I worked for Alivia, the only money she ever asked for was to build a low income housing development in our town,” Rath says. He folds his hands in front of him. “If she had an army to support financially, I would have known.”

  Alexa nods. “And in the six months you worked for Alivia, how often were you aware of her location?”

  “Alivia and I lived in the same house almost the entire time. It was only once she Resurrected that I left to give her time to adjust to her blood lust. But when I was not there, there was always someone from the House, or the Court, that was around.”

  “But you were not with Lady Conrath twenty-four-seven,” Alexa confirms.

  “No,” Rath agrees.

  I wish he would look at me. I wish I could get a moment alone to tell him how sorry I am. How much I want to take everything back. But I don’t get that chance because he won’t look in my direction.

  “Do you have any irrefutable evidence that Alivia did not commit the crime she is accused of?” Alexa asks.

  Rath blinks five times fast, licking his lips and swallowing hard. “It has been said that Alivia looks guilty because she—the Conrath name—has not yet suffered any serious attacks by this Bitten army.” He fiddles with the cuff of his jacket. His body language screams sadness and unease. “But that is incorrect.”

  He’s quiet for a long moment, and it’s obvious he needs time to collect himself.

  Suddenly, I am not so sure I want to hear whatever Rath is going to say.

  “Please continue,” Alexa encourages.

  Rath clears his throat once more and looks up, though not at anyone in particular. “Henry Conrath was killed by someone from this Bitten army.”

  There’s a deep, quick intake of breath from everyone in the audience.

  “What?” the word slips out my lips.

  “Someone broke into the Conrath house at dawn,” Rath starts in again. There’s a slight quiver to his voice. “I was just getting in for work. They staked Henry and then drug his body out into the sunlight to further the pain he was already suffering. I arrived just as they fled. I saw the brand. A snake, on the back of his hand.”

  I feel a million eyes turn to me, but all I can do is stare at Rath.

  I knew my father was murdered, that someone broke into the house and staked him. But Rath never disclosed who, or what, killed him—Born, Bitten, hunter.

  “Alivia has told you she knew nothing about our world before she inherited her father’s house,” Rath says. I see the whites of his eyes redden, well with moisture. “She isn’t lying. Henry wanted it to remain that way. He never told her what she was or who he even was. These attacks started long before Alivia knew anything about this world. There’s not a chance she’s guilty of these crimes.”

  He places just a little too much emphasis on the word these.

  He does hold me guilty of other crimes.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rath,” Alexa says. “You may take a seat. Ladies and gentlemen, we have heard the testimonies of numerous witnesses. Heard many stories and seen evidence. I turn sentencing over to our judges.”

  It’s too quick. I’m not ready. I need time to process this new information. I need to think about what this really means.

  But it’s over now. We’ve reached the end of this trial.

  And now, my fate will be decided.

  “Lillian Summers,” Alexa says and all the attention is turned to my first judge. “Based on the witnesses and evidence provided, how do you find the accused?”

  I look at her, holding her gaze. She rubs a hand over her newly acquired brand again, the confusion evident. But there’s also sadness. Regret. She was the first to doubt me when she was also the first to ally herself with me.

  “Not guilty,” she says, her voice sounding desperate.

  I forgive her. Immediately and without question.

  She’s family. And that’s what family does. We all make mistakes.

  “Dorian?” Alexa asks.

  “Not guilty,” he says without hesitation.

  “Malachi?”

  Malachi’s dark eyes study me. He hesitates in giving his answer. As if he’s still evaluating me, determining if he wants to keep punishing me for something he may still think I did.

  “Not guilty,” he finally responds.

  Chatter breaks out in the courtroom. A breath of relief is sighed from my House members, Cameron cheering loudly.

  “Majority sets the judgment,” Alexa says, cracking a small, forced smile. “Would the remaining two judges care to share their judgment, though?”

  “Not guilty,” Elle says. I manage a small smile for her, wishing I could hug her.

  “King Cyrus?”

  My body goes chill as I look back at my King and tormenter. The look in his eyes is so cold. So bitter.

  I make myself a promise that when I get out of here, I will stay as far away from him as I can for the rest of my immortal life.

  “I declare Alivia Ryan Conrath not guilty of the accused crimes,” he says. And it’s clear he, too, holds me guilty of other heinous acts.

  “Then I officially declare Alivia Conrath free of any charges and free to go home to her House,” Alexa says with a nod.

  Noise takes over the courtroom and everyone has something to say to their neighbor.

  I sit there. Stunned.

  Numb.

  I’m free.

