House of Pawns

by Keary Taylor

  I reach up and grab Raheem’s hand with both of mine. I pull it to my chest, resting it against my heartbeat as our faces come so close. So close together.

  “He cannot control everyone’s lives,” I say airily. “You are your own man, Raheem. I believe you can do anything you want.”

  His eyes rise up to mine and a small, sad smile pulls on his lips. “You are incredible, my nofret, but you do not understand.”

  And suddenly, he yanks his hand away and disappears across the room.

  Only one second before a loud knock sounds on the front door.

  I whip in the direction of it as every ounce of air leaves my body.

  The world grows very still and very quiet.

  The sound of one footstep. Two.

  Rath comes into view, exiting from the library. I’m terrified for him. So human—maybe. So fragile. So exposed to death.

  I should have had someone turn him.

  Should have protected him better.

  Should have sent him away with the staff.

  Yet there he is, his hand on the doorknob. There it turns. And there it opens.

  “Welcome to the House of Conrath,” Rath says in that calm and easy way of his.

  “The word House is yet to be determined.” It’s a woman’s voice, low and sultry. I can’t see her behind Rath.

  With one glance at Raheem over my shoulder, I see that he won’t meet my eyes and it cracks me just a little further. So, instead of falling apart all over the marble floor and my father’s crest, I walk toward the front door.

  Rath steps aside as I exit the ballroom to let our guests in. A woman in thick snow boots and a brilliantly white fur coat steps inside. Her face is what immediately draws my attention. Sharp cheekbones, perfectly shaped lips, seductive eyes. Platinum blonde hair. This woman looks like the most terrifyingly severe angel that never existed until this moment.

  “Welcome to my home,” I say, knowing I must speak first if I am to establish myself in this moment. “We are so happy to have you visit.”

  “Alivia Conrath,” she says, a coy smile forming on her face as she steps forward to shake my hand. She grasps it tightly and suddenly raises it up to her nose. Her eyes slide closed and she inhales deeply. When she opens her eyes once again, they glow red just slightly. “Oh, the King will be so happy to meet you.”

  It throws me off, the animalistic greeting of smelling me. But these are vampires and they are not actually human any longer.

  I see two escorts step inside behind her. One with a shaved head and full beard that reaches his chest. He’s large and terrifying looking with a cruel face. The other is a tiny Asian woman with short black hair and sharp eyes that seem like they can see through anything. I notice her fingernails, which have been filed down to deadly points.

  “My name is X and I am King Cyrus’ chancellor and right hand,” the blonde woman says, taking a step away from me. Her eyes turn to my home to observe and take in every detail. Just then my House members begin filing out of the library. They form a semi-circle behind me. “I observe and report, and if I approve of what I see, and smell,” she says as her eyes once again flash red for the briefest moment, “then the King will continue his journey. He will arrive by morning.”

  It’s seven-thirty. Morning is just eleven hours away.

  “You’re welcome to investigate anything you like,” I say, holding my hands open. “We’ve prepared rooms for you and hope your stay with us will be comfortable.”

  X smiles at me like I’m the most adorably ignorant thing there ever was. And I’m feeling that way. It’s one thing when it is my vampires whose existences haven’t extended beyond a century or two and this continent. It’s quite another when it’s a millennia old one with an entire monarchy and the world to run. “Aren’t you sweet. I’m sure our stay in your…House, will be adequate.”

  She makes my skin bristle, as if the Conrath Estate is some shack and not the most beautiful, elegant home in all of Mississippi.

  Footsteps over the marble draw all our attention to the ballroom as Raheem crosses it to join us.

  “X,” he greets her with his beautiful voice. “Good to see you again.”

  Her eyes run up and down him, her expression both approving and disdainful. I then wonder if she is one of the many women Raheem has apparently been with. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your time in this forsaken corner of the world.”

  “I do a job, I do not question the location,” he says coldly. And he doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t look at much of anyone.

  She studies him for a moment, and I see it: she wants Raheem. But the look on her face tells me he’s rejected her in the past. Finally, she looks away and takes in my House members.

  “I would have thought coming from such deep blood that you would have inherited a much larger household,” she says.

  I’m proud of my House members, that they don’t wither under her harsh looks. They stand tall and proud. They hold her gaze with a coldness of their own.

  “How familiar are you with the history of our region?” I ask. I seize the moment. I take a step forward, walking in a slow, wide circle around X.

  “Enlighten and remind me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the States.” And I realize then: her accent is un-placable. Not British, not French or German or anything I’ve ever heard.

  “Over a hundred and forty years ago, Elijah Conrath, my uncle, was killed,” I begin as I complete my first circle around X. She slowly turns her head to follow me, studying me. And the look in her eyes is slightly less sure, exactly what I wanted. “The town blamed him for a crime he did not commit. Leadership of the House should have passed to my father.”

  “Henry Conrath,” she fills in. The look on my face makes me think she met him at some point in the past.

  I nod. “But my father wanted nothing to do with the House and the monarchy. So for the past century and a half, it has had no proper leader. Two different Born have in some form kept a shadow of it running.”

