Crown of Bones: Book Four - Crown of Death Saga Page 2

  I swear under my breath, looking around as if I expect to see half-siblings creeping along the shadows.

  “And there is no sign of Lorenzo himself,” Cyrus concludes with a hiss.

  Malachi shakes his head gravely.

  Cyrus doesn’t rage. He doesn’t tear anyone’s head off.

  He lets out a slow breath through his nose and rolls his shoulders back.

  “Come, you are needed at the castle,” he says. “We need to make preparations. Find Dorian and meet us there.”

  With a nod, Malachi immediately slips back into the shadows.

  Chapter 2

  There were thirty-seven Royals gathered around us just ten minutes ago, listening to Cyrus’ speech, but here in the Great Hall there are only thirty-six gathered.

  It’s a man. One who was standing along the outside edge. Not the one I was concerned about. Just another man who had listened quietly.

  But now he’s gone, and I fear I know exactly what has happened to him.

  He’s turned against us.

  I try not to think about only that man over the course of the next hour, but it isn’t easy to let it go.

  Once Dorian and Malachi arrive, Cyrus dives right in. He does not beat around the bush. He explains everything as far as we know. That Lorenzo St. Claire, a man born here at Court, who has lived among us for so long, has been conspiring against the crown for hundreds of years. Cyrus tells them Lorenzo plans to bring an end to the separation of Born and Royal, that he wants to usher the world into a new, exposed light.

  Tactically, I drop numbers. I won’t let them forget how outnumbered we are in the world. I have to make them understand the fear Cyrus and I felt when we were once hunted.

  We explain it very clearly, there are a hundred Royals who have been brainwashed by Lorenzo their entire lives standing just outside our city, and there are more who will be arriving any minute.

  And when they are all gathered, their numbers will very, very nearly equal our own.

  Then it is time for me to fully explain the truth of why the army is here. That I used them to make people expose their truth. I utilized them in unearthing those who betrayed Cyrus, leading to his decapitation. I confess it was all fake. But it did uncover those who had betrayed us.

  I expected them to be angry. To look at me with bitterness. And some of them are. But as Malachi had predicted, most of them look at me with reverence and respect. They see the brilliance of what it accomplished.

  I see it when they look from me to Cyrus. And I know Lorenzo was right. Cyrus and I, we really are two sides to the same coin in many ways. I might not use bloodshed like Cyrus. But I can be cunning when needed.

  “We would have fallen within days if I hadn’t done what I did,” I explain, holding my chin high. “I have to believe the only thing that kept Lorenzo’s descendants from flooding into our city immediately was the fact that they could not communicate with him. They had no way to know if he was dead or alive, or if they should still have come. The conspirators would have tried to seize control of the castle within days, and they probably would have killed me, and countless others who would have stood at my side.”

  Some stand straight, and I see devotion in their expressions. I know some of them doubted my ability to lead them on my own, but they still would have stood by my side if it came to a fight.

  “You know everything now,” Cyrus says. He reaches for me, wrapping an arm around my lower back and resting his hand on my hip. I look at him, and in this moment, I feel like we’re so exposed. Like at any moment everything we’ve built is going to evaporate and everyone in the world will turn against us. Any moment, it’s just going to be us against the world again, just like it was thousands of years ago.

  “So with all of the cards in your hands, with all of the crucial information,” Cyrus continues. “You have a decision to make.”

  It’s absolutely silent. Every one of those thirty-six people watch us, hardly even breathing.

  “Do you wish for things to remain the same?” Cyrus asks. His throat is thick. His words are slightly strained. “Do you wish to be safe in secrecy, do you want to remain among the loyal bloodlines? Or do you wish for the world to evolve into something entirely changed where all the lines will blur?”

  Cyrus stands straight, tilting his chin down, looking out over the crowd from beneath his lashes. His lips are set hard, and I swear, power is radiating from his eyes. It blankets the Great Hall, fills every centimeter of the space until there isn’t even room for air.

