by Keary Taylor
“Thank you,” I say, offering him a small smile.
He only bows his head once, and leaves the room.
I scroll through my phone, looking at the names.
House of Himura.
House of Dorian.
House of Martials.
House of Sidra.
House of Conrath.
I stare at the last name for a long time.
For the past twenty years of my life, I have wondered. What my birth parents were like. Who I looked like more. Where they were.
And now I could tap that screen right now, and in a few seconds I could speak to the woman who gave birth to me.
I turn the screen off, and look around, my heart racing.
Not yet.
Someday.
But not today.
I grab my bag, and walk down the stairs.
The house is in a state of calming chaos. Those from the House of Valdez that came here as security are now standing around, waiting to depart. Mina walks in and out of the house, wearing those special sunglasses, carrying bags. Fredrick paces back and forth, speaking on the phone.
But Cyrus stands by the front door.
I very nearly can’t handle the pain in his eyes when I look at him. It nearly breaks me, makes me say I’ll go with him, return to our home.
But I can’t.
He watches me as I walk across the foyer toward him, my bag in hand. He looks me up and down, his gaze so penetrating I nearly feel relieved. Surely he can see down to my heart and understand why I must do what I am doing.
But that pain. It tells me he doesn’t.
“Why?” he asks when I stop before him.
“Do you not understand? Even a little?” I ask, begging him to try. I set my bag down, looking up into his eyes.
His lip trembles. His nostrils flare just slightly. His hands are rolled into fists.
“Please,” he says. His voice quivers. “Just come home with me. I swear I will make it all better.”
Splinter.
He breaks me. Fractures me.
I’m a ruin because of this man.
“No,” I say, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Not yet.”
He reaches for my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. A single tear drips onto my skin as he kisses it. “You will come back though?”
He looks up into my eyes for the truthful answer.
“I promise.” And my defense crumbles slightly as I take another half a step forward. I place a hand on his cheek. “I promise, im yndmisht srtov.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing out another tear. He presses his lips to my palm and then lets it go, standing straight.
“I shall return home and wait then,” he says, gathering himself. “We will do our best to keep things quiet, but I suspect it won’t be long before the entire world knows of your return. Until then, if you need anything, please…” There’s that look in his eyes. The one that says he will turn the world inside out for me. And it makes this even harder. “Until then, this house is yours to use as you need. Everything in it is yours.”
I offer him a sad little smile. “Thank you,” I say. “Be safe, Cyrus.”
He just stares at me, and I hate knowing how much pain I am causing him right now.
So I stoop, picking up my bag. The members of the House of Valdez scramble forward, taking it from me.
And I can’t look back as I walk out the front door after slipping on my sunshades. Because if I do, I won’t really be able to leave.
The guards load my bag into Cyrus’ black sports car. I pull the keys out of my purse and watch as the guards load into their own vehicles. I drop into the drivers seat and start the engine.
Backing out, I make myself not look at the front door where I know Cyrus is watching. I point the nose of the car down the driveway and pull out to the main road.
Using voice commands, I set the navigation to the MetroCosmo in Las Vegas. Through the Colorado heat, I start on my way to Nevada.
I never would have texted or called while driving as a human. But my vampire senses could drive this car all the way to Vegas and not have to look at the road. So with my eyes on my phone, I scroll through the directory Fredrick sent me. I stop when I see House O’Rourke and hit call.
It rings five times before someone answers.
“Siobhan,” I say, goose bumps flashing over my arms. In some ways sliding back into my old life is like swimming through tar. In others, it’s like putting on a familiar old sweater. “It’s Sevan. I need to talk to Larkin.”
I’m met with silence for a very long moment. I consider explaining. Telling her where I am. But Cyrus is right: we do need to be careful. I’ve been in these politics long enough to know it isn’t wise to go spouting my whereabouts to every Royal in the world.
“Give me just a minute to find him,” she squeaks out.
Indeed, a minute later, I hear the sound of the phone rustling. And then a deep, smooth voice comes through from around the world.
“Is it true?” he says.
“Yes,” I say over the speakerphone. “Just twenty-four hours ago. I need your help.”
I can imagine him. The serious look on his dark face. The danger in his eyes. “Anything, my queen.”
My skin tingles at his address. “I need you to meet me at the House of Valdez in eleven hours. Can you make it?”
This is where Sevan and Logan clash. Because one side of my brain thinks the request is absolutely ludicrous. Larkin is with the House O’Rourke, in Ireland. Last time I walked the earth, it would have taken weeks of sailing across the ocean and then a transcontinental trek to reach me in Las Vegas.
But Logan has flown thousands of miles. She knows how fast Cyrus reached Greendale just a month ago from Austria.
“Give me twelve and I will be there,” Larkin says.
“Done,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”
Chapter 4
The feeling of his hands on my shoulders was the first thing that felt familiar. The warmth of them. The size. The strength held in their grasp. And the edge of danger I felt from them.
“Take your pick,” he had whispered in my ear.
