“Have you seen him here at Court?” I ask, point blank.
Ian looks over at Alivia and I can read a lot in his eyes. He’s worried for her. About how she’s handling all of this. But he also hates this. The fact that she had sex with a man who wasn’t him, even if it was years before they ever met, and something so heavy came of all this. Something that came back to haunt her and throw her life into so much chaos years later.
Ian is an asshole to me, to a lot of people in the world, I’d expect. But he does love Alivia, and I can see, he’ll do whatever he can to help and protect her.
“Yes,” Alivia says. She releases her breath as if she’s been holding it. She looks pale. “He was in the Great Hall when all the others gathered for the…questions. I knew it was him immediately.”
I’m actually relieved. This is one thing at least that is simple, black and white.
“Good,” I say with a nod. “Now, you said you were pretty sure he gave you a fake name when you met him.”
Alivia nods.
“So that raises one red flag,” I say, looking at the little skull. I think it’s from a squirrel. “And the fact that he ran into you, it just doesn’t seem like a coincidence, does it? One Royal and another?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve thought about it a lot over the years,” Alivia says. “I really don’t know how he could have known I was a Royal, unless he happened to be following my dad, Henry. Once he learned I was alive, my dad used to check in on me every once in a while. I guess he could have followed Henry and made some assumptions.”
“I don’t know what it would have mattered,” Ian says, shaking his head. “What’s the point of a Royal male getting a still-human Royal female pregnant? The end result would have been the same if he’d gotten just any regular human female pregnant.”
“So you think it was a coincidence?” I ask Ian.
He nods. “If it had been intentional, and he really had sought Alivia out, I mean, he would have recognized Liv yesterday. She wasn’t hiding. Wouldn’t he have remembered her and stepped forward to say something?”
He has a point.
“I think it was just a random hook up,” Ian says. “All the Royals admit it, there are some who just sleep their way across countries trying to create more offspring. To either add power to their House, or, well, to try and make you.” He gestures to me.
It makes me sick. But it’s true. Cyrus greatly rewarded the families I was born into. When I was Edith, it was my father’s major goal in life: to produce the offspring that would one day wake up as the Queen.
“I don’t know,” Alivia says, shaking her head. “It’s just…the odds of this happening randomly? They just have to be non-existent.”
She looks up at me, and I don’t know what to say. “I don’t know,” I admit, shaking my head. “Both arguments seem solid and logical. I think for now though, we have to treat this like he knew what he was doing. I don’t want to approach him yet, neither of us know anything about the man. But I think we need to see if he remembers Alivia or not. We have to test it.”
Ian nods. “It would give us some answers. If he plays dumb and doesn’t seem to remember Alivia, we’ll be able to tell. If he admits to it, we’ll know it was a power play and I’m sure he’ll be happy to claim responsibility for bringing you back into the world. It would give us some answers.”
I nod. “It’s a start. Alivia, we’ll have you discreetly identify him and then I’ll have Mina bring him in.”
She nods and I know Mina could hear everything when the door opens, revealing her, waiting just outside. Alivia and Ian stand, joining the menacing looking woman.
“Make him sweat first,” I tell Mina. “Let him imagine the worst and he’ll confess the truth easier.”
Mina nods and the three of them leave.
Chapter 9
“You’re sure about this?” Dorian asks as he takes his phone from his pocket. There’s wariness in his eyes. They question and hope I will take it back. “You know this will take time. That this won’t be resolved quickly.”
“I understand that,” I say. “Just do it.”
Dorian and Malachi look at one another, each just as nervous about my plan as the other. But they take out their phones, and they make some incredibly life-changing phone calls.
I called this a game. But there is very little that is entertaining in all of this. This is tactical. It’s black and conniving. This will scare the hell out of the people.
But I know it will work.
I stare out the window as Dorian and Malachi plan with their connections. We speak in Cyrus’ office. There’s a view out the front, one that looks out over Roter Himmel.
It’s an enchanting town. The castle sits above the city. There are two main roads, one that leads down from the castle toward the lake. The other cuts to this side of the lake, then wraps around it where it heads to the mountain pass, and eventually leads to the tiny town that supports the airport we use.
Homes dot the landscape here. Some small cottages. Others, large sprawling mansions. There are shops and markets. I see people milling about down there, just like this is their normal life. They shop. They raise their families.
But this isn’t a normal town, those aren’t normal lives.
Down there, there are Royal vampires and humans. They live in harmony. These humans know our secrets and willingly let us feed off of them. They are taken care of, in exchange for protection and financial security.
There is no other place in the world like Roter Himmel.
The Royals here don’t have glory, they don’t have attention. They don’t lead Houses. But they get comfort. They can be their true selves, they don’t have to hide. It’s not like the outside world, where Alivia and Ian, and Lexington Dawes have to keep the secret of what they are.
We live in the open here.
And if I don’t do something to protect it, others will try to tear it apart.
“It is done, Queen Sevan,” Dorian says as he comes to stand at my side. “They will all arrive over the next two days.”
