House of Kings(26)

“You’ve returned already.”

My heart leaps into my throat and I jump in my seat, snatching my hand out of Raheem’s. I whip around to see Cyrus standing in the entryway of the library, observing the two of us with much concern and interest.

“Yes, your majesty,” Raheem says as he stands, very calmly, and bows his head just slightly. “I’ve brought Alivia a new subject. He’s just outside if you’d like to speak with him.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cyrus says. His eyes bore into Raheem, as if he can read into Raheem’s soul and pull out the answers to the questions that are tumbling through his head.

My heart continues to pound, sweat breaking out onto my palms.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Cyrus asks, his eyes suddenly whipping to mine. “You seem…nervous.”

I swallow once, and realize my fingers are digging into the padding and fabric of the chair’s arms. I release at once and force my heart to calm, which it instantly does. “I’m just anticipating all the new members who will be arriving shortly. I guess it’s just got me a little on edge.”

It’s only a little bit of a lie.

Cyrus walks into the library slowly. He stops in front of me and crouches to kneel before me, mirroring Raheem’s previous position exactly. The breath catches in my throat as he takes one of my hands in his. “Do not be afraid, my darling,” he says. And that look in his eyes tells me he feels betrayed. He’ll be watching our every move from here on out. “I will be here to assist you, every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” I say around the dryness in my mouth.

“Of course.” He offers me a small, terrifying smile.

Raheem was right. Any little move, any little mistake, will get him killed. And once Cyrus realizes I am not his wife, what’s to keep him from killing me, too?





THE DAYS THAT SLOWLY PASS after Raheem’s return are tense and strained. Raheem and I are careful to not even look at each other, and never speak unless absolutely necessary. There will be no more mistakes.

And I know I’m a horrible person when it’s not as difficult to stay away as it should be.

Jasmine is kept in the well prison. I check on her once a day and when I do, she won’t even look up at me. With each passing day, I see the black veins stretch from her face, creep down her neck, stretch onto her chest and arms. It’s only been a few days, and she already looks like she’s dying from lack of blood.

Cyrus and I go to observe the renovation of the Southern house—which he dubs as the Institute—as the Bitten work on it. The broken windows are replaced. The trees pushing the house down on the northern wing are taken down. Walls are patched. The chimney repaired. The walls in every room are given a fresh coat of paint.

With thirteen bodies, the work goes quickly. Within a week and a half, it has come back to life. It is still far from the House, but it’s beautiful. Livable.

On the fifth day of Cyrus’ game, X returns with identical twin girls, both eager to be associated with Royalty. Sebastian returns the next day with what is little more than a child, a boy the age of twelve, just three days post resurrection.

Three other Court members return with new House members. And I begin to grow worried that my family will not be up to this task since none of them have returned. But as the sun almost rises on the ninth day, Anna walks out of woods to the north of the Estate with a man in tow.

I introduce myself to each of these newcomers. Speak with them for an hour or so. The King stays at my side the entire time, bearing in as a heavy weight and a force they cannot say no to.

I hate that it happens this way. That they truly do not get any choice in this matter. They join or face the wrath of a King.

Fear creeps into my stomach as day ten arrives, and still only Anna has returned.

“They will come,” she assures me as we sit on the front porch in the middle of the night. My breath creates heavy clouds around me as I breathe deep and hard. My eyes scan the property, praying for signs of movement.

“There’s only four more days,” I say. “That’s not very much time.”

“They will come,” she repeats as she places a hand on my shoulder.

As she speaks, I hear movement by the gate. Slowly, Markov and Samuel come walking up the drive. There’s a woman beside Markov. Older, with hair down to her waist. And a man with Samuel, who is covered in tattoos.

I jump from the steps and fling myself at Samuel. “You made it,” I say gleefully. My heart is doing backflips. I move on to Markov.

“You doubted us?” Samuel says in mock offense. “Don’t forget, you’re the baby in this House.”