Serpenti

by Brooke Sivendra

  “I have a few good ideas,” Abi said coquettishly, wiggling her eyebrows as she propped herself up on her elbows.

  Asher tilted her chin to his, brushing his soft lips over hers. His lips were surprisingly soft and tantalizing.

  Asher’s eyes widened suddenly. “I didn’t even think to ask you. I just assumed you’re on birth control.”

  “Relax,” Abi said, “I am. I think the last thing you need right now is a baby to complicate things.”

  He seemed thoughtful. “Not right this second,” he said, searching her eyes. “But someday. Santina needs an heir,” he said, and then his expression turned thoughtful. “Well, the heir could become one of my cousin’s children. But I’d like it if it was my own.”

  She smiled. “I want children, Asher.”

  His hands went to her hips and his thumbs spread over her stomach. Abi didn’t even know if he realized he was doing it. “One day,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers.

  It was two words, but in that moment she knew they meant more than that. It was his commitment, his promise of their future. And despite her concerns of whether she was right for him, she wanted him. She wanted to walk beside him every day. She wanted to be there for him if everything seemed insurmountable. She wanted to be his queen, and to serve Santina.

  The silence between them became electrified, and she lowered her mouth to his.

  He kissed her again, but this time it was different. It was a promise.

  “I will take care of you, Abi,” he said.

  She’d never thought of herself as someone who needed taking care of—she’d always been the one to take care of others—but there was something about Asher’s promise that made her heart warm.

  “And I’ll take care of you,” she said, looking deep into his eyes.

  He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. “Forever,” he whispered, his throat thick.

  “Forever,” she said, placing a lingering kiss on his forehead.

  Forever.

  Their moment only lasted a second before a knock on the door interrupted them. By the sound of the fist banging, it wasn’t good news.

  Asher swore under his breath as Abi climbed off, tucking herself under the sheets. Asher strode to the bathroom, grabbing a robe before opening the door. James stood with his fist up, ready to smash down the door.

  “What?” Asher asked, his tone sharp—likely sharper than he’d intended.

  However, James didn’t seem to care one bit.

  “You need to look at something,” he said.

  Asher was silent a moment. “Give me a minute,” he finally said, resigned.

  Asher closed the door and returned to the bed. He leaned over, cupping her cheeks. “Stay here and get some rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Wake me up if you need anything.”

  His lips lingered on hers and with a heavy sigh he pushed off the bed, dressed and left.

  The suite was quiet and Abi didn’t hear any arguing voices outside the door. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  She pulled the blanket up to her chin and exhaled a soft sigh. Asher had given her the release she’d been craving and, as she closed her eyes, she felt the pull of sleep take her.

  Abi opened her eyes, rubbing them. The bed beside her was empty.

  She put a hand on the crumpled, cold sheets.

  Had Asher come to bed at all last night?

  Abi sighed, desperately needing a shower. She found a fresh towel in the bathroom and a stack of clean clothes that someone—perhaps her mom—must’ve picked up from her apartment. But first she remembered the little white pill in her jeans. She grabbed it, relieved when she found it still tucked in the pocket. She flushed it down the toilet, not wanting anyone to accidentally ingest it thinking it was something else.

  Then she turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the hot water run over the front of her body. She kept her back dry and protected. It wasn’t the best shower of her life, but regardless it felt so good.

  She turned on the television as she dressed. She rummaged through her makeup bag until she found a bottle of foundation.

  And then it fell from her hands, shattering on the bathroom floor as her head snapped to the television.

  The death toll continues to rise after last night’s terrorist attacks.

  Abi couldn’t breathe as she watched the blackened and destroyed city hall filled with frantic first responders helping out the injured.

  370 are dead, and hundreds more are unaccounted for.

  She stepped over the shattered bottle and ran. Security was alert as she rushed out of the living quarters.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “Asher is in his office,” one of them responded, but she was already running in that direction.

  James was standing outside, talking on his cell phone when Abi arrived. He opened the door and her heart sank into the pit of her stomach when she saw Asher hunched over his desk, his face buried in his hands.

  “I’ll keep you informed,” someone said over the telephone.

  “Thank you,” Asher responded, ending the call as he looked up at Abi.

  She fought to keep her face impassive but his bloodshot eyes and drained face made her heart stop.

  “Maybe Santina will fall after all,” he said, hanging his head in his hands. The despondency in his voice was heartbreaking.

  She rushed to him.

  “No,” she said, taking his hands, forcing him to look at her. “You don’t believe that and neither do I. Santina will not fall, not on your watch.”

  “It wasn’t enough,” he said through gritted teeth. “They’re attacking anyway. Thomas Security stopped a few of them, but they couldn’t stop all of them.”

  Abi touched his jaw, guiding his face back to hers. “Now we fight back,” she said, locking her eyes on his.

  This time he didn’t look away. This time she saw fire in his eyes, and that was a hell of a lot better than defeat.

  “James!” Asher called, suddenly.

  James entered as if he’d been approaching before Asher had called him in.

  Abi noted the white envelope in his hands. He’d been holding it outside, looking at it while he’d been on the telephone, but she hadn’t had time to think it through.

