Crown of Bones: Book Four - Crown of Death Saga

by Keary Taylor

  His kisses slip, beginning to trail down my neck. “I have thought about the night alone that will follow,” he purrs as he kisses his way down my neck. My back arches and I roll as he shifts on top of me. My right knee falls to the side, inviting him between my legs. “I have thought about this skin.” He nips my neck just a little with his teeth. “I have thought about every inch of it.”

  My hands rise up, finding the hem of his shirt. My hands slip underneath. His skin is warm, covered in goosebumps.

  It’s agony. I’m touching him. I’m here in this bed with him, breathing the same air, hearing the words I crave. But it’s not enough.

  It’s not enough.

  Cyrus’ hand goes to my thigh, sliding up until he slips over my hip, and then to the hem of my own shirt. His rough hand caresses my stomach. And finally his fingers hook on the edge of my bra, lingering.

  “I have fantasized about every inch of your skin, Logan,” Cyrus whispers into my ear, his lips teasing the skin there.

  I wrap my legs around his waist, and I feel like I’m in pain, I want every part of him so bad. That little decision that I never gave clear acknowledgement to in the back of my brain, the one to wait until after the wedding, shatters to pieces, evaporating into the air.

  But through the night, a shout cuts through the dark. Followed by another.

  We’re both on our feet in a fraction of a second, looking out the window.

  There’s fighting down in the streets. The people yell, no, scream, at one another. I see one man swing at another. I see fangs bared. I see brilliant red eyes.

  There’s a group of ten surrounded by a crowd of nearly a hundred. They back down the road, toward the lake.

  There are others that look cornered.

  There’s so much screaming.

  So much fighting.

  Through the stairways and halls Cyrus and I bolt and not a minute later, we plow through the front gates.

  The shouting and sounds of fighting intensify.

  Cyrus grabs a woman as she runs by, nearly knocking her off her feet. “What is going on?”

  Her expression is livid and she doesn’t even look at Cyrus, she’s in such a rush to get back into the thick of things. “More than thirty of us have decided they want to side with Lorenzo,” she says. “They’re trying to leave the city.”

  More than thirty.

  I see Cyrus’ expression slacken and he loosens his grip on the woman, who instantly darts back to the fight.

  That’s…that’s nearly ten percent of the residents of Roter Himmel.

  After everything, after this entire interrogation with the army, there are still so many who have decided to turn away from us.

  As I turn to the fight once more, I realize it isn’t just a fight.

  It’s a painful betrayal. A turning of backs.

  It’s pleading and begging.

  These are their family members. Their friends.

  This is Roter Himmel being torn apart after centuries of bonds and relationships.

  The loyalists will fight.

  But can they kill?

  Do I want them to?

  I clutch my hands to my chest, feeling my heart being shredded.

  How can we ever survive this? How will our world ever, ever look the same after all of this conflict? After all this splitting?

  Your world will never look the same.

  The man who beheaded Cyrus had said those words. And he was absolutely right.

  My world has come to an end as I knew it.

  Two individuals break free from the crowd, and with a speed that is nearly invisible to the eye, they dart out across the valley.

  Another five follow suit.

  I realize that they didn’t just escape.

  My people let them go.

  The group of ten makes a break for it, and they’re chased, but only for so long.

  Neither Cyrus nor I do anything about it, as over the next ten minutes, we watch the loyalists drive the deserters out of Roter Himmel.

  I count every one of them as they leave us.

  Fifteen.

  Twenty-four.

  Thirty-two.

  And then the town turns quiet. Faces grow solemn.

  They all turn toward the castle instinctually, and every one of their eyes falls to us, none of them knowing what to do now that thirty-two of us have turned their backs.

  “Everyone inside the castle,” Cyrus says.

  Chapter 4

  It’s kind of beautiful, really. In all my lives here at the castle, we have never, ever done something like this, been this united, relied on one another so much.

