by Keary Taylor
She turns to the table next to us, says something in a language I do not understand to the people who sit there. An ancient man nods and hands her a stack of small pieces of paper.
She holds them out before her in her hand. I realize it’s a deck of cards, but unlike any I’ve seen before. The paper isn’t the thick, plastic-coated kind of playing cards I’m used to. It’s closer to rice paper, thin and brittle. And there are only dots on the surfaces. No numbers, no kings or queens as far as I see.
“The King is not the only Royal who enjoys playing games,” the woman says. She shuffles the cards, turning them and rotating as she does so. Her hands move so quickly they are only a blur. “While mine will not bring about bloodshed, perhaps it will stop some in the future.”
She restacks the cards and sets them on the table between us. “I am a part of the House in Southern Japan,” she says, looking up at me. “It is the third largest House in all the world. We have an army, one that I myself command.”
It explains the coldness in her eyes, the deadly way she has been evaluating me tonight. Or rather, this day.
“We will each draw a card,” she says, her eyes dropping to them. “Whoever draws the highest wins.”
“If you win?” I ask. Anticipation and adrenaline spike in my blood. I sit a little straighter. I notice the attention of others has shifted to us. Their eyes flicker over in our direction. The room grows a little quieter.
“If I win, you buy me this drink and life goes along its merry way,” she says with a little smile. “If you win, I swear to bring my army to your aid should this civil war come to fruition.”
At the words civil war, the room turns silent. Every head turns in our direction.
“And why would you offer such a weighty prize?” I ask. My voice carries throughout the entire room.
“Because I love life,” she says. Her eyes never once leave mine to search those that now openly watch us. She stays focused on me. “Because I am loyal above all to my kind. And I will not see either of those things threatened.”
The weight in the room deepens, settling on each shoulder here with the intensity of the moon.
“Deal,” I say, because I have nothing to lose.
The woman reaches out and takes the card from the top of the stack. She holds it up so only she can see. “A seven.”
I settle my fingers on the stack and take the top card. I pull it to me so no one can see the dots.
Three.
Three dots.
“A nine,” I lie.
The room is silent for exactly one second. And then, those around us erupt.
“She’s lying!” some yells, though it’s unclear if they mean me or the woman across from me.
“Look at her face!” another says. “It’s a bluff.”
“Show us the cards!”
If I lose, all I have to do is buy this woman’s drink. I don’t even have any money here. I’m sure the debt will be forgiven.
But if I win, it’s a huge gain.
I put the thin paper card on my tongue, wad it up in my mouth, and swallow it.
“A nine,” I say again, never looking away from the woman.
A thin smile curls on the woman’s lips, and it gradually grows and grows. The look in her eyes is full of pure delight.
She lays her card on the table, face up.
Three dots.
Our onlookers go wild. Some in anger, some in delight. Some in disbelief.
A satisfied smile comes to my lips. I’m not the only liar and manipulator at this table.
“A nine,” the woman says. “What a lucky draw.”
“You shuffled the cards well,” I say, lacing my fingers together and resting them on the table.
The woman nods once, bowing her head to me. “You are a most skilled player in this Royal game, Lady Conrath. I swear my armies aid to you, should this civil war arise. My name is Noriko.”
“Thank you, Noriko,” I say, bowing my head to her in return. “Your willingness to give aid will never be forgotten.”
She stands, giving me one last, studious look, and heads down the hallway.
“Well played,” Dorian says as he moves from his table to mine. “That was quite the move, eating the card so no one could confirm or disprove if you truly had a nine.”
“It was a nine,” I confirm once more, offering him a smirk.
“Of course it was,” Dorian laughs with a smile. “That was quite an alliance you just won. The House of Himura is a powerful one. Noriko’s father is only two generations from Malachi. He has led his House for over twelve hundred years. Their army is vast.”
“She was right though, Dorian,” I say. “If a civil war is coming, the Royals need to be more concerned about it.”