  “Declare yourself now,” Cyrus says with such clarity. “Do you stand with us, or Lorenzo St. Claire?”

  Dorian and Malachi immediately take one step forward. With a balled fist, they swiftly bring it to their chests, right above their hearts.

  They will stand with the crown.

  Another six men and women repeat the pledge, and Cyrus and I nod to each of them in thanks.

  Another ten follow suit. And then the rest of the room pledges.

  My heart is full of gratitude and pride. I can hardly contain it. But I don’t let the emotions that well in my eyes break.

  “Thank you,” I breathe, looking to each of them. “It means so much. You all are our family. I love you all. Every one of you, even if we don’t know each other yet. You’re my family.”

  I hope they can feel the full depth of my words.

  I see nods. I see looks of pride. I see love radiating back.

  I know Cyrus might not feel that same love toward them. I think the extent of his love died when our son died his human death. The only being he truly loves anymore is me.

  But he is loyal to our kind.

  “We need your help,” Cyrus says, moving along. “If there were time, we would have finished this through investigation. But that time has run out. We need to end it, today, and so we must rely on all of you.”

  “You know each other,” I say, taking a step forward. “You know your family. You know your friends, your neighbors. You’ve talked behind closed doors with them for decades, for centuries. If there is anyone we may not be able to trust, we’re relying on you, for the safety of our kind, to tell us. And you may release those you know will stand with us.”

  They look at one another, and little murmurs echo throughout the Hall.

  “We will meet you all back at the castle gates at midnight,” Cyrus says, once more taking my hand. “With all our brothers and sisters, we will make a plan to make our stand.”

  With one more look at my descendants, I smile sadly, knowing nothing is going to be the same again.

  Already, I feel the tides shifting.

  Hand in hand with Cyrus, we turn, and walk out of the Great Hall.

  I’m tired. Like, really, really, really tired.

  As if sensing it, Cyrus guides us toward the stairs and we rise up to the second floor.

  I hesitate, looking down the hall, toward where I know Eshan’s room is.

  “I need to get my brother out of here.” The words come out in a blurted realization. “What’s about to happen here… It’s no place for a sixteen-year-old human boy. He isn’t safe here.”

  “Where would you send him?” Cyrus asks.

  I hesitate, considering for a moment. He can’t go back to Colorado. There’s no one there for him with our parents gone. I consider cousins around the States. But considering what he’s been through? What he knows? How is he ever supposed to fit in with normal people again?

  “I think Elle would take him,” I say as a light bulb turns on. I consider the warm, soft woman who is kind of my aunt, the mother of my cousin. Cousins. “She could keep him safe. I don’t know if Ian could ever get over his resentment of us, so I can’t send him to Alivia. But I think Elle would take care of him.”

  “I know she would,” Cyrus says, placing his hands on my shoulders.

  I feel guilty. Because of me Eshan doesn’t have parents anymore. I said I would take care of him. But I realize now, I can’t do it. I’m not ready. And I can�
�t be the guardian he needs when I’m trying to fight a war.

  It breaks my heart.

  He may not be blood, but he is my only living family left.

  The guilt in my heart is enough to choke me.

  “Would you like me to call her for you?” Cyrus asks.

  I shake my head. “I can do it.”

  * * *

  Cyrus gives me privacy in our bedroom and I sit staring at my phone for forever without making the call. Once I do, there’s no taking it back.

  “Hello?” a sweet voice with a Southern accent answers when I finally find the nerve.

  “Elle,” I say as emotion suddenly springs into my eyes and my voice threatens to crack. “It’s Logan.”

  “Logan,” she says in surprise. “Is everything alright?”

  I sniff, trying to hold in the tears that want to roll down my face. “Not really.”

  “Tell me what’s the matter,” she says.

