by Keary Taylor
He walks across the room, crossing to Eshan’s side. I see then that he was holding a syringe. Like he’s done this before, he uncaps it, pushing out the air bubble. And without one glance in my direction to confirm that this is what I still want to do, he sinks the needle into his arm.
Where once Eshan looked as good as dead, his face winces, just a little. The pain shows in his eyes and in the corners of his mouth.
But just a few seconds later, his expression relaxes again, and once more, he sleeps like the dead.
“How long does it take?” I ask, staring at him.
“Roughly twenty-four hours,” Rath says as he recaps the needle and slips the syringe into his pocket.
“And you’re sure he’ll be human when he wakes up?”
I marvel as I stare at Eshan. I’ve met and dealt with thousands of Bitten over the years.
But a cure?
“Yes, I’m sure,” Rath says.
I look up at him. I study his eyes. I think of his bravery. I think of how much he knows, about everything.
I have to wonder.
But I understand that it’s safer, for everyone, that I don’t know.
“I know you’re mad at me for how things went in there,” I say. “I…I honestly didn’t know that was going to come out. It just did.”
I’m not a person who’s very good at being sorry, and honestly, I’m not really sorry now. So I don’t say it.
Rath takes one deep breath in and slowly lets it out. He crosses to the chair in the corner of the room, the one that looks like it’s at least a hundred years old. He sinks into it, sitting straight. He laces his fingers in his lap.
His eyes are distant, contemplative. He always has words of wisdom, so I allow him a few moments to find them.
“I left Alivia and my service to the House of Conrath just a month after she Resurrected,” he begins. “I could not stand by the person she was becoming. I could not support so many of the decisions she was making. Her father asked me to guide her, before he died, and I failed him. Outside circumstances forced her down dark paths and no matter how hard I tried, I could not seem to pull her back onto the straight and narrow.”
He crosses one ankle over the opposite knee. “I attended Alivia’s wedding, but I cannot say that I ever supported her and Ian’s relationship. They are toxic when around one another. The two of them can fight like cats and dogs, fling words that could pierce the thickest armor. Ian told her up front that he would never accept Alivia as a vampire. He used to hunt them. Despite that, she still fell in love with him. Which drove her to do some very dark things when he broke her heart and walked away from her, even though he became what he hated.”
Here. Finally. I feel like I’m learning the truth about Alivia. About her husband. Because even though Rath did walk away from her, couldn’t support what she was doing, I can still tell. He loves her. Loves her like a daughter, in a small measure.
“Cyrus took Alivia to Roter Himmel for a trial,” Rath continues. His eyes flick up to mine. “Did you know that?”
My eyes widen. I shake my head.
Rath nods. “There was an attempt on Cyrus’ life, and they staged it to make it look like it was Alivia. Cyrus took her to Roter Himmel and held her prisoner there for over a month. Starved her. Tortured her. He wanted to punish her for how reckless she had been with his heart. He humiliated her. In front of Ian. In front of Raheem.”
A small gasp escapes my lips. The spy Cyrus had alluded to that Alivia had gotten involved with. I never… I shake my head. No wonder Cyrus had been so bitter. Raheem had been one of Cyrus’ elite, one of his most trusted in thousands of years.
“In the end, their time in Roter Himmel brought Ian and Alivia back together,” Rath continues. “Alivia was found not guilty. But she returned to Silent Bend a different person.”
I clench my jaw. I’m not ready yet. Not ready to have to accept that that woman, even though she is an immortal, is only human.
“But even though she was changed, I still could not return to her,” he says instead.
My eyes narrow at Rath in surprise.
“I couldn’t quite forgive Alivia then, and I still don’t know that I have yet,” he says. “The things she did, the innocent lives she ruined, they’re still there. But,” he stands, rising to his full height. Rath is a man of power, even though he has lived a life of service. “I do know that time changes people.”
He steps forward, toward me. His eyes lock on mine, and I read the sincerity in them. “It has been sixteen years since I spent time with Alivia. In the immortal perspective of this world, it is not much time, but in reality, it is quite a lot.” He reaches forward and takes my hands in his. “I am not asking you to do the same. But I want you to know, that after sixteen years, I am willing to take the time to see if Alivia has evolved into something better than she once was.”
He brings my hands up and presses one kiss to my knuckles.
I hold his eyes the entire time, trying to figure out how the hell he’s so wise.
I watch as he turns, and walks out the door.
Somewhere in the house, I hear voices. Alivia’s. Rath’s. Others I certainly don’t recognize.
I look over at my phone. Slowly, my fingers crawl over to it, pulling it into my lap.
Words. Cyrus was always very good with words.
He uses them on others. He’s used them on me countless times over the years.
He wraps me up. Draws me in. Makes me forget.
Rath’s revelation about what Cyrus did to Alivia opens my eyes once more. It reminds me that there is a reason that I am here and not in Roter Himmel with him.
My jaw clenches. My fingers roll into fists.
My blood surges hot.
