House of Kings (House of Royals Book 3) Page 15

  “You know where he is?” she asks, emotion cracking her voice at the same time as hope.

  I shake my head in confusion. “I…” I stutter for words, trying to make sense of this. “They said he left after that night. That he took you and Lula and got out of Silent Bend.”

  Elle shakes her head as moisture swells in her eyes. “Where is my brother, Alivia?” she asks in an emotional whisper. “He left four weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since.”

  Four weeks. One month. Four weeks ago, I took a pill because the time had come for me to embrace my new life. One month ago, the King was going to kill me to see if I was his Resurrected wife.

  Four weeks ago, Ian showed up in my room, begging me to run away with him.

  Four weeks ago, I began to die, my vision gone, and a set of fangs sank into my neck, ending my life as a human.

  “He came to see me that night,” I say quietly. “He asked me to leave. But it was too late. I was already dead. And the King…Cameron…Lillian. They all told me he took off. That he went to get you and that you all left town.”

  Fear consumed me just before I died. Raheem had warned me that Cyrus would not respond well to a lover in the way of finding his queen. And he walked in that night to find Ian. With me. We’d kissed that night. There’s no way Cyrus wouldn’t have heard it all, just in the next room.

  A gasp works its way up my throat. I take a step back.

  “No,” I whisper as the tears pool in my own eyes. I shake my head. “No.”

  “Where is my brother, Alivia?” Elle asks again.

  I squeeze my eyes closed, forcing two tears to run down my cheek.

  I thought he had finally left me for good. That he had abandoned me. That he had finally realized that I was what I was, that he had finally accepted what I was born to, and he just couldn’t move past that.

  But Cyrus lied. He made Lillian lie. He made Cameron lie.

  Ian hadn’t left.

  Not of his own free will.

  “I don’t know where he is,” I answer honestly. “But I know who has the answers.”

  That eerily calm expression she is known for comes over Elle’s face. Her eyes empty. Her shoulders relax back and she seems focused once more. “Then you have to go find him.”

  I swallow once. Because it’s the truth. “I will.”

  I STARE AT THE GATES of the House of Conrath from the outside. The ornate curving of iron. The giant Raven woven into the beautiful work. The great stone pillars they’re attached to.

  I remember the first time I saw this gate. Before I knew anything. Just two days before I arrived at this very same spot, I was working in a bakery. I’d had my hands coated in flour. I’d made a batch of cinnamon rolls. I’d clocked in at four thirty in the morning and clocked out at two. I’d driven my broken and battered car. I’d packed up the few remaining things in my tiny apartment that would fit into my bedroom here in Mississippi.

  My arrival at these gates was the start of so much.

  And the end of everything I’d ever known.

  In one giant leap, I sail over the gates. Once again, I travel up the driveway, up to the House, not knowing what to expect. I walk up to the porch, but instead of Rath, waiting to greet me and ease me into my new life, it’s Cyrus who steps out onto the porch.

  “I’m ready,” I say. “But not before you make me a deal and let me address my House members.”

  He studies me, his face once more an unreadable mask. Finally, he nods once. He stands aside, letting me through the front door.

  The Court members stand in the foyer, dressed and ready for departure. They’re calm. Composed. As if they were just waiting for me to return to the House. Except for Raheem. He stands at the end, his eyes dark and ready for death. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword.

  Just beyond them stand all fourteen of my House members.

  I walk forward until I’m standing at the center of them all. I drop my bag to the marble floor.

  “I know you don’t know what to think right now,” I say as I turn and look around at my House members. The old. The new. The uncertain and the remaining loyal. “Things seem really bad, and whoever has done this has been very careful.”

  I turn, my eyes trailing over the Court members. It’s obvious every one of them believes me guilty. And why wouldn’t they, when none of my House members have been killed, but so many other Royals have?

