I stand alone, apart—horror and wonder and hatred and love filling me to the brim.
This was my birthright. Blood and terror and allegiance.
I’m Alivia Conrath, and this is what it truly means to be a House ruler.
“IT’S A BEAUTIFUL HOUSE, NOW that it’s all fixed up.”
Danielle walks by my side. Door after door leads to more bedrooms. The walls are patched. The windows that were broken, replaced. The floor has been sealed and polished. A new chandelier hangs in the foyer.
Rath has just left. As usual, he’s taken care of everything—now that the contractor is dead.
It isn’t the House. The Institute is still not perfect. With the new renovations, it’s lost some of its classic charm. But it’s a home. It’s fit. It’s repaired. It’s still beautiful and grand.
“Yes, it is,” I agree as we come to a stop in the great room.
It’s now adorned in lavish furnishings. Three grand couches. A beautiful rug in the middle of the floor. Paintings unearthed from the attic. It’s beautiful and must be one of the most impressive homes in Silent Bend now.
Lillian stands in the middle of the room, chatting with two of the new Born. When they see me approach, they bow their heads and walk away.
“Thank you for doing this,” I say. “They’ll need teaching, direction. Once we feel they’re properly trained, we’ll reevaluate the living arrangements.”
“Of course,” Lillian offers with a smile. She follows me as we walk back out toward the foyer. “Some of them know our ways, others barely know what they are. We will educate them. Make them ready.”
X walks down the stairs, her hand trailing over the railing. “It would be best we begin right away. We have little time to waste.” She stops at the bottom of the stairs, folding her hands in front of her, looking at me with impatience.
It’s been obvious, this entire time, that X doesn’t care for me. It’s difficult to tell if she doesn’t like anyone, or if it’s just me who’s so lucky. “Of course,” I agree, offering an annoyed smile. “We will leave you to it. Let’s go,” I say to Danielle.
The two of us walk to the front doors, and just as we step outside, I find Danny sitting on the front porch. He rests in a white rocking chair, his feet propped on the railing. Those dark eyes study me, searching me over. “Alivia,” he says with the slightest nod of his head.
I offer him a smile before turning to leave.
Something about him unsettles me. His quiet ways. His odd requests and statements. But I think mostly it’s his eyes. He sees too much. Sees the truth and my truth is blurred these days.
Snow begins to fall once more. We’ve gained another inch just in the last two hours.
“I guess the curse storm wasn’t for Jasmine,” I mull to myself out loud.
“I always wondered if the curses were real or just scary stories my grandma told,” Danielle says as we trudge through the snow. It’s too deep to drive around town. But walking through the snow isn’t a difficult task with our newfound strength.
“I’ve heard too many stories to deny they’re real,” I say. My eyes scan the dark, searching for signs of people coming back into town. “Maybe this is for me. Maybe it’s for the King or just our forsaken town. Maybe it’s for an enemy we can’t even see.”
Like whoever is creating the Shadow Army of Bitten. The one who hides in the dark, only to emerge when we least expect them.
We travel in silence for several minutes. The flakes fall thick and heavy. The snow clings to my hair, melting into my skin. But I don’t feel cold. Not even a bit.
“Danielle,” I say, thinking of the cold. “Why were you in that house, the night I turned you?”
She looks over at me, but I don’t return her gaze. She unsettles me. She makes me feel guilt, and I don’t need any more of that these days.
“Poverty is a very real thing in this town,” she answers. “I lost my job about three months ago. Haven’t been able to find another. I got kicked out of my apartment just a week before this storm started. That same day my car broke down. I couldn’t leave town. But I also had nowhere to get away from the cold.”
“You were homeless?” I ask, my brows furrowing. And I feel even worse.
“Can I ask you something?” Danielle asks, changing the subject instead of admitting the truth.
“I guess.”
“You and Ian were together, despite what you were and everything he believed,” she says. My hands curl into fists at the topic she’s chosen to bring up. “You had to know it wouldn’t end well. So I ask: did you love him?”