  When I complete my second loop around X, I stop in front of her, holding her eyes surely. “I was born twenty-three years ago to a single mother who had a one night stand. Just seven months ago, I received a will and a phone call that I was the daughter of one Henry Conrath. I arrived in Silent Bend with no knowledge of vampires or royals or any King.”

  “When she arrived, we were all operating under the leadership of another.” It’s Markov who steps forward to stand at my left hand. “One who tried to manipulate Alivia into claiming the House simply for money and connections. But within weeks, she swayed each and every one of us to follow her. Because Alivia Ryan Conrath is the Born Royal meant to lead us.”

  X’s eyes switch from Markov, back to my other House members. I do not look back at them, but I know they will have conveyed the same message.

  “Impressive,” X says with a small smile when she looks back at me. “No upbringing. No training. No connections. Yet here you are and here they are.”

  I offer her a small smile. “So you see, you’ll have to excuse our small numbers. Rebuilding takes time.”

  “Of course.” X suddenly turns away from me toward the ballroom. “I would very much like to see more of your home. I trust your man will be happy to give me a tour.”

  Rath steps forward without prompt from me. His footsteps soundless, he crosses the space to her. He offers his arm, and she takes it with a charmed little smile. Together, they step into the ballroom and Rath begins giving her the history of the House.

  I cast a look over my shoulder at X’s escorts. They watch with dark expressions from either side of the door.

  I don’t know what to do. Impressing a helper of the King’s wasn’t what I expected. I figured he would just come. He would kill me. I’d get to sleep the sleep of death for four days, and then I’d rise to life as an immortal Born Royal. Cue the King’s games. See if I start remembering anything from a past life.

  I’ve got such a long life ahead of me. So much to come
and I know to anticipate so much of it.

  But what do I do ‘til morning?

  My phone dings from a side table in the foyer. Grateful for the distraction, I grab it.

  Status update? Luke.

  First batch has arrived, King will be here before sunrise. How many people left?

  It only takes him sixty seconds to respond.

  Thanks for the warning. Wards and about twenty people left in town. Do your best to keep us all safe.

  And another text follows it right after.

  Nice knowing you as a human. Good luck.

  I look up at those around me. My House. Raheem. X, who I can hear talking to Rath down the hall.

  Someone is going to kill me. Soon.

  Who is it going to be?

  Can I take my life into my own hands?

  Will Cyrus give me a chance?

  “Remember, the dying part is easy.” Samuel.

  I turn back to see him, staring at me with something like sympathy in his eyes.

  “It’s okay to be scared,” Lillian says. And I see how worried she is. She cares about me. She knows because she can hear my racing heart. “No one can judge you for being scared about death.”

  “It’s kind of nice knowing you’re a little worried about this,” Cameron jokes. “I was beginning to think you were some inhuman machine.”

  I crack a small smile, for his benefit.

  “Can you please give us a moment?” Markov asks of the guards.

  They look at each other, an unspoken conversation happening between them. After a short pause, they step outside the doors. They close in a flurry of snow.

  My House circles around me, and something bites at the back of my eyes.

  Nial steps in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders. “Deep breath in and out. Try closing your eyes.”

  So I do. My eyelids slide closed. I focus on my breathing. One deep breath in. One out. Repeat.

  “We will make sure it is quick and painless,” Anna says. I feel her take my right hand. Someone else takes my left.

  “No more anticipation,” Markov says. “And you will move onto the rest of your life.”

  “The next great adventure,” Lillian says.

  Slowly, very slowly, I feel my heartbeat slow. My anxiety ebbs. And that calm, unafraid demeanor I held such a good grasp on for so many weeks returns.

  My eyes slide open.

  “Thank you,” I breathe.

  X TAKES HER TIME TOURING the House. She instructs Rath who will be put where. The King will be traveling with eight others, in addition to the three that are here now. She deems the room we set up for Cyrus adequate. Though, she warns me he will likely wish to share my room soon after my resurrection.

  That makes my heart rate spike.

  She keeps herself busy with Rath for hours with plans for food and banquets and snow removal.

  I have to do nothing at all.

  But sit and wait.

  One o’clock.

  Three o’clock.

  Five o’clock.

  I sit very calmly in the library, facing the portrait of my father. My eyes study his face. Our same eyebrows. Our similar lips. The dark hair. His stern eyes.

  I wish he had some advice for me.

  Then again, I suppose I do have some. Given in the form of a letter when I very first arrived.

  Stay away from the Royals. Stay away from the King.

  But how did he ever think I could accomplish that? Knowing I was a daughter. A son would possibly have been a different story. But nothing will keep the King away from his Queen.

  I could never have run from this.

  The grandfather clock strikes six o’clock.

  And four seconds later, there is a heavy knock on the door.

  My pulse skyrockets. My hands sweat as I stand, my House members rising with me. My heels click across the marble floor in the entryway.

  I take one breath, calming myself with my hand rested on the doorknob. And then I open it.

  A dark, handsome face with dark eyes, dressed in leather and grandeur stands outside in the dark and snow.

  Our eyes meet.

  “Hello, Alivia,” King Cyrus says.