  “But you all know me,” I say as I turn back to those that matter. I find Lillian’s eyes. “You stood with me when I had to bury my mother again. You comforted me and lifted my spirits when my heart was shattered.” I look at Cameron. “And you became my family when I had none.” Nial.

  I take a step toward them. I let my hands hang at my sides. Open. Accepting of them and their judgment. “You know I didn’t do this. That I would never do something to hurt you. Please, look deep down. And find that truth. I don’t know much of anything anymore. But I do know that you are my family, and I beg you not to forget that.”

  “Enough,” Cyrus says quietly from behind me. I turn to face him, leaving my House to determine if they believe my speech—the truth—or not. “You asked, very boldly, for a deal.”

  I nod, taking a step in his direction. “When I Resurrected, you told me that someone very special to me had left. I’ve just confirmed that what you said was a lie.”

  Grunts and hisses ripple from the Court members at me calling their King a liar. The circle tightens around me, both from the Court members in preparation for attack, and from certain members of my House in protection.

  Maybe I haven’t lost them all for forever.

  Raheem jumps forward, drawing his sword, his eyes blazing red.

  “I want you to tell me the truth,” I say as I take another step toward Cyrus, stepping around Raheem. “Did you kill him?”

  Cyrus too steps toward me. “No,” he says.

  “Did you let him leave?” I ask as my throat feels tighter.

  Cyrus comes another step closer. “I too will make you a deal. You don’t make a fuss, you make this easy, our trip to Roter Himmel, and then the truth will be revealed to you.”

  I study his eyes, long, hard. Search for the truth there. And there’s the tiniest bit of openness there. I think he’s telling me the truth.

  “Alright,” I say with a nod. “I will go with you to Austria for my trial. And then, you will tell me where he is.”

  A wicked smile curls on his lips and a chill runs down my back. “Deal.”

  Cyrus turns and it’s an unquestionable cue that it is time to leave. “You will choose one House member to accompany you. Choose wisely.”

  “Let me,” a voice instantly blurts. I look over my shoulder to see Trinity step forward eagerly. “Please.”

  She’s the last one I would have expected to want to come with me. I study her for a long time, evaluating her motivation. I can’t figure that out. But the look on her face is desperate, eager. “Please,” she says again.

  I nod and turn back. “Trinity will come with me.”

  Murmurs break out behind me, the House is surprised, as well, some negatively toward this. But I do not go back on my decision.

  “Very well,” Cyrus says as he walks toward the door. “Secure the prisoner.”

  Two different guards from either side rush forward to grab me. I realize then, neither of the ones from just before are among the crowd now. I have little doubt Cyrus killed them for letting me get away.

  “Someone needs to be in charge of things while you are at trial,” Cyrus says as he opens the front door. “I will hope that your judgment is still worthy and let you decide who can run things in your place. For now.”

  I look over my shoulder, and study the faces. Many of them have doubted me. They question. Some look ready to turn. But one stands out, loyal to the end, unwavering in belief.

  “Nial,” I say, my heart racing. “Will you please take care of everyone while I am gone?”

  “Of course, your highness,�
�� he says as he takes a deep bow. When he looks up again, the expression on his face tells me he believes me. Through and through.

  “Take care, House of Silent Bend,” Cyrus says as he turns in the doorway momentarily. “Until we meet again.”

  One by one, the Court members file out the door, and Trinity walks ahead of me as I’m forced through the doors. We trudge through the snow. Down the drive. Over the expansive property. I look back at the House one last time as we make our way down the end of the driveway. And I hope and pray it is not for the last time.

  “WATCH THE SKY,” I SAY as I look out the back window.

  Cyrus and X turn as well, looking out the back window of the limousine we ride in. I study them as they study the retreating, swirling sky. “If I was the one who orchestrated all of this, if I created all those Bitten, wouldn’t you assume that curse was for me?”

  They both turn once more to face me. The tension in the air is thick, heavy, like an itchy, wet, wool blanket.