  Every resident of Roter Himmel is gathered in the Great Hall. We take a quick head count and I could tell even before it was concluded that we were much smaller. The room does not fill the way it should.

  There are still 384 Royals here in Roter Himmel. That includes Malachi and Dorian. That includes Mina, Fredrick, Horatio. It includes me and Cyrus.

  Outside our borders, the army, who number six thousand, keep Lorenzo and the betrayers out of the city.

  There are 308 of Lorenzo’s children either here, or soon to arrive. Thirty-two Royals walked away from us. Others could rally and join them.

  352 vampires on the side of the Crown.

  340 vampires on Lorenzo’s side.

  Shit.

  I really, really don’t like those numbers.

  Everyone sits or stands, gathered around Cyrus and I in the center of the room. Ideas and problems are shouted out, both by the crowd and by Cyrus and myself. Anyone who has anything to say is free to speak.

  First and most important: has anyone seen Lorenzo since his escape a few hours ago?

  No.

  Has anyone seen signs of his four children that were here in Court?

  No.

  “We must rally the Houses,” Mina says loudly. “The numbers will skew in our favor with all of them at our side.”

  “And just leave the rest of the world to go mad?” Dorian counters her. “If you pull every one of the Royals to Roter Himmel, it won’t take more than a few days for the rest of the Born in the world to realize they’re unchecked.”

  “Is this not why the Crown takes such good care of the Houses?” Mina says loudly. “The Houses were handed to them, maintained financially, backed, so that when the time came, when the Crown needs them, they will stand at our side.”

  “Who is to say that every House will side with Cyrus and Sevan?” a man I do not know speaks up. “Who is to say that some of them won’t side with Lorenzo?”

  “Because of the exact reasons I just stated,” Mina says, frustration rising in her voice. “No, not everyone may be enamored with the King, but he has taken care of them in every way for centuries or millennia. They would be ungrateful fools to turn against him in this hour of need.”

  The crowd falls silent for a moment, considering that.

  I really don’t know what to expect in that regard. Yes, it’s true that Cyrus has taken care of the Houses all this time. But how many of them would truly be loyal to him in a war? How many would come to Cyrus’ aid?

  If they turn against us and Lorenzo wins, the system of the Houses will most likely crumble and they will lose everything.

  But how many around the world are truly happy living in secret?

  “The issue of the Houses is a matter for Sevan and I to decide upon,” Cyrus says loudly, his voice carrying through the large space without effort. “For now, we need to arm ourselves. We need to prepare for the kind of war we have not fought in a millennia and a half.”

  I look around and I wonder: how many of them were there when we fought the war against my son? There was Dorian and Malachi, fighting by my side. But is there anyone else left? Have any of the others survived all these years?

  It seems impossible.

  I wonder now how my grandsons have survived this long.

  “We need spies,” Cyrus says. “This may be a lack of foresight on my part, that
I have not replaced my head spy since the dismissal of Raheem.” There’s thickness in his voice at the mention of his name. And I can tell, it is difficult for him still, to be betrayed like he was by his most trusted spy in all of his history. “But I know there are others here who are incredibly capable. Gunter, Resseme, and Brynn.”

  Each of the three steps forward, standing in a line before us. “The safety of Roter Himmel depends on you in these next critical days. I need you and others you deem capable to keep an eye on the happenings in the mountains.”

  Every one of them nods and without a word, heads toward the doors. They tap others on the shoulder as they walk by, and in all, nine individuals walk out the doors to go spy on Lorenzo.

  “If all of Lorenzo’s children haven’t yet arrived,” Malachi speaks up, “our best chance is to attack now. We may still outnumber them. Better we attack before they rally, slaughter them with the numbers fewer.”

  “And then take care of the rest as they arrive,” Cyrus concludes. I see his eyes alight brilliant red. A spark of excitement makes them brilliant. “We will wait two hours for a full report from our spies. But be prepared.” He lifts his chin, and I remember that look in his eyes from before. I remember the danger there. When we went into a war that lasted seven years. “Arm yourselves for battle.”