Malachi then comes to stand beside me. “My armies have agreed, as well. They will be here shortly.”
“Good,” I say coldly as I look at the home I love so much. And my heart hurts.
Because I know the hell I am about to unleash on my people.
* * *
In the comfort of the belly of the castle, I push the door open and slip inside the lab. The air is cool and crisp with moisture. I light the torches, casting the space in a warm glow of flame.
I force my heart to be calm as I walk across the room. Cyrus lies there in silhouette. With shallow breaths, I silently walk to his side.
Carefully, I remove the bandages, tossing them into the fire pit.
With reverence in my breath, I dare to look at his neck.
Smooth, creamy skin stretches from his chin to his collarbones. Unbroken flesh wraps around his neck.
He’s healed.
Everything looks natural, as perfect as it did weeks ago when I said goodbye to Cyrus back in Greendale.
“Where are you, Cyrus?” I whisper.
My heart hurts. I ache. I want to reach inside his soul and search for anything to grab onto, any sign he is there, and pull him back into the here and now.
“I don’t know what else to do, Cyrus,” I confess. I place a hand on his cheek, caressing his face. “I’ve done everything I’ve watched you do. I’ve used blood and ash and mud. I’ve prayed and begged. I’ve done my part.”
My lower lip trembles and I feel weak. “Now you have to find your way back to me.”
I climb up onto the table, and gently, I raise his right arm, wrapping it around my shoulders. I rest my head on his chest. I press my forehead into his cheek.
I’ve touched a lot of dead bodies over the last year. They’re cold. They turn hard and stiff.
Cyrus isn’t cold, but he isn’t warm. He isn’t stiff, but he’s dead weight.
I don’t know if
he’s dead. He certainly isn’t in a coma. But his soul certainly isn’t in him right now.
“Where are you, im yndmisht srtov?”
I’m desperate, so that makes it harder. But I’ve found him in sleep before, so I tell myself to sleep, to sink into the dark.
And because I don’t need it so often, and I have so much lately, it takes me at least two hours, but eventually, I slip between the folds of reality.
* * *
I see him sitting on a rocky outcrop that juts over the lake. Across the field I walk, watching him the entire time.
He sits with his knees tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His shoulders are tense, the line of his lips, tight. The stormy sky above is reflected in his eyes, dark and serious.
I reach the base of the rocks and begin the short climb. I pull myself onto the flat landing and take the two steps to his side, sitting beside him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
If I surprised him with my arrival, he doesn’t show it. He just continues staring out over the lake.
“I think I’m finally tired,” he says. His voice is shaky, just a little bit. Unsure.
“Tired?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
He doesn’t immediately explain. He just stares, reflective. “It’s been so long. The same patterns over and over. And here I fight to do it all again. I fight so desperately to get out of this hell. And for what? To do the same things over and over.”
His words make my heart trip.
I have never, ever heard Cyrus speak this way.
“A life as long as yours is bound to get a little monotonous,” I say, struggling to find some wisdom. “But that’s the good thing about being individuals. We choose our direction, every day.”
Cyrus shakes his head. “It’s been so long. I think I’m finally tired, Sevan. But still, it comes. The dark during the light.”
* * *
Like I was slapped, I jerk awake. I rise up on my elbow, looking down at Cyrus.
“No,” I say, scrambling to my knees. I grip his shoulders, shaking him. “Don’t you dare give up on me.” I’m frantic, my words coming out too fast. “This is not over, Cyrus. This is not how you go down. We can change things. Don’t you dare leave me here.”
Tears pool in my eyes as I think about that empty look in his eyes.
Hell. That’s what Cyrus said he’d been in.
Lonely, empty hell.
“Wake up, damn it!” I yell, shaking his body roughly. “I need you, Cyrus! I won’t let you leave me!” I slap him across the face as one tear slips down my face.
He doesn’t react.
I breathe in a big breath, shifting so that I kneel beside him. I cover his mouth with mine and breathe five breaths into him. I then place my hands on his ribcage and do ten compressions over his heart.
I repeat the process ten times, crying the entire time.
“Wake up,” I sob as I start the eleventh repetition.
But as I stare down at him, he doesn’t gasp. He doesn’t open his eyes. His chest doesn’t rise and fall on its own.
“I won’t let you stay there,” I promise him, anger creeping into my voice. “You don’t get to give up on me. You took away my choice once.” Black vipers rise up in my blood. “This time I’m taking away yours. I will find a way to bring you back, whether you like it or not.”
I take a step back from him, swallowing once.
It’s a promise. One I’ll move heaven and hell to keep.
So I turn, holding my chin high, and I leave.
Chapter 10
With so few in the castle, because I don’t trust anyone right now, it takes a long time to find anyone. I wander through multiple levels, listening for anyone. Finally, on the fourth floor, I hear someone on the far side. Following the noise, I step into a room where Alivia and Ian are quietly talking.
“What’s going on?” I ask, probably sharper than necessary.