  MY HOUSE MEMBERS RUSH FORWARD and there are so many arms around me, hands searching for touch and affirmation. I’m overwhelmed. Tears well in my eyes, and I’m having trouble breathing.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” I hear Cameron say with a gleeful smile.

  “The House is waiting for you,” Markov says calmly.

  A guard steps
forward, knife in hand, and for a moment, I’m afraid. “Unless you want to go home with that explosive in your back,” he says as he raises an eyebrow at me. I nod, and gently, he cuts into my skin, and I feel the pull as he removes the object. Next, he removes Ian’s. Without another word, he turns and leaves.

  Other words are being spoken, every one of my House members hardly able to contain their excitement. They’re expecting my orders, waiting to be told what to do. To pack. To depart. To get a car and head to a plane.

  Instead, I am only tossed about, still in my numbed and shocked state.

  My vision glosses over. My ears are muffled.

  I’m broken.

  I can’t be what they need right now.

  “Give her some damn space.”

  Someone pushes the crowd away and then a strong, warm arm wraps around my waist. Which is good because my legs don’t seem to be working.

  Gently, they pick me up, cradling me into a strong chest. I let my eyes slide closed as feet walk over the floor. I feel like my head is spinning and I’m spiraling down, down through the center of the earth.

  Maybe now I will get my wish. I will sink into the core, and then I will exist no more.

  At some point, the noise of the castle fades away and I’m laid on a soft bed. I refuse to open my eyes, though. I just can’t. I’ve dealt with too much for too long, and I’ve given all I had to give to survive. I’m empty.

  Someone pulls a blanket up and over my body, though I’m sure I’ll never be warm again.

  But quiet is what I really crave right now, and I’m granted it. I focus on relaxing my muscles, one at a time. On slowing my breathing.

  And at some point, I fall asleep.

  WHEN I WAKE, I’M ALONE.

  I sit up, confused for a moment. Over the last week and a half, I keep waking in different places, being shuffled from one room or prison cell to another. But I blink several times, clearing away the fog. And realize I’ve been in this room before. The one Markov and Christian came to me in.

  Sitting on the end of the bed is a stack of folded clothes and a towel. Not allowing myself to sink into numbness again, I grab them and head into the bathroom.

  I set my things on the counter and take three deep breaths before I find the courage to look up at myself in the mirror.

  The entire left side of my face is covered in bruises. Complete blackness circles my eye, a finger of it racing over my nose, hiding under the other eye, too. Black and blue patches outline the ghost of Cyrus’ fingers where he punched me, blossoming out from the impact site.

  I raise my hand and gently touch the cheekbone. It’s no longer broken, but I know he shattered bones. My nose looks ever so slightly crooked, it having been broken, too. My bottom lip is slightly swollen.

  Vampires heal quickly, so the evidence on my face still there twenty-four hours later is a testament to how hard he hit me. I have little doubt his blow would have killed a human.

  I wasn’t prepared for the brutality of King Cyrus. When Jasmine ruled the Broken House, they all were terrified to claim me because it would bring the King. I didn’t understand their fear, then. I couldn’t connect it with the honesty of his viciousness.

  But here it is, full evidence, on my face.

  Even worse, in my soul.

  I turn from the mirror, strip, and step into the shower.

  The clothes left for me are high class, fitting of a ruler. I feel an imposter in them. Black leather pants. A royal blue, flowing top. A high-collared, black leather jacket, which I leave on the bed for now.

  I’ve just pulled my shirt on when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” I answer timidly.

  I’m surprised when it is Raheem who walks inside and closes the door quietly behind him.

  And as soon as my eyes meet his, I begin to cry.

  “My nofret,” he breathes as he crosses the room and gathers me into his chest. “This is a time for celebration, not tears. You are free.”

  I shake my head against his chest, wetting his tunic with my regretful tears. “There is nothing to celebrate. I’m a monster.”

  Raheem hushes me, holding me tighter. “You’ve witnessed a monster here, Alivia,” he says quietly. “Do you really dare compare yourself to the likes of him?”

  My breath comes in a shuddered, deep pull. He drives a good point, but I do not answer him.

  “Cyrus has broken centuries-old Royals in much shorter amounts of time,” Raheem says as he gently sways me back and forth. “He’s driven them to end their own lives, driven them into complete madness. You may not feel it in this moment, but you are strong, Alivia Conrath. You are here, on your feet.”

  “I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” I confess.

  Raheem shakes his head, his short beard brushing into my wet hair. “You’ve only gone through your first refiner’s fire. You will come out stronger than before.”

  “I don’t know,” I counter. “I don’t think I can go home and face it all again. I’m just walking back into a war.”