“My dear,” Dorian says, laying his hand over mine. “Our history is a long one. This is not the only act of war the Bitten have waged against us. This unrest in your region will not be the last we encounter.”
“So, you are not worried?” I ask as my brows furrow.
“I’ve lived so long, my child, that I do not worry over much of anything. Time will soldier forward, our kind will continue on, no matter the small worries that arise.”
I study him for a moment. It’s impossible to grasp the ages he’s experienced from the lack of worry lines on his face. On the outside, he appears as any other thirty-year-old man. All his centuries of life lie locked up in his mind.
“I can’t think that way,” I say, shaking my head and pulling my hands away from him. “Not yet, anyway. There’s a problem in my region. And all I can do is plan for how to defend against it. I have to take care of it.”
“As is your responsibility.” He nods his head, his eyes sliding closed.
A yawn suddenly erupts from my chest, and I drag a hand over my eyes, rubbing them. I slept only a day ago, but suddenly, I am exhausted.
“Come, my dear,” Dorian says as he stands. He holds a hand out for mine, which I take. “You deserve a night of rest after the time you have had here at Court. Let us get you a bed to rest in.”
Dorian talks to the bartender in German and a moment later is given a set of keys. He leads me down a hall, where a few doors split off and then lead to a staircase. We climb them, up three flights, before coming out onto a landing. Down to the very end of the hall, where he opens a door.
It reveals a simple bedroom with a queen-sized bed in the center. There isn’t much to it, but it’s clean—and free of anyone else.
“You can rest here tonight,” Dorian says. “I’m staying in the next room over. I trust you won’t run, as you’ll never be able to stop doing so for the rest of your days if you do. You’re this close to freedom. Don’t mess it up now.”
“I won’t,” I say, shaking my head. Running sounds exhausting. I can wait this out just a few more days.
“Goodnight then, Lady Conrath,” Dorian says with a nod as he lets himself into the bedroom next to mine.
WHEN I WAKE, IT’S TWILIGHT. Dorian takes me around the rest of town. I talk with more people. Feel all the more judged. Make a few new possible allies. And once again, I am exhausted when we return to the hotel the next morning.
Once again, I sleep.
I dream.
Of schemes.
Of war.
Of blood.
Of love.
Of repentance.
Forgiveness.
Tears run down my face as I sleep. Even in sleep, I am exhausted.
I toss restlessly in the bed. In my dreams, I hear feet shuffling over the floor. Hear demanding questions about my location. Hear a door break.
Only it’s not in my dream at all.
My eyes fly open as rough hands grab me and a gag is shoved into my mouth so I cannot cry out. Wildly, I search for the faces of my captors. And find familiar guards. The same ones who dragged me down to the strip club.
I throw my legs out as they drag me out of the room, trying to hook my feet in the doorframe and stop them from hauling me aw
ay. It manages to halt us for about two seconds before one of the guards turns.
A huge, meaty fist is the last thing I see.
THE FAMILIAR SMELL IS WHAT first drags my consciousness back to me. Of forest and rain. Of time and thunderstorms.
And the smell brings a wave of fear crashing over me.
My eyes fly open, only to immediately be met by a set of red ones, just inches from my face.
“About time.”
King Cyrus backs away from me, a cold and callus stare in his eyes as he folds his hands behind his back. He begins pacing before me. “I thought we were going to run out of daylight before we could begin the festivities.”
There’s a sudden rush of sound, a great clack. Instantly, beams of light pelt into the room, sending searing pains shooting into my brain. I hiss and turn away from the light.
But the screams that rip through the air around me instantly drag my eyes back.
Standing behind Cyrus, back across the room, are so many familiar faces.
My eyes burn and water as I take them all in, but I cannot look away.
Against a wall, their hands shackled above their heads, their ankles grounded to the stone floor, is every one of my allies.