Alivia looks pale white, like she’s going to throw up any minute. Ian doesn’t look happy.
“We found him,” she says. “We followed him around town for a few hours.”
My mouth instantly goes dry.
I know exactly who she’s talking about.
My biological father.
“And?” I question. But the word comes out rough and quiet.
Alivia swallows, and when she can’t immediately find her words, Ian speaks for her.
“He didn’t do anything suspicious,” he says. “He went to the tavern. Fed from a feeder. He went to his house, and didn’t seem to do anything abnormal for the few hours we watched him.”
I kind of hate that. This would be so much easier if he was just obviously up to something. But if he appears normal, it means it will be much more difficult to get clear answers.
“Mina went inside and arrested him,” Alivia finishes. “She didn’t give him any kind of explanation, just that he was being taken to the castle for eventual questioning.”
Eventual. I know what that means. It’s a tactic we’ve used frequently. As immortals, we’re rarely in a hurry. But the days are incredibly long when you’re locked up in a dungeon. Letting a person sit for an extended period of time makes them confess sooner.
“So, he’s here?” I ask.
With a grim set to her lips, Alivia nods.
“He’s down in a cell on the lower level,” Ian says. “I put him in solitary. We figured we better talk to you first before we decide how to proceed.”
I nod, but I feel my vision glaze over a little as my brain runs a million miles a minute.
Meeting Alivia was scary. And I’d at least had a few people tell me a little bit about her. But my biological father? Every single thing about him is unknown, except that he is a Royal vampire.
None of us even know his name.
I wipe my hands on my pants, trying not to be so terrified.
“I want to see him,” I say without even thinking about it.
Alivia goes even paler, but Ian nods his head and walks to the door. Hesitantly, Alivia steps to my side and we follow her husband.
“Can I ask,” I say as we make our way through the passageways. “Because it’s pretty obvious you are. Why are you so terrified?”
Alivia looks over at me, a mix of a glare and surprise in her eyes.
“You just thought it was a hook up, you didn’t know what was going on,” I say. “You don’t know anything about the man as far as you’ve led me to believe. So why are you so scared?”
My mother, who only looks a year or two older than me, looks away. She shakes her head. “I think it’s because of when I saw him again, here in Roter Himmel,” she says. “I wasn’t…in a good place…in every way, when I saw him again.” She seems uncomfortable, unsure how to explain this. “And when I saw him, that’s when I realized what it meant for you.”
She looks over at me. “I gave you up for adoption because I thought it was best for you, that this was the way I could give you the best life possible. But when I saw him…” She shakes her head. “I knew it meant so many different things, and that it would ruin that normal life I’d tried to give you.”
She stares ahead. Even though she is a vampire, an immortal, and all of her instincts make her calm and deadly, her hands shake. “I guess that fear and panic is just coming back from that moment. And there are so many unknowns. I want answers.”
“I think you’d be a little nervous, too, if you had to wonder if a man had somehow known what you were long before you did,” Ian says as we turn a corner and descend down a flight of stairs.
We walk down a hall and turn into another. It’s dark down here. It smells of moisture and despair.
I’m reminded that there are as many occupants in the castle as there are prisoners. There is that group my interrogators collected when trying to vet the kingdom.
Just one more thing I need to deal with.
Finally, we turn down a hall past the entrance to the prison. There is a heavy metal door that Ian
swings open. Inside is an interrogation room, much like the one I used before.
I wasn’t ready.
I really wasn’t.
Not yet.
But just inside, there is a window.
Beyond that is a room.
And sitting inside is a man.
His shoulders are broad and his frame is strong. Sitting down, I can tell he isn’t particularly tall, I’d guess around five foot nine. The dark blue t-shirt he wears reveals strong forearms and scarred hands.
His face is covered with thick facial hair that looks like it was shaved about five days ago. Thick, dark brown hair covers his head.
And here, even outside the room, even in the dim light, I can see his eyes.
More yellow than green, they stand out, striking.
They look exactly like mine.
Everything in me snags. Stutters. Hiccups.
Thunder, thunder, beat, beat, beat.
There he is.
The man who made up the other half of my DNA.
And I don’t know a single thing about him.
Not his name.
Not if he’s a good or evil person.
Nothing whatsoever.
He sits calmly at the table, staring blankly at the wall across from him.
I can’t read anything off of him.
“No one has said anything to him since he was brought in?” I ask, staring at the man.
“No,” Ian says.
I nod. “And he hasn’t said anything?”
He shakes his head.
Once more, I nod.
“It’s only been about four hours,” Ian says, looking back at the man his wife once slept with. “You said you wanted him to sweat it out for a while.”
“Leave him for another twenty-four hours,” I say. For just a second, a hitch of panic jumps in my stomach. Because we’re on a timeline now, the clock is ticking. “I want both of you to meet me back here, then. We’ll get some answers out of him.”
I turn and stalk down the hall. Away, putting distance between myself and that man.
I need to talk to someone about this. To go over and over how messed up this is. How I’m a product of a mistake or a manipulation.