My fingers wrap around a pillow on the bed, and with every ounce of strength I posses, I fling it across the room with a scream.
It hits the wall and explodes, the cotton flying everywhere.
My fingers slide into my hair, fisting. My breathing comes in and out hard, between my teeth.
I don’t know who to trust. No one tells the truth about each other. No one can paint an unbiased picture.
Alone.
Alone, alone, alone.
I feel so damn alone.
And blind.
And insecure.
And unstable.
And in a perpetual state of self-doubt.
Tears prick my eyes, but the anger makes them hot.
I breathe hard, my nostrils flaring.
I turn, feeling lost. Searching for…anything to keep me grounded.
My eyes fall on Eshan. Still in a new state of transformation.
Maybe there is one person in this world I can trust. One who unconditionally has my back and doesn’t hesitate to give it to me straight. One person who doesn’t care about my status as a Queen or eight other people.
But in a few hours he’s going to wake up as human again.
And soon I’m going to take him home, and who knows how long it will be until I see him again.
I feel my heart being shredded.
Alone.
I’m going to be alone unless I can turn a blind eye to all the wrongs that are keeping me away from…everyone.
Turning to the back of the room, I cross it. I can feel it outside, the receding of the sun. I feel that utter sense of relief, like lying down after a day of running a marathon. My senses relax. The breath comes to my lungs just a little easier.
I pull the heavy drapes away from the door.
The top half of it is glass, looking out on the darkening world.
I pull it open and step out onto a big, long veranda.
For just a moment, my breath is taken away. Beyond the veranda is a beautiful swimming pool. On the south end of the property, I see a hedge maze, meticulously manicured. Straight out, there is what I think are tombs, a short fence wrapping around them. And beyond the expanse of perfect grass, is the Mississippi River.
Lights flicker on across the wa
ter. It’s a strange feeling, being this close to a state border, with me standing in Mississippi, and just there where I can see, a whole different life in Louisiana.
I take a deep breath, practically drinking in the humidity. It’s hot. Everything about the air feels strange here. So foreign, so different.
I take a step forward, down onto the grass. Through the quiet, I wander around the pool. I stroll toward the river. But right in my way, is that little graveyard.
I read the names as I approach.
Elijah Conrath.
I do remember this name. The heir and ruler of the Conrath family. Faintly, in the back of my memory, I do remember him leaving to sail to the States, with his brother in tow.
Henry Conrath. This tomb is large. Simple but regal. There is no date of his birth or death, only his name. From everything I’ve learned, he died not long before Alivia came to claim this House.
And then there is Marlane Ryan. She was too young when she died. Only forty-one years old. I note that she died the same year I was born.
Something cracks a little in my chest.
Because I have to tie it all together.
Alivia may be an absolute stranger to me, may feel as familiar as an alien from Venus. But the reality is that she carried me inside of her for nine months. She went through an entire pregnancy and dealt with everything that came with it.
And then her mother died just months before I was born.
I have to think they were close. Alivia was living in Colorado at the time I was born, and before. Her mother would have died in Colorado, I assume. But here she is, at Alivia’s House here in Mississippi.
I don’t think she would have moved her body all this way unless they were close.
I place a hand on her tomb.
My maternal grandmother.
I look over at Henry’s as well, reaching out to touch the warm stone.
My grandfather.
And his brother, my uncle.
“If you want to keep your sanity while trying to puzzle together your family, don’t go trying to figure out anything about Henry.”
I whip around, all of my senses suddenly coming back as I pull out of my own head.
A woman walks toward me, calm, collected. She doesn’t seem scared that I’ve lowered slightly into a crouch, or that my eyes have ignited brilliant red.
Despite the fact that she is so, so human.
She’s medium height, her figure slight. Her hair is blonde. Her features are soft, open. Kind.
I’d describe her as delicate, like a flower.
But there’s a certain confidence to her walk. Like she belongs in this world, and knows how to handle herself.
She walks up, and I search her face for familiarities, for clues as to who she is.
She looks to be in her mid-thirties I’d guess.
She’s beautiful, but unassuming.
“I didn’t know him well, but sometimes reputations and legends are pretty accurate.”
“What?” I ask, startling as she speaks again.
She bears a Southern accent. And it’s kind of adorable on her.
“Henry,” she says with a little smiling, nodding her chin toward his tomb.
“Oh,” I try to recover, looking back at it awkwardly. “Surprisingly, I haven’t heard that much about him. Other than I think I heard Cyrus call him an enemy once.”
“Most people only ever see one side of Cyrus,” she says calmly. “He’s not nearly as unreasonable as some people see him as.”
My eyes narrow at this woman and her words, and words spoken over a month ago start rolling through my brain. I try to reclaim them, and the exactness they were spoken in.
“You’re Elle Ward, aren’t you?” I finally find them.
She offers another small, controlled smile. “Dawes, actually. Have been for the last ten years now.”
I nod as the conversation comes back to me. Something about a husband, and…children.