In the center are Ian and Raheem. Beside them are Christian, Markov, Trinity, Samuel, Cameron. Even Lillian.
The noise I heard earlier was from doors in the ceiling, covers that blocked out the light, but now every one of my friends is bathed in intense sunlight. They each howl in pain.
“Stop!” I scream. I jump toward them, only to find I’m chained to a chair. I test my strength, only every time I press too hard against my restraints, my skin burns. “Please,” I beg. “Don’t hurt them! Do whatever you want to me, but don’t-”
“Don’t what, Alivia?” Cyrus says as he crouches down, his face only inches from mine. “Don’t mess with their poor little heads? Don’t toy with them?”
The room is plunged into darkness once more, the sunlight blocked out.
I almost hope I am her. Suddenly, my own voice echoes through the dark, reverberating against the stone walls. The Queen. Because if I start remembering, if I can recall all these past lives Sevan and Cyrus had together, maybe it will make me forget the past few months.
They are my own words, spoken a few months ago, just hours after Resurrecting.
“You hoped, Alivia,” Cyrus says. Suddenly, light floods the room again, a single beam of it. It engulfs Ian, and he roars in pain.
“Stop!” I scream. Once again, I jerk against my bonds, but my skin sears in pain.
“You hoped, Alivia!” Cyrus yells. “I saw it in your eyes. More than once. You wanted to be her. You felt what began to build between the two of us.”
Once again, the light is cut off and Ian falls silent. I wonder why none of them are saying anything. Why are they not responding to my calls? Why are they not begging Cyrus to end this?
Do you still wish things could be different? My voice echoes throughout the room once more. Now that I have become what I was born to be?
I squeeze my eyes closed.
How does Cyrus have all these things I’ve said? Did he bug my entire house? Recording every single thing I’ve said?
Of course, he did.
He’s the demented King who’s stayed in power his entire, long life. He knows how to hang dread over people’s heads, to manipulate them into doing whatever he wants.
“But even though I saw it in your eyes,” Cyrus says as he resumes pacing back and forth, his eyes coldly staring on me. “You said this. Behind your King’s back. Behind the back of someone you said you hoped was your husband!”
Light once more floods the room, and now it is Raheem who hisses in pain. His blood red eyes stare at the King with hatred threatening to melt us all.
We all have our roles to play in this game. But it’s just a role. Not the truth.
I squeeze my eyes closed as something breaks in my chest.
My words are so damning.
Cyrus turns and stalks toward Raheem. Suddenly, he balls a fist and swings. Raheem’s head goes flying to the side, blood spraying through the air.
“You were my most trusted spy!” Cyrus bellows as he keeps walking. “Centuries of secrets. And then this!”
My eyes, wide and terrified, go back to Raheem. I want him to defend himself. To say it wasn’t his fault, that I led him on.
But he only silently stares back at me. Through the blinding sunlight he’s bathed in.
Kiss me, my voice begs over the speaker system.
A sob bubbles up from my chest. A ragged and powerful thing. Tears suddenly spring to my eyes and my shoulders shudder with the intensity of everything coursing through me.
My eyes slide from Raheem’s to Ian’s.
So much pain.
I wanted you to do it. I wanted you to be able to accept me. As I am. As I was born. Please.
Even now, all these months later, the desperation in my voice is remarkable. I was about to die a terrifying death, after all.
Ian is once again showered in sunlight. One single cry and hiss of pain escape his throat.
Give me some time. My words whisper out into the great room.
Suddenly, all the lights fly open and everyone is engulfed in sun.
The screams of pain are horrifying.
Lillian tries to wriggle out of her bonds, to back away out of the sun. To no avail. Cameron thrashes himself back, tucking his head into his arm in an attempt to block out the light. Markov bellows a hissing growl, deep and feral.
Christian glowers at Cyrus, silent and immovable.
He’s torturing them. Because of me.
Darkness once more. All the coverings close up once again.
