“He’s safe,” I say, slipping back into the reality of the present. “I’ve…there’ve been several attempts, stakes and sun torture. But never anything like this.”
“It’s true?” Dorian asks. He’s already cringing. “Cyrus was beheaded?”
I press my lips into a thin line. I nod.
Malachi’s eyes rise to Alivia’s, and then to Ian’s. “You trust them?”
I look over my shoulder at the both of them. While this is still so new, so fresh, and hasn’t exactly gone smooth so far, I know it. “I do. You can speak freely in front of them.”
There’s one more beat, and it’s obvious: my family doesn’t trust easily and they’ve seen no proof themselves.
“You already know that I know,” Alivia cuts in, her voice sounding slightly annoyed. “I watched Cyrus get staked, right in front of me. I thought he was dead. And then watched him pull that stake out like it was just a little poke with a needle. I know that in the past, Cyrus really couldn’t be killed.”
They continue looking at her doubtfully.
“She went on trial for it, damn it,” Ian growls. “We were both here. It’s been all this time and Liv hasn’t used that knowledge for a damn thing, so give her a break and respect her as a House leader, just like your pompous selves.”
Malachi’s eyes light to red and he takes one step forward.
Alivia throws a hand out, blocking her husband, at the same time I block Malachi.
“He’s right,” I say, pushing him back. “You may have different experiences, be closer related, but he’s right.” Malachi’s eyes flick to mine in annoyance. “Alivia is the leader of a House, just like you and Dorian. I’m telling you that you can trust her, and you’re going to listen.”
Malachi is the leader of the House in Egypt. Dorian rules all of Russia with multiple Houses.
“I’ve seen Cyrus staked twice,” I say, forcing a productive direction back into this conversation. “I’ve seen his body thrown off a cliff and shattered on the rocks below once. All times he should have died, all times he survived.”
Dorian nods. “I was with him when he was nearly cut in half by the Blood Father. He was down for a day while healing, but he did heal.”
Malachi nods. “I was not standing beside him, but he was stabbed through the heart more than once with a sword during the years of war following the death of the Blood Father.”
“He always healed within a day or less, right?” I question, looking to each of them for confirmation.
They all concur.
“It’s been three days now,” I say. “He is healing, but there are no signs of him waking up yet.”
I feel cold.
I’m scared.
I want to hope, but I hardly dare.
“May we see him?”
All the blood drops into my feet when Dorian speaks the words.
I look up at them with wide eyes. I turn them to everyone who surrounds me.
This…this is the true trial of trust. Right now Cyrus is safe. Right now I can protect him. I can defend his weakness by not letting another soul see him like this.
But this is family. The people who have been the most loyal to Cyrus for thousands of years are standing right here.
I nod. “Meet me in the infirmary in thirty minutes.”
Without another word, I stride off, ducking out the doors.
Chapter 6
Every second since I’ve come to Roter Himmel, I’ve been scared. Now is no different as I have to move Cyrus. I’m so careful, go so slow, so I do not disturb the healing tissues. But little by little, I move him. On silent feet, I rise up through the castle, transferring him to a gurney I brought from the infirmary. I wheel him through the empty castle.
After I wheel him into a secure room, I once more assess his healing.
I can’t see bone any longer. Shiny muscle is barely still visible beneath his skin, but what little I can see is reattached. And most of his skin has knitted back together.
I expect that by morning, he will look normal once more.
I turn toward the door to wait for Dorian and Malachi, but I jump, a little yelp strangled in my throat when I find a body standing just inside the doorway.
“Larkin,” I breathe.
There are many reasons why I trust him to do the things I ask, and his absolutely silent feet are two of the little ones.
“Everything has been taken care of back in the States, my Queen,” he says, dipping in a small bow.
I can’t handle any more emotion. This is something I need to process later, what Larkin had to do to cover up what happened to my parents. But I just don’t have room in me for it right now.
“Thank you,” I say, swallowing around my tight and thick throat. I look around, as if I can find and organize my thoughts from the air around me. There are too many strings I need to hold onto right now, and I’m pretty sure I’m dropping a lot of them.
“Things are a mess here,” I say, looking back at the man. “I don’t trust more than a few people. There are plots happening right under my nose. I don’t have enough help or time to deal with it all.”
“Give me an assignment,” he requests simply.
I straighten, gratitude rushing through me.
Larkin has never been an official member of Court. He spends his own time moving from House to House, never staying in one place for long. But he’s always here, whenever I’m alive, ready to serve.
Because I spared his life once. A long, long time ago, when I wore Helda’s face.
“I’ve been told there were five other Born in Roter Himmel who were in on this plot to kill Cyrus,” I say with a swallow. Larkin’s eyes briefly flick to Cyrus, who lies behind me. “Ian Ward killed two already, but I don’t know if the other three are still in the city or not. I need you to find them and get every drop of information you can out of them.”
“It will be done, Sevan,” Larkin says. He offers a deep bow, and immediately turns to leave.
I have all of ten seconds alone before there is the sound of footsteps down the hall.
