House of Kings(47)

Cries and shouts rise up into the air, so much noise telling me who the most likely traitor is.

But I tone them all out. I study their faces. Luke. Who has done so much to protect Silent Bend. Who has helped me with everything I’ve asked. But who has made it very clear that things were so much better before I showed up in town.

Trinity. She’s shown an obvious hatred for me since day one. She chose to side with Jasmine until the very last second. She only came to my House when there was no other option. Yet, she watched firsthand the punishment for betraying me when Cyrus killed Micah and Jasmine.

A sweat breaks out on my hands.

Which one?

I have to kill someone or they both die.

Who betrayed me?

The sheriff? Trinity?

The shouts grow louder and more panicked. I glance over at the timer and see I have two seconds left.

And in that moment of pressure, in that moment of panic and life and death stakes, I have a perfect moment of clarity.

It is not the right decision. Because I realize there is no correct decision.

There is only the one I have to live with.

The blade flies from my hands.

And embeds itself in Danielle’s chest.

A choked off gasp cuts from her throat. Her eyes grow wide as she falls backwards. Her head bounces off the marble when she hits the ground. Blood instantly seeps from the wound, saturating her shirt. The pink in her skin leeches away and the grey of death claims her flesh.

Not a sound is heard in the ballroom as all eyes shift from Danielle’s dead body, to me.

But I feel one weighty set of eyes on me, and turn to meet the gaze of the King.

“Neither of them betrayed me,” I say, calm and low. “You said this was a test in snap judgment and decisions. It was neither of them, but you said someone had to die. It didn’t have to be one of the two of them.”

And slowly, one tiny muscle movement at a time, the smile curls on Cyrus’ face. “That is correct.”

And everyone goes crazy. Shouts. Cries. Words of congratulations and encouragement.

But there’s a little piece of my heart that dies.

Because I just killed an innocent girl. A girl whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time when I couldn’t control my thirst.

“Members of the Court!” Cyrus suddenly bellows. “Pack your bags, for tomorrow night, we depart!”

This causes all the more stir. Sevan’s name is thrown into the air. There is so much confusion—so many questions left unanswered.

“I will talk to you in an hour, my dear,” Cyrus says, leaning in close, his hand on the small of my back. He presses the lightest of kisses to my cheek before walking away.

I feel numb. So very cold. I walk forward, not hearing a word from the crowd that fills the ballroom. I walk around Danielle, feeling my stomach roll. I walk toward the hall. And all the blood in my body pools to my feet when I see Rath, standing in the entryway, and the look on his face tells me he watched everything.

“I’d like a moment, Alivia,” he says.

I don’t want to go. I can’t face him after what I just did.

But I also cannot run away.

So, I follow him into the library. He closes the doors behind us, blocking out most of the noise.

I swallow once as I sit. And it takes every ounce of strength I have to look him in the eye.

“I’m leaving, Alivia,” Rath says. “I’ve served the Conrath family for all these years because of not just what they stand for, but what they did in action. Death and violence are things I left far, far in my past. And I do not wish to accept it back into my life. I cannot return to it. This is my official letter of resignation.” He does indeed hold an envelope in his hand. “I’ve already hired someone to take over my duties, someone like…yourself.”

Tears pool in my eyes as I finally look at him. My lip begins to quiver and my insides shake. The most human I’ve felt in a very long time.

“My bags are already packed,” he says. The strain in his voice tells me this isn’t easy on him, either. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

And it takes everything I have in me when I stand. When I take three, four, five steps across the library to him. My arms feel as if they’re filled with lead and ice as I bring them up to pull Rath into an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out in a whisper.

But Rath does not offer an “I know,” or any words of comfort. He simply allows me to hold him for a few moments. And then, he pulls away. He offers the smallest of small smiles. He turns for the door, and pulls it open.

“Goodbye, Alivia Ryan.”

And then he’s gone.





“THE KING IS ASKING FOR YOU.”

I don’t look up when Lillian speaks. My eyes remain locked on the portrait of my father. I’m slouched in my chair, my knees tucked up to my chest. I’ve got a blanket pulled up around my shoulders and head. I’m not cold, but I certainly am trying to disappear.