  “There have been no more plays since the night Cyrus was attacked,” he says quietly. “I feel this is the lull before the storm. Take time if you need it.”

  The suggestion seems insane. How can I take time when the war is simply waiting to begin?

  “I’m sorry, Raheem,” I say, changing the topic. I have to deal with this guilt before it destroys me.

  He hugs me tighter, pressing his face more firmly into the top of my head. “Do not be sorry. You only followed your heart. It’s a fragile thing; we have to take care of it.”

  I pull away just enough that I can look into his eyes. And the tears flow down my face all the faster when I see the conflict in them.

  “You love Ian,” he finally says. His voice is quiet, strained, when he says it. But he does not falter. “Anyone who has seen the two of you together since your arrival in Roter Himmel can see it. It’s deep and true, even if it’s been complicated. You need to be with him, Alivia. You’ve been walking around with a great hole in your chest for months now. It’s time to fill it back in.”

  I sob, my shoulders sagging forward, as he once again perfectly forms the words. I press my lips together, squeeze my eyes closed, and shake my head. I take a moment to compose myself. Finally, I open my eyes once more and look at him. “But you…” I sob. “You…” I can’t form the words.

  “I count myself lucky to have gotten the time I did with you,” Raheem says, trying to look strong and sure when his eyes are telling me he’s breaking inside. “We provided something to each other that we needed. We were a brief light in one another’s world when the night was so very dark. I have no regrets, Alivia, and I do not wish for you to carry any, either.”

  I choke out a sob once more and collapse back into his chest, holding him tight. “What will you do now? Cyrus will not forgive you.”

  Raheem takes a moment, running his hand down the back of my hair. His breathing is calm, slow. “I am leaving the King’s service. Court. The desert is calling my name. It’s been too long since I’ve heeded it.”

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” I’m desperate for his promise.

  “I will,” he says.

  I pull away once more and study his eyes. So deep and rich. So full of secrets and time. “Thank you,” I breathe. “For everything.”

  “Thank you, my nofret.”

  And so very gently, filled with so much weight, I press my lips to Raheem’s, one last time.

  Because there is no other way to say goodbye to someone who means so much to me.

  Raheem breaks away, holding on to my hand as he steps back. There’s so much pain in his eyes. Love and need are never easy things. But there’s also hope.

  After nine hundred years in the King’s service, he’s finally free.

  In a terrible, horrible way, we freed each other.

  “Goodbye, Alivia,” he says quietly.

  “Goodbye, Raheem.”

  The tears stream down my face as he turn
s, opens the door, and walks out of my life.

  I sink onto the bed, my hands resting limply in my lap. Slowly, the tears stop rolling down my face. Slowly, my insides stop trembling. And one little breath at a time, a bit of my guilt and self-loathing releases from my body.

  I stand, wiping a hand over my face, just as the door opens once more.

  “Hey.” Samuel stands there in the doorway, looking very uncomfortable. “Uh, everyone is really anxious to get out of here. There’s a caravan waiting to take us to the plane.”

  “Okay,” I nod my head. I wipe the remainder of the tears from my face. I take one deep breath and grab my jacket from the bed. Sliding it on, I follow Samuel out into the hall.

  And there stands almost all of my family. They watch me with careful eyes, expectant and ready.

  “Let’s go,” I say, trying to give them a little smile.

  I start down the hall, and one by one, they hurry to follow me.

  Naturally, as if he was always meant to be there, Ian falls in at my side. We don’t say a word, but I need him there. And I think he knows that.

  A guard walks ahead of us, leading us through the castle. Down a hall, down so many flights of stairs. Across a huge ballroom. Down five more flights of stairs.

  Finally, we walk through a massive doorway and out into the courtyard.

  Many Royals wait for us there, standing in a line to the side of a row of cars. Cyrus and Dorian, Malachi, and X. Others.

  My heart starts racing. I just want to be done with Cyrus. I hoped I would never see him again, and here he is, one last time.

  The back of Ian’s hand brushes mine, and instinctually, I grab for his fingers. I need something to ground me.

  “I would be a rude host if I didn’t make sure to say goodbye to such esteemed guests,” Cyrus says with a cruel smile.

  Every one of my House members tightens around me.

  “It’s okay,” I lie, putting on the brave face. “Just get in the cars. We’ll depart in a moment.”

  Their looks are wary, unsure. But one by one, they drop into vehicles.

  Cyrus walks forward, leaving the others behind. “It’s been an adventure getting to know you, Alivia Conrath,” he says. I wish he would stop smiling. I want to make him stop smiling.