  “What’s that?” Asher asked.

  “A letter from Colonel Stevens,” James responded.

  Asher

  “From the colonel?” Asher asked, his eyebrows weaving together.

  James nodded. “Sit down,” he said before giving Asher the envelope.

  Asher hadn’t realized he’d stood, but admittedly his mind was a mess. He didn’t like being told to sit down, either—nothing good ever followed that command.

  James hesitated and then passed him the envelope.

  Asher unfolded it, noting it was a handwritten letter. “Have you verified this?” he asked, not wanting to read it until it had been.

  James nodded. “Yes. It arrived at the palace about an hour ago, and Samuel verified it a few minutes ago. It must’ve been written shortly before his death. We’re still trying to work out why there was a delay in it being delivered through the post.”

  Asher’s hands trembled slightly. Abi stood beside him with her hand on his shoulder.

  Asher drew a deep breath and prepared himself for what he knew was going to be more devastating news.

  Dear King Asher,

  I write this letter with great regret—regret that I did not send this letter to your father. I have asked myself time and time again if I could’ve prevented his death had I passed on what I have seen and heard.

  These accusations are unfounded, but I know I have wasted too much time already and perhaps you are the only one who can verify them.

  Santina is bleeding from the artery.

  I have seen things—small clues—that caused me to watch some members of our military more closely. I fear this has garnered me too much attention, bu
t that is a price I am willing to pay. Your father loved Santina, as do I.

  Six months ago, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I saw something I was never meant to see, and something I spent months wishing I hadn’t seen.

  I saw Henry Walter in Santina, and he was not alone—Alistair was with him.

  I do not know what was spoken about at the meeting, but it did not look like a friendly discussion. This was the first sign that something was perhaps wrong, but I could not be sure. Henry Walter has a unique role to play in this world; he is often called in to clean up “messes” that governments can’t be seen dealing with. I wanted to give Alistair the benefit of the doubt, but now I fear that was a fatal decision.

  There is one military unit you need to watch carefully—104Raiders. They disappear at times and talk in hushed whispers. These things alone are not for grave concern, but they speak of a man I do not know, and cannot find.

  Martin Snider.

  I have heard whispers about him, but I cannot find out who he is. He is Santinian, of that I am sure. I think the name is an alias, that he is someone who does not want to be known. All the same, his name raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

  A few nights ago, I received a telephone conversation from Martin Snider. His voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. He asked me for one thing: allegiance to the Santina Revolt.

  I do not know specifically what this Santina Revolt is, and the questions I have asked have not been well received, but this is something you should know about, and you should use whatever means necessary to destroy it.

  Find Martin Snider, and you will find the root of this revolt.

  If something were to happen to me before you read this, please know that I gave my life willingly to protect our beloved Santina.

  Yours faithfully,

  Colonel Stevens

  Asher stared at the letter. While it mostly confirmed what they already knew, it gave him one important truth: Alistair was still lying.

  Asher looked to James. “Bring Alistair to me.”

  James left without a word.

  Asher stood, moving toward the large windows that looked out onto the garden.

  We fight back.

  Abi’s words repeated in his mind—that letter couldn’t have come at a better time. A few minutes ago he’d been overwhelmed and didn’t want the responsibility of his title.

  But it was his title, and no one could do this but him.

  The colonel had given his life for Santina, and Asher would do the same if he had to. But for now, all he had to do was fight.

  Jesse had round one with Alistair, and Asher would have round two, because Asher knew all the buttons to push with his brother.

  “I’ll come back,” Abi said.

  Asher shook his head. “Stay,” he said, knowing her presence would only help to unravel Alistair. When Alistair had brought up Asher’s involvement in IFRT, there had been something in his eyes—hatred, perhaps—and Asher didn’t think it was all aimed at IFRT. He couldn’t imagine what Abi would’ve done to him, but maybe it was what she hadn’t done. Asher thought that Alistair hated the fact that Asher had been able to date Abigail Bennett, and then convince their father to support the relationship. Abi should’ve been off limits to both brothers.

  Abi stood behind his desk, watching him carefully.

  He walked over, cupped her cheeks, and then kissed her forehead. His lips lingered, never ready to let her go.

  Asher heard a knock on the door before it swung open and Alistair, disheveled and dirty, was led in by James. His hands were cuffed and by the marks around his ankles, Asher knew his legs had been bound too.

  He stared at Alistair, but no guilt came to the surface of his mind. Alistair had dug his own grave and as far as Asher was concerned, he had Noah’s and their father’s blood on his hands.

  Alistair threw a foul look Asher’s way, but it took him a second to realize Abi was there. When he did, his eyes flared, confirming everything that Asher suspected. To her credit, Abi didn’t flinch but she did look uncomfortable.

  “Brother,” Alistair said, his voice laced with contempt.

  “Sit down,” Asher said.

  “A couch. What a privilege,” Alistair said with a crooked smile.

  “I instructed security to give you the same treatment Abi was given. I’m assuming you don’t like it,” Asher said calmly.

  If looks could kill, Alistair would’ve pierced his soul with the look in his eyes, and it took Asher aback for a moment.

