House of Kings(51)

Cyrus is alive.

He was staked. In the heart.

But here he is, alive. Standing.

King Cyrus, King and ruler of the vampires, is a true immortal.

A ruler who cannot be killed.





“YES, IT IS TRUE,” CYRUS says. The crowd has stilled, holding baited breath. Every one of us unable to believe what we have just witnessed. “I cannot be killed.”

And the House erupts. Gasps. Cries of disbelief. Fear. Confusion.

For just the briefest of moments, the attention has turned away from me.

The implications of what this truly means is terrifying. Cyrus is demented. Cruel. Cold and blood obsessed. For thousands of years, he’s ruled his kind. He’s kept us secret. He’s taken care of us. But what if the tables flip? What about that time when society falls, and he rises, like he said, and the only way to protect the world is to kill him? And he can’t be killed?

The cacophony is deafening.

“So, the King cannot be killed!” Godrick bellows over the crowd. “Is it really so surprising? The problem at hand is that this woman ordered his execution!”

My heart drops out from the bottom of my feet. “No!” I scream. “I swear, I didn’t!”

Shouts. Screams. Demands for answers. Calls for my immediate death. Words like beheading and burned at the stake.

I will not survive the night if something does not change right now.

But I’m being dragged through the crowd, which shifts to the ballroom. Feet pound everywhere. I’m stepped on, pushed, shoved. A stampede threatens to break out, but even in my mansion, there is only so much room.

“Give her a chance to explain!” a commanding voice cuts through the chaos. Markov.

“Calm down!” Lillian yells. “Let’s talk this through!”

I drop from the grasp of whoever is dragging me, and I’m nearly trampled underfoot. Someone spits in my face, hitting me just below the eye.

Suddenly, glass shatters and one of the chandeliers above us goes shattering to the marble floor, causing the crowd around me to scatter. Little shards of crystal embed themselves into my left arm.

Standing at my side, gently pulling me to my feet, is Raheem.

“You all will cease acting like savages,” he hisses through clenched teeth. His eyes glow, black veins stretching across his face. He’s pulled his single-edged sword from its sheath and stands before me, ready to kill. “You will hear her out and she will be given your ear!”

The silent crowd parts, letting Cyrus walk forward. Most of his veins have retreated, now only being centered around his eyes. The risen King still bears shredded clothing, blood saturating his front.

An entirely new reverence fills the ballroom as all eyes turn to him. Fear, awe, uncertainty fill the faces of all. More than one immortal Born drops to their knees, their heads bowed. The weight in the air is suffocating. It’s obvious that most of the Court, if not all, had no idea that he was truly immortal.

“Death and destruction and chaos rule in your town, Alivia Conrath,” Cyrus says. He stops three feet from Raheem, who stares the King down with death in his eyes. “I should kill you now. I should rip your heart from your chest this very moment. But my loyal spy, one I have had the chance of working with for nearly a millennium with has asked that we let you speak. So speak.”

My insides quiver for the first time since my Resurrection. My hands sweat. My bottom lip threatens to quiver.

I am terrified.

I am no ruler.

I am a girl.

A girl about to be put to death for something I did not do.

“Something has been happening since before I arrived in Silent Bend,” I begin, stepping forward, around Raheem. He stands close behind me, his blade at the ready. “Since before I knew anything about our world. People were attacked, Bitten created. I was attacked by one myself the very first night I left this house.”

“Staging!” someone yells from the crowd. “You knew you couldn’t be killed!”

“All for show!”

“No!” I yell, shaking my head. “I thought I was going to die. I didn’t know the explanation for why a seemingly human person had bitten me!”

Desperation crawls up my throat. I had to make them understand.

“Before I claimed leadership of this House, Jasmine’s House was attacked,” I continue explaining. “Multiple times. Ask them. It was before they came to me.” I search the crowd desperately for their faces.

My eyes find Lillian, who was attacked. But the expression on her face is leery. Unsure.

“It’s true,” Samuel says, his brows furrowed. “Nearly all of us were attacked by this Shadow Army. But it was before we joined your House.”

“When we were your enemies.” It’s Anna. And I can see the gears turning in her head—putting pieces together and realizing the timeline of things.