  In the background I hear the sound of children fighting and then a male voice intervening. I smile, imagining Elle’s life in Boston with her husband with the weird name of Lexington, and their three kids. They are tied eternally to a house because of their oldest daughter, who in reality is not Lexington’s. But for now, they’re separate enough for their kids to have a childhood.

  “There’s a lot going on,” I say as I relax back into the headboard and the pillows. “A lot of information will be going out to the Houses in the next week or so, but you just need to know that Roter Himmel isn’t a very safe place right now.”

  “What can I do to help?” she asks. I hear a door close and the background noise is shut off.

  I sniff, holding in the tears. I don’t want to have to do this. I don’t want to send my brother away. He’s my best and only friend here, besides Cyrus. He’s my last link to my normal, human life, before it all spiraled into something huge and deep and heavy.

  “It isn’t safe here for my brother,” I finally say the words. “There’s going to be a lot of fighting going on here very soon. And he’s too fragile. I can’t risk him getting hurt or killed, or used against me.”

  My voice grows shakier with every word I speak. Tears finally break free, rolling down my face. I put a hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing.

  “We’ll take him,” Elle says. She does it without hesitation. Without conditions. “He’ll have to share a room with George, but as long as he doesn’t mind stories about farts and dinosaurs, I think they’ll get along just fine.”

  “Really?” I ask, but the word cracks and is barely audible.

  “Logan, you’re family,” Elle says. “And whatever is going on there can’t last forever. You two will be together again.”

  A breath of relief slips past my lips.

  She’s right. I hadn’t thought of it that way, that this is only temporary and I swear to myself I won’t let this new war last forever.

  “Thank you, Elle,” I say. I’m welling over with gratitude. “Can he come soon? Like, as soon as I can get him over there on a plane?”

  I swear I can feel her soft smile through the phone. “Of course. I’ll tell Lexington he needs to go buy a bunk bed.”

  I huff a laugh, smiling so big my face nearly hurts.

  “Thank you,” I say again. “I’ll send you his flight info so you can pick him up.”

  “You’re welcome,” Elle says. “You take care of business.”

  We say our goodbyes and I stare at the wall for a moment after I hang up.

  This world is filled with bad people. But there are also some really, really good ones in it, too.

  Now I have to do something I really don’t want to.

  I walk down the stairs and head down the hall toward Eshan’s bedroom. I find the door already open, and to my surprise, Cyrus is sitting on the end of the bed, talking with him.

  I stare at the two of them, my eyes wide, it’s such a bizarre sight.

  I have a sudden flash back to Cyrus with our son, trying to council and advise him.

  And here he is with my human brother.

  “Boston, huh?” Eshan says, giving me a slightly wary look.

  Those stupid tears are instantly back in my eyes. “I’m so sorry, E,” I nearly begin sobbing as I sit on the bed, wrapping my arms around him. “I just can’t stand the idea that you might get hurt with all this shit going on. I’m supposed to take care of you, but all I can do right now is keep you safe and out of harm’s way.”

  My brother gives a sigh and squeezes me. “Don’t go getting all hysterical on me, geez,” he says, and I can practically hear his eye roll. I sit up, studying his face, trying to read him. “I mean, I’d rather stay here and help you, Logan. But I’ve seen what some of these guys can do, and frankly, I don’t really feel like getting ripped limb from limb. So yeah, I’ll go live in Boston for a while.”

  “Really?” I ask with a tearful smile.

  He actually does roll his eyes this time. “Really, you drama queen.”

  I’m so relieved he doesn’t hate me. I just shake my head and hug him once more.

  “Let’s get your bag packed,” Cyrus says as he stands and looks around for one. “We should leave as soon as possible.”

  My emotions swing all over the place as the three of us work to pack what little Eshan brought with him from Colorado just over a month ago. I really am a mess. I’m scared. I’m relieved. I feel guilty. I feel grateful.

  Together, all three of us head to the highest tower at the back of the castle.

  We certainly can’t drive to the airport with all of the descendants of Lorenzo swarming the mouth of the canyon.