  “What happened to you?” Asher asked.

  Alistair scoffed. “Don’t play innocent, Asher.”

  “Innocent? I’m not playing anything, Alistair,” Asher said, his voice cutting. “I’m giving you one final chance to tell me what you’ve been doing. If you don’t, I’m going to have you executed on charges of treason. You have five minutes to convince me otherwise,” Asher said, his heart breaking as he said the words. He truly understood how his father had felt convicting his own brother of fraud. He’d imprisoned him for life, though, rather than executing him, but Asher didn’t have a choice. Anyone involved in the murder of King Martin had to face execution.

  “Why is she here?” he said, not looking at Abi.

  “Because she will be queen, and palace business is now her business,” Asher said.

  “You will never be queen,” he said, looking straight at Abi.

  “That is Asher’s decision, not yours,” Abi said.

  Anger flashed in Alistair’s eyes, and he returned his attention to Asher. “If you knew the truth about her, you would never make her queen.”

  Asher fought to remain impassive. “What truth?” he asked calmly.

  Alistair stared at Asher, and finally said, “Perhaps it’s best for you to find out on your own.” He shrugged.

  Asher refused to let Alistair get under his skin. If Abi wasn’t who he knew she was, Thomas Security would’ve told him otherwise. This had to be another play by Alistair, because Abi was just another target to him.

  “You’re not here to talk about Abi. You’re here to tell me about your meeting with Henry Walter, and your relationship with Martin Snider,” Asher said. “Give me something to work with, Alistair. Don’t force my hand.”

  Asher dragged a chair over to the couch and sat so that he was at eye level with Alistair. He positioned the chair back far enough that Alistair couldn’t lunge at him, even though James was sitting beside him, poised like he was ready for an attack.

  “Contrary to what you think, I went to the meeting with Henry Walter with good intentions. He’s a disease, and I thought nothing good could come from his presence in Santina,” Alistair said, sounding like himself for the first time since he’d been dragged in.

  “What was discussed at this meeting?” Asher asked.

  Alistair chuckled scornfully. “I went on the pretense of finding a new dealer,” he said. “I was playing dumb, just trying to break the ice and get him to think I was an ignorant, drug-addicted prince. I mean, that wasn’t much of a stretch, was it, Asher? You thought the same.”

  Asher raised an eyebrow. “Actually, no I didn’t. Everyone thought you had the potential, but had made a run of bad decisions. You brought that upon yourself, so don’t be a martyr.”

  “Don’t be a martyr,” he repeated with a strained laugh. “Life is so easy for you, isn’t it? Everything has been handed to you.”

  “Handed to me?” Asher asked, his voice raising. “Would you stop thinking of yourself for a minute? Look at my fucking life! I lost my brother—my best friend—and my father in a matter of weeks. I’m being attacked and undermined from every angle, including by my own family, and my patience is running out. You have three minutes to start talking, Alistair, or I swear to God this will be the last conversation we ever have!”

  Asher was shaking, but he kept his hands in his lap to hide it. His anger, and the emotions he’d been suppressing all night, were bubbling to the surface and a small part of him
was scared he’d kill Alistair himself.

  “Fuck you, Asher!” Alistair spat, his eyes wide with rage. “You think I’m the bad guy? You think I killed our father? If you knew me at all, you would know I’d never do that.”

  “You sold holy land, forged our father’s signature, and you were the only person who knew when they were leaving on the morning they were killed. What am I supposed to think?” Asher asked through gritted teeth.

  “I didn’t know,” Alistair said. “I didn’t know what was going to happen!” His gaze returned to Abi. “Get her the fuck out of here.”

  Asher lost control, and he grabbed Alistair’s shirt. “If you ever speak to her like that again—”

  James stepped in, putting a hand on Asher’s chest. “Talk, Alistair. My patience is wearing thin, and I’m not as nice as Jesse. I’ll shred you into pieces if that’s what it takes to get the truth.”

  Alistair shrank back at the menacing tone of James’s voice. Asher did the same, even though it wasn’t directed at him. Asher wondered in that moment what James was capable of, and then decided he didn’t want to know.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Alistair said, his expression suddenly breaking down. “Martin Snider has my child, and he’s going to kill him if he finds out that I even told you that,” Alistair said hoarsely. “For once I was trying to do something good, something unselfish . . .” He looked down and shook his head. Asher had never seen him appear so broken. “And I still managed to fuck it up.”

  “You have a child?” Asher asked, his voice a whisper.

  “DNA results came back positive,” he mumbled, still not looking up. “I knocked up someone on a wild night out. She kept the baby, of course—she thought she was going to raise the future heir of Santina. But after the succession changed, and she realized this kid was never going to be king, she lost interest in him. She’s a fucking junkie, worse than I am. Martin Snider stepped in, paid her money, and she gave him up. Now he has him, and I’m at his mercy. You can think what you want of me . . . but everything I’ve done has been to protect him.”

  “You should’ve come to me,” Asher said, his words pained. “I would’ve helped you.” His mind reeled—he knew now why the little boy in the photographs on Noah’s computer looked familiar: because he looked like Alistair, and Noah had known.