  “Would that curse still be hanging over Silent Bend if its intended recipient was leaving?” I ask, my voice cold and harsh.

  “It doesn’t always work like that,” X says. And the way her eyes flick away, there’s something about it.

  “It may take some time,” Cyrus says as he studies me. We race through the dark, a caravan of four limousines that cut silently through the pitch black over unhindered ground—free of snow the moment we left the borders of Silent Bend. “The curses we receive are not always immediately obvious. Are they, chancellor?”

  He looks over at X with a mixed expression. Disdain, anger, amusement—it’s always difficult to tell when it comes to Cyrus.

  “You have a curse, too?” I ask in genuine curiosity.

  She shoots me a harsh glare, but I can feel her true anger is directed at the King himself. “Yes,” she says.

  “Well, go on,” Cyrus says, the amused smile creeping up on his lips. “Tell her the details.”

  X leans back in her seat, crossing her legs, away from Cyrus. And suddenly, she seems incapable of looking at anyone. “I resurrected just after the Queen’s third death. By then, we knew for certain what was happening, that she would awaken from the Royal line. She’d been gone for eleven years.”

  She swallows and her eyes drop to her hands, which fidget in her lap. “I’d been around Court my entire life. My father worked with Cyrus, assisting him in anything he needed. So, I had watched Cyrus, seen him with Sevan. Saw the way he loved her.”

  She stops speaking for a long moment, and I can only imagine the history she’s reliving in her head. “I’d fallen in love with Cyrus, slowly, over my entire mortal life.”

  Finally, she looks up, fixing me with a solid stare, refusing to look in Cyrus’ direction. “So when I resurrected, I pretended to remember things. I’d watched Sevan for some time as a child, knew events. I’d heard stories, plenty of them to make my ruse convincing. I made him believe.”

  The shock sinks into every part of me. My eyes flick to Cyrus, who looks to be reliving his own version of the story in his head. I started playing the very same game, toying with this man’s emotions. But I was never in love with Cyrus. My motives were black, twisted. X said she’d actually loved the King.

  “She was very convincing,” Cyrus says, his tone low and reflective.

  “I was,” she confirms. “But it became more and more difficult to keep up the façade. He began talking about the early days, before he turned himself. Before the uprising and the death of his son. And I only knew little pieces.”

  She suddenly jerks her head to the side, snapping her eyes closed. “Cyrus was very upset with me.”

  The weight that settles over us all says this is a massive understatement.

  “The lie was dealt with,” X finally continues. “But from that day on, no other man would ever love me. No matter what I did.”

  And an awkward moment comes back to me. Of when X first arrived at the House of Conrath. Between she and Raheem. It had been obvious there was history between them. The look in her eyes said she felt something for him. But the look in his—there was nothing there in return.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “That’s awful. I know what it’s like to not be loved in return, the way you want to be.”

  X takes a deep breath, shaking her head, and seeming clearing away the powerful emotions rushing through her. She offers a cold smile. “It doesn’t matter now,” she says. “It’s all far, far in the past.”

  IT’S A FORTY-MINUTE DRIVE to the small airport. We roll right up onto the airstrip and there, just beyond where we park the limos, waits a sleek, beautiful jet. The baggage is loaded, and one by one, the Court members file into the aircraft. A very human pilot and his co-pilot greet us, and the burn in my throat flares hot and furious.

  But a strong set of hands grabs me from behind and drags me to the back of the plane. I’m shoved into the seat against the window, and a harsh-looking woman with cold eyes sits directly beside me.

  “Let me.” I look up to see Raheem standing in the aisle, death and violence in his eyes as he stares at my companion.

  “Not a chance,” she says with a smirk and a shake of her head.

  “I’m not giving you an option,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “Raheem, don’t,” I tell him, shaking my head.

  “You should listen to her,” Cyrus’ voice cuts from the front of the plane. “Your traitorous feelings are quite clear. Your access to Miss Alivia will be limited from now on. I’ve never doubted my trust in you until now.”