  I STAND THERE, ENCHANTED FOR a long moment.

  I did not expect Cyrus to look so young. Or so striking.

  He’s maybe twenty-six—seven in appearance. Nearly black hair that looks so thick my hands are dying to run through it. Styled so modern. A clean-shaven face reveals a sharp jawline. Proud nose and a slightly too full upper lip. And those eyes. Those eyes that have seen thousands of years.

  King Cyrus is beautiful. And it takes my breath away.

  My mind returning to myself, I take a small curtsey, my eyes falling away from his momentarily. “Your majesty.”

  It’s so foreign, so strange, your majesty, here in the Deep South, where there has never been a king, yet it’s the most natural thing in the world. The man before me is unquestionably a King.

  When my eyes meet his again, a small smile pulls on his lips. He studies me deeply, and my heart aches for him. I know he’s searching for his wife’s features, yet her face is different every time she is reborn.

  “Please, come in,” I say, held captive still. I can’t look away.

  He doesn’t say anything, but he does step over the threshold, never once losing my gaze. He crosses the space to me and taking my hand in his gloved one, he raises it to his lips. The skin of my hand goes electric. In fear and anticipation.

  “You are lovely, Alivia Conrath,” he says. His voice is low, but also very quiet, almost as if what he said was meant to be a secret between the two of us. It’s intimate.

  I feel myself blush. “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  He holds my eyes for another long moment, and I take the rest of him in. He wears black, knee high boots laced tightly. Leather pants hug his thighs. And a leather jacket set with fine red threads and embellishments hug what are obviously well defined arms. He wears no crown, but everything about him is regal.

  He stands straight, finally tearing his eyes away from me. And they go to meet my House members who have gathered in the entryway. It is only now that I realize many others have followed him inside.

  I study Cyrus’ face, watching for signs that my House members are in danger. I don’t know what to expect, how soon he will inflict his notorious games upon us. They could have already begun and I just don’t know it.

  There is a moment of disdain that settles into his eyes and lips. And I have to remember that five of his grandsons tried to rise against him. They would have killed him.

  So he disowned them. They could have been royals. They could have Houses of their own. But he cut them off. Killed their fathers and creators. I can only imagine the hatred and anger there must have once been. And from the look in his eyes, it hasn’t completely gone away.

  But the look only lingers for a moment before he puts on a slightly thin-lipped smile.

  Every one of my House members, to my relief, bows to Cyrus.

  “We’re very pleased to have you with us, your majesty,” Markov says. He stands regal, fit to the position I have given him. “If you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to let any of us know.”

  “Well, aren’t you lot so very accommodating,” he says, releasing some of the tension, looking back at me with a smile.

  “We do our best,” I say. I’m so out of my depth here. I don’t know how to act. Strong and in charge? Submissive to whom could be my long lost husband? I’m just playing it one second by second. “This is Markov, my advisor. And Anna, head of my security.”

  “We noted your lights around the property,” Cyrus says with amusement. “Similar to the setup we have in Roter Himmel. Well done.”

  Anna bows her head slightly in acceptance.

  “And Lillian. She helps me in many ways,” I continue introducing. “Dr. Nial Jarvis often takes care of me personally, as well as keeps us fed.”

  At this, the K
ing looks over at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. This statement tells him much. But he doesn’t question, like my thundering heart is afraid he will. He turns back to my subjects.

  “Samuel has been invaluable in assisting me in setting up my House,” I continue. I notice then the slight look of terror on his face.

  “You look familiar,” King Cyrus says as he takes three steps toward Samuel. “We’ve met before.”

  Samuel swallows quickly, though he tries very hard to keep a stern, composed expression. “Once, about sixteen years ago.”

  A smile cracks on Cyrus’ face. “Ah yes. You are that Kask fellow’s son. I remember you from the last time I visited this little town.” He chuckles, seeming to remember what he did to Samuel and Christian’s father. Put him up against two dozen armed humans and made them fight to the death. The Kasks’ father did not survive.

  “Yes,” Samuel responds, a hardness in his voice that sends my pulse skyrocketing.

  I realize then how very protective and fond I’ve become of my family. The same thoughts keep resounding in my head, over and over: please don’t hurt any of them.

  Over the past two months, I’ve grown to love each and every one of them in their own unique way.

  Cyrus doesn’t anger over Samuel’s obvious show of disgust. He simply smiles at him in humor. And I see my first glimpse of the darkness that resides inside of the King.

  “And this is Cameron,” I move on, hoping to relieve some of the tension that grows thick in the air and my blood. “He picks me up when I am feeling low.”

  Cyrus finally tears his eyes away from Samuel and they flick over to Cameron. “Now, that is an important job indeed. Every Royal needs their court jester.”

  “Cameron is not just a mockery and laughs to me,” I defend him in a surprising moment of boldness. “He is my friend.”

  Cyrus stops just before Cameron and puts his hands on his shoulders. The look on Cameron’s face is very wary, but not near as afraid as I think he should feel. “And that is an even more important job. A true friend is a rare thing indeed. Are you a true friend, my very young man?”