“Aster Dawes,” I say, piecing it all together. “Cyrus mentioned a ten-year-old who would be a House leader when she is old enough. And she has a younger brother.”
Elle smiles, and I see the pride of a mother in her eyes. She nods. “George. And they have a little sister too, Penny. Aster is here, but the younger two are back home in Boston with their dad.”
I didn’t realize it was happening. But as she speaks, about something sort of normal—family, I begin to relax just a bit. The tightness in my shoulders calms just a little.
“What’s your husband’s name?” I ask. “Cyrus couldn’t remember.”
She smiles, and I swear there’s a faint blush that creeps into her cheeks. “Lexington.”
I smile, holding in a small, entertained huff at such a strange name.
“So, I guess you’re my aunt?” I say, my throat tightening slightly at the word.
Elle shrugs a little shrug. “You can call me whatever you like. I just recognize loneliness when I see it. I thought maybe you could just use a friend?”
I smile hesitantly, but my chest swells with gratitude. Emotion wants to bite the back of my eyes, but I push it back, determined not to cry. “I think I could use one of those right now.”
She smiles again. And I think I love her smile. It’s always so small. So unassuming. A hint of uncertainty in it. But it’s real. It’s supportive and genuine.
“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now,” she says, watching my face. “I know the pressure that’s on my daughter. But it’s nothing compared to what you have. And add all this to the mix?”
She waves a hand toward the House. Through the gigantic windows that lead into the ballroom, I can see people walking around. Other figures move in the bedrooms. Everyone has apparently returned.
“It would be a lot for anyone to deal with.”
I nod, continuing to watch the house. “I just…” I shake my head, trying to figure out how to word what I’m feeling. “I don’t really know how to trust anyone. There’s so much history that I’ve seen, but the past…hundred years or so seem to have brought around a lot of changes. They seem really important, and I missed a lot. Everyone is trying to fill me in, but I feel like I’m only getting one-sided versions. There’s all these new players I have to figure out.”
Elle lets out a little sigh. She nods. “I kind of ran away from it all at one point. I needed a break.”
“Really?” I say, looking over at her.
She nods. “My grandmother was my guardian for most of my life, and she died when I was sixteen. It was after Alivia and my brother got married, so they took custody of me. I lived here until I graduated high school.”
She looks around, and I can only imagine what her life must have been like.
A human girl, living in a House full of beings who would love nothing more than to drain her dry.
“My family has a reputation, too. A really dark one,” she says. “After all the drama, after everything everyone knew about me and my family, I left. Went to university. Moved to Boston on my own.”
I feel for her. Because after all that effort, here she is again. Mother to an upcoming Royal.
“It’s dramatic sometimes,” she says, looking over at me. “And beyond stressful from time to time. But it isn’t all bad. It brought me my family. My husband was actually a member of Alivia’s House for a few years.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise, but it does make me smile.
She smiles back. She steps forward and places a hand on my arm. The movement is comforting. “Logan,” she says. Her words are soft. “It’s okay to not be okay. And anyone who doesn’t get that right now just doesn’t matter.”
A flood of relief washes through me.
It’s okay to not be okay.
Emotion does push its way to the surface now. Tears pool in my eyes, but don’t quite break free. I bite my lower lip as I take a step forward. I wrap my arms around this precious woman, and for the first time, I feel it.
A connection.
To my family.
“Thank you,” I breathe. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” she says. She actually runs a hand down the back of my head, smoothing it over my hair.
I release her, taking a deep breath as I wipe the tears from my eyes. I smile when Elle looks at me.
“I have to admit, I’m a little embarrassed to go back in there and face Alivia again,” I say with a little laugh. “I threw a bit of a tantrum earlier.”
She laughs, too. “I think she’ll get over it. If one is all she ever has to deal with, I think she’ll survive.”
The look in her eyes tells me the story of the past ten years of being a mother to three.
I laugh again, grateful for this woman’s insight and finesse. With a sigh, I look back toward the house.
“Stay with me?” I ask. Because I really am scared.
“Of course,” she says. And she slides her hand into mine.
Chapter 13
Together, we walk back across the grounds, and through the doors into the ballroom.
Inside, I see a man, a look of focus on his face as he heads from the kitchen toward the bedrooms. But when he sees us, he does a double take, instantly stopping in his tracks.
“Well, hello, Logan,” he says dramatically. He saunters over, his eyes stripping me down.
“I’m a little taken,” I say with snark. “I’d be careful if you know what’s good for you.”
He smiles, as if undeterred. Elle laughs.
“Logan, this is Christian Kask,” she introduces the man. “And this isn’t really flirting. It’s just the Kask way.”
His smile grows even more flirtatious as he extends a hand for me to shake. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
I smirk at him, shaking my head, but take his hand.
He’s good looking. That’s for certain. But he’s a player, through and through.
“Trust me, there are too many reasons for me to not lay the real charm on,” he says with a smile.
“Oh?” I question, raising an eyebrow. “And what are those?”
He smirks, and I can totally see how he operates. That charming smile, those bedroom eyes…