  A great cry echoes through the Great Hall and the entire population springs to action.

  They know where the armories within the castle are. Most of them, anyway. They flood out from the Hall to arm themselves, prepared to strike at a word from their King.

  I leave to prepare for war, too, heading straight for the stairs. Cyrus follows, matching me step for step.

  I change into fighting leathers, secure boots with straps and buckles. Cyrus dresses similarly, his battered and scarred crown resting upon his head.

  We arm ourselves from our private armory with stakes and guns, grenades and gas bombs.

  From a safe buried in the wall, we unearth two swords—the very same swords we wielded in the war against our son. The one Cyrus used when he cut our son’s head from his body.

  Armed to the teeth, we rejoin the others.

  In our very long lives, it seems like two hours should go by quickly. But it’s as if each minute is an hour. Quietly we wait, our eyes trained on the mouth of the canyon.

  Just hours ago, as the human army marched toward the canyon, Lorenzo’s children retreated. Now, as we look toward the mountains, all I can see is Matthias’ army.

  The first hour passes.

  I think of the last war we fought here on Roter Himmel’s soil.

  Another thirty minutes go by.

  I remember the lives we lost the first time we fought for our secrecy.

  Another ten minutes goes by.

  And then through the dark, we see the shape of three figures headed up the road toward us.

  Gunter, Brynn, and Matthias.

  I step forward, followed by Cyrus, to meet them half way in the middle of the road.

  “They’re smarter than I would have hoped for,” Gunter speaks first. “We searched the canyon, went all the way back to the town, even back into the next one. There were no signs of Lorenzo’s descendants.”

  “Any of them?” I question, sure I’m misunderstanding him. “Any of the dozens and dozens?”

  “None of them, Sevan.”

  “Well, where the hell did they go?” I demand, my brows furrowing.

  “I did find one group, hiding in the woods,” Brynn says. As I look at her, I realize she’s covered in splashes of blood. “They were hiding.”

  “They split off,” Matthias jumps in. “About three hours ago, they started splitting off into groups, heading back away from Roter Himmel. They were…discrete about it. It took us a while to realize what they were doing.”

  “So now they’re spread out, who knows where, just…watching us?” I ask in horror.

  “And you and your army did nothing to stop them?” Cyrus seethes. His eyes glow brilliant in the darkness, and the wrath on his face makes him look terrifying.

  “Our army came to help contain four hundred individuals who were not expecting our arrival,” Matthias says. And I am impressed. He stands up to both Cyrus and I without hesitation. “That, up there, was a bomb waiting to detonate. That, up there, was far more than a hundred individuals, and I will not take unnecessary risks with the lives I am in charge of.”

  I feel my face go cold. “More than a hundred,” I say. “How many are there now?”

  “At least double that,” Matthias says, snapping his eyes to me.

  Two hundred. With more arriving every minute.

  And now, those already here are hiding.

  Without another word, Cyrus turns and goes back to the crowd at the castle gates. I follow him wordlessly.

  “I want hunting parties,” Cyrus says. “Groups. I want you to form teams of ten. Three hunting parties are to go out at one time. We will scour the woods and mountains that surround us. And we will slaughter any descendants we come upon.”

  There’s instant talking, instant movement. Without having to be overseen, they automatically begin forming groups, ten each, as Cyrus instructed. This makes thirty-five groups.

  I understand why Cyrus doesn’t send them all at once. We have to be careful we do not get ambushed. And we can’t leave the castle unprotected.

  “Go,” Cyrus says, indicating the first three groups standing at the forefront of the crowd. Without hesitating, they head out, darting toward the mountains at lightning speeds.

  “This is insanity,” Cyrus says quietly under his breath. “Someone so small, so insignificant for such a long time, should not be this much of a problem.”

  I reach over and take Cyrus’ hand in mine. “We will end this,” I promise. Not just to him, but to myself.