Warily, I looked over my shoulder at his face.
For years—my whole life—I had known this day was coming. It had been planned, scheduled to occur on my eighteenth birthday. And now, four days later, here I stood, just sixty seconds after finally rising from the acid of Resurrection and opening my eyes.
“You can take any of them,” the King breathed in my ear.
Instantly the hunger was controlling, and I rushed forward, to the line of humans in the great ballroom. The woman’s eyes widened a bit, a moment of fear before she met her end as my fangs sank into her neck and I drank her dry.
When I’d satisfied my thirst, I turned, and looked at the crowd that waited behind me.
There was the King. Whose rule we had lived under my entire life. There was my father, Lord Bastian. My mother was a woman who had come and then gone once I was weaned from her breast.
There were other members of the Court. Important people. Some I had known for as long as I could remember. Others who were so close to the king I was seeing them now for the very first time.
“How do you feel, Edith?” my father asked.
I looked at him. At his expectant face, so hopeful. So desperate to be the one to produce the offspring who would finally awaken. “I…” I shook my head. I wanted to take a step back. To retreat into the dark corners of the castle and go back to being one of a dozen human children in Roter Himmel, looked over until their time came. But all eyes were on me. “I don’t remember anything.”
The King stepped forward. The look in his eyes was dark and complicated. “It takes time, my dear.” Slowly, he crossed to me, where the woman laid dead at my feet. The humans still stood lined up, as if waiting to see if the urge for more would strike me. Every one of them waited willingly for me to kill them. “Over the course of the next few weeks, you are a guest at t
he castle. I’d very much like to get to know you, Lady Edith. And I hope you will not shy away from getting to know me.”
He placed a hand at the small of my back, guiding me toward the doorway at the edge of the ballroom.
Scared, so scared and unsure and absolutely overwhelmed, I looked back at my father.
There was a gleam in his eyes, something pleased, and he nodded encouragingly.
I swallowed once, telling myself to be brave, and walked through the doors, to a new place, a new life, side by side with King Cyrus.
* * *
A shiver works its way down my back as I pull up to the curb at The MetroCosmo. A valet immediately comes to my door, opening it for me. I step out, double-checking my sunshades as I climb out.
The sun is just barely beginning to creep into the horizon. I drove all through the night to get here, stopping for gas just once, and draining the attendant of half of his blood.
I think he will survive. I don’t think he’ll turn to a Bitten.
I hope.
The cars in front of and behind me stop, and guards from the House of Valdez hop out, one man taking my bag from the trunk of my car.
I turn to the incredible doors of the casino, and just then Hector, Raphael, and Edmond walk out.
Where there was once a twinkle of annoyance in his eyes when Hector looked at me, now there is only reverence.
All three of them bow deeply.
“My Queen,” each of them mutters.
Logan and Sevan clash. To Sevan, it is so familiar. So natural. She stands a little straighter, holding her chin high. But Logan wants to recoil and scoff a little.
“Hector,” I address him. “Edmond. Raphael. It’s a pleasure to meet you…for the first and second time.”
They don’t know how to react to that, but all three of them do their best to contain it.
“We are honored that you chose to spend time with us in your first hours of Resurrection,” Hector says, and I do hear the surprise and humility in his voice. “Though we are surprised to see you here without your husband.”
I raise my chin just a little higher and look behind them so I don’t have to meet their eyes. “Cyrus had business to attend to back in Roter Himmel, and I had my own.”
The growling roar of an engine reverberates against the walls as a huge black truck stops just behind my caravan.
For the first time since I woke up, a little smile curls on my face.
Larkin steps out from the driver’s seat. The danger in his eyes is dominant as he walks around to join us at the doors.
He stands over six feet tall, well over two hundred pounds. His dark chocolate skin flows smoothly over heavily muscled arms. His black t-shirt stretches over an even more toned chest. Black boots are strapped about his feet and even though he wears black jeans, I know he’s hiding a multitude of weapons on his person.
His eyes remain fixed on my face as he approaches, but he keeps them controlled, hiding his emotions. He stops just three feet from me and takes a deep bow as he takes my hand.
“It is an honor to stand in your presence once more, my Queen,” he says in his deep voice.
Briefly, he kisses my knuckles.
“It is good to see you again, Larkin,” I say as my smile spreads. He stands, and I don’t hesitate in wrapping my arms around his thick middle, resting my cheek against his chest.
I sense it: the entire House of Valdez watching the reunion of their long-dead queen and her most trusted operative. But I don’t really care. Right now I’m lost in the overwhelming relief of feeling that for now, just one single thing is right.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” I say as I release him. He only nods once, but I see it there in his eyes now: he’s happy to return to me.
“Larkin,” Raphael says with a nod. “It’s…good to see you again.”
His tone says otherwise.
“Come,” Hector says, angling his body toward the doors. “Your friend from the House of Conrath is waiting for you.”
He stands to the side, waiting for me to enter first. Conflict once more claws its way through my blood as I walk forward. Larkin immediately follows me.