  But times have certainly changed since I was last at the castle as La’ei.

  A shiny black helicopter waits in the middle of the landing pad. A pilot waits there, as if he has nothing else in the world to worry about, other than taking the King wherever he wishes to go.

  Eshan can’t stop saying how cool the ride is, even in the darkening night. He’s a total sixteen-year-old boy right now. I hold his hand, laying my head on his shoulder, just relishing in this last moment I get with him.

  We touch down directly at the airport, and the pilot is already waiting to spirit my brother away.

  “This isn’t goodbye for good,” I say as Cyrus hands him his backpack.

  “I know,” he says, giving me a little smile.

  “You’ll be extremely, overly helpful for Elle and Lexington, won’t you?” I ask as I pull him in for a hug. “They’re doing us a huge solid by taking you in, considering they have three little kids at home. You’ll be a crazy helpful big brother, won’t you?”

  “Are you kidding me?” he says as I release him. “After enduring fifteen years as a little brother to you, I think I can handle being the big brother for once.”

  I smile and Cyrus clears his throat, looking over at me, letting me know it’s time for him to leave.

  So with a sad smile and a promise that this is only a see you later, we say our goodbyes, and I watch my baby brother climb into the airplane, and then take off into the sky to safer grounds.

  Chapter 3

  I lie in bed, trying not to think about anything.

  Not about my brother flying across a continent and an ocean. Not about the army down in the valley. Not about the invaders.

  I lie on my side, and I look at the ring on my left hand. The gold band looks dark in the eleven o’clock hour, the diamonds only shine a little, and the center emerald looks pitch black.

  But here, on my finger, is the symbol of the one bit of happiness I have right now.

  The bed dips and then there’s a warm body spooning up to mine as Cyrus lies behind me. He wraps one arm around my middle, pulling me in tight to him.

  But I keep looking at my ring, letting a moment of happiness and relief spread through me.

  “Tell me about the wedding you always dreamed about as a girl,” Cyrus breathes into my ear. “Tell me all the details so I can bring it to reality for you, Logan.”


  I smile. Just the sound of his voice sends waves of goosebumps washing over my skin. His nearness sends electricity cascading down my body.

  “Would you believe me if I said I never did have any kind of wedding fantasy?” I ask.

  “No,” he says with a smile in his voice. “I don’t know that I would.”

  I laugh, continuing to study the facets of my emerald. “It’s true. I never had any grand ideas about my dress, or where the location would be, the flowers.” I roll back toward him a bit so that I can look into his dark eyes. “The groom.”

  Cyrus takes my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the ring he placed on my finger only a few days ago.

  “I could marry you in the grossest strip club in Vegas, wearing jeans and a ripped t-shirt, and it would be exactly what I want, Cyrus,” I say. “Because you’d be there, wanting to marry me for some insane reason.”

  When the words come out, I realize how much I have changed in the time I’ve met this man. Just four months ago I never would have said that sentence. I could never have lain here, so vulnerable and open and honest. My bitter heart just couldn’t be real like that.

  Yes, I have multiple other people in my head now, the memories of eight dead queens.

  But I think people evolve when they become one like Cyrus and I have.

  They change.

  For the two of us, I feel like it has been into the better versions of ourselves.

  “You may not have any imaginings of the day, my love,” Cyrus says, leaning in just a little closer, studying my eyes. “But I have thought about the day for weeks now. The day you will be my bride.”

  The word sends a thrill through me. It’s scary. That’s for damn sure. Because—me? A bride? It’s so real. So binding.

  “I have thought about you in a white dress, Logan,” Cyrus whispers, leaning in. He teases his lips along my jaw. “I have thought about those two words slipping past your lips.” He presses a soft kiss to my skin, and I barely even hear the words I do as my eyes slip closed and my body sparks to life. “I have thought about a ring on my own finger, the first I will have ever worn.”