  Chapter 5

  “And that takes the total up to what?” Cyrus asks.

  Brynn shifts uncomfortably under the weight of the King’s eyes, standing beside Matthias. “Twelve,” she reports.

  Twelve. Twelve is the tiny number we have found and slaughtered of the descendants in the last three days we have been hunting for them.

  We’ve been hunting the surrounding mountains. We’ve searched the nearest villages. Every square meter within a hundred miles surrounding Roter Himmel has been searched and re-searched.

  And twelve is the grand total number of descendants we’ve found.

  “What if they’ve left?” Matthias suggests. “Perhaps Lorenzo realized he was outnumbered with my army taken into consideration. Maybe he realized how futile this was. Maybe he took his children and retreated.”

  “I wish that were the case,” I say as I lean against the edge of Cyrus’ desk, folding my arms over my chest. “But Lorenzo was patient for six hundred years. He managed to wait all that time for all those children to be born. I just can’t imagine now that we know, now that he’s exposed them all, and told us the truth, that he will just squander this opportunity. It’s now or never, I think.”

  “He must be waiting for something,” Cyrus says. He sits in his chair, his booted feet propped up on his desk. “Perhaps not all of his children have arrived yet. Perhaps he has retreated to make plans. Perhaps they are even gathering at a location where they have been stockpiling weapons.”

  “There’s any number of reasons why he isn’t striking yet,” I conclude, nodding in agreement with Cyrus. “But we can’t let our defenses down. If Roter Himmel is taken, we’ll fall. This is our stronghold. This is the center of everything. If we lose Roter Himmel, we’ll lose the war. Continue to hold the borders.”

  Matthias and Brynn both give a bow, and leave the office.

  “I don’t like this kind of warfare,” Cyrus says. He twirls the sword between his fingers, the point of it spinning on the ground, the hilt held loosely in his fingers. “All this waiting and hiding. If Lorenzo St. Claire wants to take my crown, he should just march to the doors and rip it from my head.”

  “
He thinks differently than us,” I say. “I can’t imagine the patience the man must possess. He’s waited six centuries to make his move.”

  Cyrus is quiet for a moment, and finally, his eyes slide over to me. “I don’t even remember it, you know?” He studies me a moment longer, but I know it isn’t me he’s really seeing. “Lorenzo said I killed his parents because they were caught drinking from a human. But I don’t remember it. I don’t remember his father’s name. I don’t remember his mother trying to save him. I don’t remember a young boy having to watch it happen.”

  His gaze slides over to a wall and they glaze over. I can feel the weight upon his shoulders filling the room. I feel it press down on me, too.

  I walk around the desk. I push his feet off its polished surface and straddle his hips, sitting in his lap.

  But his gaze is still fixed on the wall, not seeing anything.

  “It is no wonder he hates me so much,” Cyrus continues to muse. “I ripped his family away, and don’t even remember doing it. He thinks me a monster who doesn’t value family, and now he wishes to take them all and make them one.”

  I place my hands on either side of Cyrus’ face, attempting to turn his gaze to me. It takes a moment, but finally he does look at me with his sad, weighted eyes.

  “You are not a monster,” I say. “You are only cruel to protect our people. You do the things you must to keep us safe. They may not recognize it and that is because they have never had to live in fear. But you know, and I know, the life that would await us if we were exposed. Lorenzo’s father knew he should have been more careful. He knew the potential consequences for doing what he did. You have to enforce the rules to protect us all.”

  There’s pain in Cyrus’ eyes. There’s regret. He squeezes them closed, and I press my forehead to his, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, holding him close.

  “I’m so tired of it all, Sevan,” he says quietly. “I’m tired of the games. I’m tired of the politics. I’m tired of ruling.”

  Emotion bites the back of my eyes, but I don’t let the tears well. My heart does twist in a knot, though. My stomach feels so heavy. “I know, im yndmisht srtov. Me, too.”