The MetroCosmo is even more impressive as a vampire. My eyes can more fully appreciate the richness of the purples and blues that reflect on the mirrors. My skin tingles with the electric energy.
But my nose feels assaulted.
There’s the scent of blood, but most overwhelming are the unwashed bodies after sitting at the tables too long. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol.
I’m beginning to understand a little better why Cyrus dislikes Las Vegas so much.
It’s kind of disgusting.
I lead the way to the elevator I’ve ridden in before. Hector places his hand on the mirror, and the doors open.
“Unless you have another request,” he says once everyone is inside and the doors slide closed. “We’ve placed you in the same room as your last visit.”
“That’s just fine,” I say. And Logan wants to say stop making such a fuss over me and chill.
With impressive speed, we rocket up through the belly of the casino. Up and up and up and then finally we slow, and the doors open. We all step out.
I walk forward and immediately turn left to go to my room when Hector speaks out.
“My Queen,” he says. I turn and look back at him, Larkin just to my side. “May I ask: what can we expect from your visit? And how long do you wish to stay?”
And I don’t know who it is—Sevan or Logan—who lets the smile curl on my lips. “I’ll stay as long as I need. And as for what to expect, just plan to stay on your toes.”
I shouldn’t appreciate the uncertainty and worry in their eyes so much. But I do. I really do.
I finish the short walk down the hall and place my hand on the mirror. The doors to my suite slide open, and we step inside.
A glittering mirror chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the central lounge room. The lights are dim and low, but still, those purples and reds dazzle me.
But I don’t have much attention for them.
Not when my oldest friend from this life sits in a chair, looking at me.
Rath immediately stands, his posture overly at attention, his eyes wide and expectant. “Logan,” he breathes. “Are you…are you alright?”
I stop outside the circle of chairs and couches, studying him.
Once more, I search, trying to recall.
But I’m certain.
I’ve never met Cornelius Rath before this life.
But it’s his scent. It’s his heart. His blood.
Rath isn’t a vampire—Born or Bitten. But he’s definitely not human either.
“So it’s done then,” he says, watching me with regret in his eyes. “You’ve Resurrected.”
I nod once, taking a step closer. Like a shadow, Larkin steps forward as well, and Rath’s eyes slide over to him.
“And you know this man?” Rath says, as if sizing him up. Comparing himself to Larkin. And I see the angst in his eyes. The disappointment. Because Eli knows everyone in my life, and Rath does not know this man who stands so protectively near.
“Yes,” I confirm. I stop beside a high-backed chair, resting my hand on it. “Larkin is a friend. Someone I trust even more than I once trusted you.”
I knew my words would hurt Eli. But he tries to hide it.
And he bows to me, his head sinking low. “Then hail to the Queen.” He straightens once more, his expression hardening. “It is an honor to meet you, after hearing of your legend all these years.”
I hate that. Every single word he just said. All the formality. The absence of everything familiar between us.
But really, we’ve been strangers my entire life.
“I have a question,” I say. My eyes drop to the chair beside me, but I don’t really see anything. “How long were you going to wait? Was there a certain point that you and Alivia agreed that I could finally be told the truth?”
Rath does
n’t immediately provide an answer. He hesitates just long enough that I look back up at him.
“Your twenty-fifth birthday,” he says. “We were going to wait until then. I was to introduce you to this world, gently. And then Alivia was going to leave it up to you if you wanted to meet her.”
Twenty-five. I just turned twenty last month.
I picture it. If it had all gone according to Rath and Alivia’s plan, I would have had five more years of normality. Five years of being under Shylock’s thumb, in debt. I’d be homeless by this point. I’d be miserable and stubborn, trying to provide for myself when everything was crumbling around me.
I’ve lost everyone I care about now. Yet I’ve also opened so many doors to others I had forgotten about.
Like Larkin.
I nod. “Thank you for telling me.” I step forward and sink down into the chair, crossing my legs and looking at the man who watched over me nearly my entire human life. “Are you okay?”
It takes him aback, me asking him that question. He blinks twice. “I could use a full two days sleep on a proper bed, but yes, physically I am alright.”
I bite my lower lip, considering. “Have you called Alivia Conrath already?”
Slowly, he sinks back into his chair, but never breaks his gaze. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Not that the House of Valdez was going to give me access. But you’re a grown woman, Logan. Your interaction with her, and the timing of it, is your decision.”
“From what Cyrus has said, you’re crazy loyal to her,” I say. “I would think you’d be very anxious to share the news.”
Rath shakes his head. “In some ways, my relationship with your mother is as complicated as Cyrus’. I have served the House of Conrath for a very long time, and while I will always love Alivia, always wish I had guided her better, I cannot condone so many things she did. I do not know if I will ever be able to forgive her for everything.”
Everything he just said startles me. My stomach knots.
“Then why would you spend sixteen years of your life keeping watch over me for her?” I ask, astounded.