I want to cover Cyrus up, to hide him. I can hardly bear the thought of Dorian and Malachi seeing Cyrus like this. But when I worked in the mortuary, we covered the dead with white sheets, and I’ve sworn to myself that I won’t let Cyrus stay dead.
Their faces are already pale when Dorian and Malachi step into the room. When they see him, both of them swallow once, their faces growing even whiter. Slowly, they cross the room and stand beside him.
He looks better. Cyrus no longer just looks dead. He looks as if he could be sleeping.
“It hardly looks as if he was injured at all,” Dorian says in awe. “And he truly was decapitated?” He looks over his shoulder at me.
My throat is thick when I nod. “I had to carry him, to move him out of the Great Hall,” I say. “The King was in two completely separate pieces. Trust me.”
I want to throw up at the memory of having to pick him up and arrange him like that.
“Incredible,” Malachi muses. “How? How is this happening?”
“It’s Cyrus’ curse,” I say. My eyes go glazed and I’m not really seeing anything anymore. “That he can never die, while I die over and over. The curse lives on.”
They both shake their heads in wonder.
“Before all of this,” I continue, waving my hand around the space, “Cyrus studied life. His parents were what you might call root doctors and astrologists. They taught Cyrus everything they knew. He claimed he didn’t believe in it. But he used it. I watched him over the years. I was never an actual student, but I learned. I knew.”
They watch me, but I don’t look up.
“Ash for renewal,” I say quietly. “Mud for grounding. Blood for life.”
Someone kneels beside me, and it takes me a moment to find the will to bring myself back into the room. I blink, and let my eyes slide over to meet Malachi’s.
“If anyone in the world can bring the King back from wherever he
is, it is you, Sevan,” he says. He reaches out and takes my hands in his.
I’m touched by his words and his display of compassion. Malachi has never been a warm or caring person. He has believed in alliances and power. Not in the way my son ever did. But in a way that made his lines strong, both physically and politically.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“We will protect the King,” Dorian says. “If what you said is true and there are Royals looking to change things, we need a way to vet the entire Court, and maybe even beyond Court.”
Malachi nods, and I know. Whatever has to be done, they’re here to help me.
I feel something in me darken and harden.
“I think it’s time to take a page out of my husband’s playbook,” I say as I stand. “I think we settle this with a game of sorts.”
They look at me with surprise and uncertainty.
They have plenty of experience with Cyrus’ games. But in all these thousands of years, I have never taken part, never condoned any of them.
“I have to believe Cyrus will return,” I say as I stand tall. “I will not let it be to a Court—a Kingdom he cannot trust.”
Chapter 7
Early in the morning, an hour before the sun will rise, I make my way to the tower, where I sent word, via Dorian, for the others to wait for me. I wind my way up a spire, and when I reach the top, it opens up into a large room.
Arched windows wrap around the entire space. A golden chandelier with crystals dangling from it hangs from the high ceiling. A huge rug spans out across the floor. And comfortable chairs and couches and pillows are scattered around along the walls.
I find Eshan, Alivia, and Ian on the far side of the circular room, not really saying anything, just waiting.
A big huff whooshes out of my lungs when I sit down and let myself sink deep into the chair. My eyes immediately slip closed.
I’m not sleepy, but I’m exhausted.
I have an entire Court to keep in line, and about a dozen people I think I can trust to help me do it.
And suddenly, I realize I haven’t fed in days.
“You’re handling this all way better than I ever could have,” Alivia says, attempting to lighten the mood.
I open my eyes, sighing as I stare at the ceiling. I’m too tired to even have a conversation, but I know it’s needed.
“It will be easier now that Dorian and Malachi are here,” I say. “This happens every time, to some degree. The Court doubts me because I look different, and it’s been a really long time this time that I’ve been gone. But they respect and trust the two of them. It will be easier and quicker to get this figured out with them here.”
I feel Alivia’s mood darken. “Well, that’s a load of bull shit.”
I actually chuckle. “Amen.” I sigh again, shaking my head. “Things change slowly in a place like this. We’re all so stuck in time and that’s the reality of it—they’ve never been led by anyone besides Cyrus.”
“I just feel sorry for the idiots,” Eshan pipes up. “Cyrus is pretty intense, but I grew up with Logan. She’s damn scary!”
Everyone chuckles. But immediately I’m reminded that I should be chiding him for swearing.
It finally, suddenly hits me.
My parents are dead. Eshan is my charge now, for forever.
Emotion bites at my eyes. My throat clenches shut.
I bite my lower lip to try to keep from letting out a sob.
“Hey,” Eshan says, climbing out of his seat and coming to my side. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and I immediately lay my head on his chest. “I’m sorry, Lo. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”
I shake my head. “It’s not you.” My voice breaks, but the tears don’t fall yet. “I just remembered. It all just hit me that Mom and Dad…”
Eshan tightens his grip on me and I feel a tremble creep into his embrace.
I’d forgotten for a little while. With everything else, with Sevan so present in my head, I’d forgotten.