“Do you have any idea what you want, Alivia?” Cyrus’ voice cuts through the dark as my eyes adjust to the darkness. “You wanted Ian. You tried to die for him. And then, you wanted to be Sevan. You wanted me to make you forget. And then you wanted Raheem. You let him risk his life.”
My eyes adjust, and I see Cyrus walking through the dark toward me. Like a black panther, about to spring on his prey and rip my heart out.
“You lied to me,” I breathe. And the words cause physical pain in my throat.
All the hard lines on Cyrus’ face fall and something flickers in his eyes.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t lied to me.” My words are quiet. Tormented.
“About what?” Cyrus asks. He stops a few feet away, his hands folded behind his back.
Once more, my eyes turn to Ian, but I still address the King. “I asked you who did it. Who ended my life that night. You said it was you. And you told me he left.”
The pain that pours out of me as I stare at Ian could fill oceans. It’s there in his eyes, too. Every emotion we’ve ever evoked within one another. All the hurt and anger, but all the sacrifice and the beauty.
“Everything would have been different if you hadn’t lied to me.” I tear my eyes away from Ian to look at Cyrus once again.
“If you truly love him, would you have so easily walked into my arms?” Cyrus asks with a calculating look. “Would your lips so easily have found Raheem’s? You claim love, but, darling, I’ve loved Sevan for thousands of years. You have no idea what it looks like.”
“Yet you are the one who forced this immortal life upon your pregnant wife!” The scream rips from my lips, fight suddenly burning in my veins. “Was it love that brought about a curse that made you crave the blood of your former kind? Was it love that has brought her death, over and over?”
Cyrus disappears in a blur and a fist connects with my face, sending me flying backwards, tipping the chair and sending me skidding across the floor to crash into the wall behind me.
“How dare…” Cyrus pants in shaking hisses as he hovers over me, “you question my love for Sevan.”
I lie on my back, bound to this chair, staring up at him. My body quakes in fear. His eyes glow, his entire body trembling in rage. I can fe
el the blood gushing down my face, flowing from my nose. I can feel the broken bones floating around in my cheek.
I never remember my boundaries when it comes to pushing King Cyrus.
“Do not test me,” he whispers. “Do not mention my wife again or I will kill you.”
The look in his eyes... Nothing in me doubts the promise he’s just made me. I give a quick little shake of my head.
Cyrus grabs hold of the front of my shirt and hauls me and the chair back upright, setting me in my original position.
Every one of my allies thrashes, their eyes wild, struggling to come to my aid.
“They’re quite the loyal lot, aren’t they?” Cyrus walks toward them, looking at each of them as he walks down the line. “I imagine if I hadn’t drugged them, they’d all be trying to tear me to pieces. This really is impressive.”
He turns back toward me and this time, it’s Christian’s voice that cuts through the room. I was wrong, Alivia. You were indeed born to lead this House. You’re a ruler, a true Royal. And if you will have me, I will follow you.
Next, it is Lillian. You look around you. You see those around you who love you. And that word, it’s a monumental achievement. No one but Micah loved Jasmine. But what we do for you, us being here, even though he is here, that is love. That is loyalty and devotion. You trust in it. Because it’s here, and it’s real.
Such a fitting quote Cyrus has chosen. Considering the circumstances.
“My House is my family,” I say as tears roll down my face. “I know some of them think I betrayed or fooled them, but I love them. Each of them. I had…have nothing, except them. The money and the connections of being a Royal mean nothing to me. But having them, my family…” My voice trails off as tears consume me and I let my head fall forward.
“Then you should have protected them better,” Cyrus says. “You should have seen the problem lurking in your backyard, and you should have ended it. We protect the ones we love, Alivia.”
Tears stream down my face. I take a sobbing breath and nod. “I’m so sorry. To all of you. I was protecting myself, when I should have been protecting all of you. I’m so sorry.”