  Raheem stares Cyrus down, anger and malice, but also fear and respect in his expression.

  “Do as he says,” I beg him. I can’t have anyone else getting hurt because of me. “Please.”

  After a long moment, he finally looks at me, and I see consent there. He takes a seat in the row ahead of me.

  Just before the sun begins to rise, we take off, sailing through the air. The window coverings are secured, not letting in an ounce of sunlight.

  The flight seems to take forever. Five hours in the air, and then we touchdown somewhere to refuel. And while they fill up, six humans file into the jet. The fangs come out. The blood flows. Though all the Court members are too careful to spill it. My throat burns, my brain can’t process anything but the smell and how much I want the warm liquid coursing down the back of my throat.

  But none of the humans are allowed to come back my way. Instead, someone throws a blood bag at me, which I catch with a quick hand, just before it hits me in the face. I tear into it with animalistic control—none, and down the entire bag in less than thirty seconds, leaving my front covered in splatters of red.

  Fitting. I will arrive in Roter Himmel—Red Heaven, covered in red.

  We take off again, and it’s another six hours in the air. I have too much time to think. Too much time to analyze.

  What is going to come? Will I be able to make them see reason? Will they just kill me no matter what I say? What will happen to my House if I am put to death?

  These are the things I want to focus on, but there’s a tear in my heart that is leaking deadly and toxic emotions.

  Ian. I let him go forever because I truly believed he had left me. That he walked away when he saw that I was what I was born to be. So, I let him go. I moved on. With Raheem. We kissed. And I let myself get lost in those kisses.

  But… But what if Ian hadn’t walked away? What if the King really had lied about who sank their fangs into my neck, ending my human life? What does that mean for Raheem and I?

  I turn to the blocked out window and wipe the single stray tear away.

  What a mess I’ve made.

  The next time we touch down, the pilot comes back, thanking us for joining him and saying he hopes we enjoyed our flight.

  “You okay?” Trinity asks when she joins at my side as we begin to file out of the plane. It’s dark outside, a cool nip to the air. I have to remind myself we’ve just flown half way around the world.


  “Yeah,” I say through a thick throat.

  “In here,” the woman in charge of me says, indicating another waiting limo. Trinity and I climb inside, and it’s instantly dark when we do, the windows blacked out.

  We take a silent ride, and I try to distract myself from my impending trial by studying the terrain outside the window. A valley spreads out before us, sided immediately by steep mountains. Trees dot every surface. Small patches of snow hide in the shadows.

  Spring is close here. The warmth in the air is fighting the cold. They aren’t buried in snow here. They aren’t cowering beneath the eye of a curse storm.

  And Austria is beautiful.

  We cut through the valley, toward where the mountains narrow together. It takes us thirty minutes to reach the mouth of the canyon, and then I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic.

  The mountains cut straight up around us. They tower, shadow us, it feels darker through here, even in the middle of the night. The stars blink in and out of view behind trees, behind the peaks of the mountains.

  “I’ve never been out of the country,” Trinity says quietly. She stares out the window, too.

  “Me, neither,” I say as I shake my head.

  “The world is a big, big place,” the woman says. And she holds a smile on her face. She’s happy to be home.

  The canyon goes on for an hour, winding, climbing, falling in elevation. The snow grows more prominent, several feet deep, and then thins out before disappearing completely.

  We begin to descend into a valley, curling to the north, and suddenly, we’re in yet another canyon. This road is narrower. The trees grow closer. The car drives slower around sharper climbs and turns.

  I feel the anticipation inside of me rising. I can feel the air thicken. Feel the danger growing more obvious.

  We’re almost there.

  We crest over the mountain, so high in elevation my instincts tell me my ears need to pop. But my vampire body does not react the same. And as the trees thin, as our outlook opens up, I get my first view of Roter Himmel.