I’m still Logan Pierce. I’m still a twenty-year-old whose parents were just savagely murdered. I’m just a girl who now has to be in charge of her sixteen-year-old brother.
All while trying to hold a Kingdom together.
A sob rips from my chest and I hug into my brother tighter. A moment later, I feel a tear fall from Eshan’s face and land on my ear. He cries silently, but holds me tight, keeping me together when it should be my job to comfort him.
But I can’t right now.
Mom. Who taught me how to do my makeup when I was eleven. Who was so excited to go with me to buy my first training bra. Who loved to gossip about all the boys I liked in middle school.
And Dad. Who never remembered to buy anything new for himself, because he was always spoiling Mom rotten. Who snuck me out when I was fourteen to teach me how to drive. Dad was always up for going out for piping hot Buffalo wings every other Saturday for lunch.
Because of me, because of something I was born into and had no choice in, they’re dead. They were brutally murdered by two men who have been hunting me for over one hundred years.
Alivia shifts to the chair next to me. She doesn’t say anything and doesn’t touch me. This is a world she can’t be a part of. She may have given birth to me twenty years ago, but she wasn’t there for any of those little moments. She doesn’t know anything about the bond between my brother and I, and our parents that we looked nothing like.
But she’s there. Just her presence screams her support.
I wipe my eyes after a while. I take a deep breath and straighten as Eshan releases me.
“We need to do it soon,” I say. “If we wait any longer the bodies will be…” I can’t say the words, but my training knows exactly the damage that has already been done to their bodies, and the state they’re slipping further and further into without being taken care of. “Will you both help me?” I ask, looking to Alivia and Ian. “We need to lay them to rest.”
“Of course,” Alivia says as she takes my hand.
Without further words, we make our way down and through the castle. Alivia seems to know where she is going as she leads us toward the side entrance that lets out into the courtyard.
She opens a door just off to the side. Sitting just inside, in the center of the room, there are already two caskets.
I know. I already know that opening those caskets to see my parents’ faces one last time to say goodbye wouldn’t do one bit of good with the state they will be in. So, side-by-side, Eshan and I step inside.
I place my hands on one coffin that reads Gemma Pierce on the top of it. “I love you,” I whisper. Trading places with Eshan, I go to my father’s coffin. Ethan Pierce. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I love you.”
Tears slowly slip down my face, and my brother’s. Together, all four of us, we first take my mother, and then my father, and carry them out into the courtyard. In one corner of it, there is a graveyard, where over the years, Cyrus and I have buried our closest family members.
The graves were already dug. I don’t know who did all of this, if it was Alivia or Ian, or maybe even Mina. But I’m incredibly grateful.
I don’t even speak words, and neither does Eshan. But they’re there, in the air around us. In our hearts. A lifetime of love.
And at the castle grounds, half a world away from their home, my brother and I lay our parents to rest.
Chapter 8
Maybe it’s how I’m dealing with my grief, but after we go inside, I head to my office and call for Mina. I tell her to bring me a feeder. Ten minutes later she returns, and I drink and drink, and I only let the woman go when Alivia steps in and tells me that it is enough.
I lick my lips as I watch the woman wobble out on shaking legs with Mina’s help.
I harden as I look back at Ian and Alivia. They sit on the plush couch against the far wall. I sit on the edge of my mahogany desktop, surrounded by a collection of things from all of my previous lives.
It’s been unused for
nearly three hundred years, but it’s been taken care of as if I had been here just last week.
Eshan headed to bed. His human body needs it a lot more than the rest of us immortals.
“You can stop looking at me with those sad eyes,” I say, reaching for the tiny skull that sits on one corner of my desk. “Yeah, I’m an emotional mess right now and there’s a lot of shit going on inside of me, but I have a ton of crap to take care of, and not a lot of time to do it, so please, just stop with the pity.”
“You don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Ian growls. “We’re just trying to help.”
“This is how you can help,” I snap, glaring at him. “If you knew anything about me, you’d understand.”
I regret the words the instant they’re out of my mouth. I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath through my nostrils. “I’m sorry,” I say. “My nasty words get the best of me every once in a while.”
I open my eyes to meet Alivia’s, and there’s this little look in her eyes that says, I think I know where you get that from.
“You’re nearly all the help I have right now, and I do appreciate it,” I say, trying to make it better. “I just…I can’t deal with all the emotions piled up on top of the…stuff I have to figure out and do.”
“I get it,” Alivia says. “Everything I went through when taking over the House of Conrath made me into a little bit of a monster. And it’s nothing compared to everything you have to tackle. So if being nasty helps, be nasty.”
She actually pulls a little smile out of me.
It seems we have more in common than just our looks.
“Okay,” I say with a sigh, turning the little skull over in my hand without really realizing I’m playing with it. “Something just the two…three,” I correct, my eyes flicking over to Ian’s. It’s going to be a long, long while until we get along. “Of us need to talk about.” I take one beat, my eyes sliding back to my biological mother’s. “My father.”
I see Alivia actually recoil a little bit. She sits further back in her chair, her shoulders draw in a bit.