House of Kings(55)

“Enough,” Cyrus says quietly from behind me. I turn to face him, leaving my House to determine if they believe my speech—the truth—or not. “You asked, very boldly, for a deal.”

I nod, taking a step in his direction. “When I Resurrected, you told me that someone very special to me had left. I’ve just confirmed that what you said was a lie.”

Grunts and hisses ripple from the Court members at me calling their King a liar. The circle tightens around me, both from the Court members in preparation for attack, and from certain members of my House in protection.

Maybe I haven’t lost them all for forever.

Raheem jumps forward, drawing his sword, his eyes blazing red.

“I want you to tell me the truth,” I say as I take another step toward Cyrus, stepping around Raheem. “Did you kill him?”

Cyrus too steps toward me. “No,” he says.

“Did you let him leave?” I ask as my throat feels tighter.

Cyrus comes another step closer. “I too will make you a deal. You don’t make a fuss, you make this easy, our trip to Roter Himmel, and then the truth will be revealed to you.”

I study his eyes, long, hard. Search for the truth there. And there’s the tiniest bit of openness there. I think he’s telling me the truth.

“Alright,” I say with a nod. “I will go with you to Austria for my trial. And then, you will tell me where he is.”

A wicked smile curls on his lips and a chill runs down my back. “Deal.”

Cyrus turns and it’s an unquestionable cue that it is time to leave. “You will choose one House member to accompany you. Choose wisely.”

“Let me,” a voice instantly blurts. I look over my shoulder to see Trinity step forward eagerly. “Please.”

She’s the last one I would have expected to want to come with me. I study her for a long time, evaluating her motivation. I can’t figure that out. But the look on her face is desperate, eager. “Please,” she says again.

I nod and turn back. “Trinity will come with me.”

Murmurs break out behind me, the House is surprised, as well, some negatively toward this. But I do not go back on my decision.

“Very well,” Cyrus says as he walks toward the door. “Secure the prisoner.”

Two different guards from either side rush forward to grab me. I realize then, neither of the ones from just before are among the crowd now. I have little doubt Cyrus killed them for letting me get away.

“Someone needs to be in charge of things while you are at trial,” Cyrus says as he opens the front door. “I will hope that your judgment is still worthy and let you decide who can run things in your place. For now.”

I look over my shoulder, and study the faces. Many of them have doubted me. They question. Some look ready to turn. But one stands out, loyal to the end, unwavering in belief.

“Nial,” I say, my heart racing. “Will you please take care of everyone while I am gone?”

“Of course, your highness,” he says as he takes a deep bow. When he looks up again, the expression on his face tells me he believes me. Through and through.

“Take care, House of Silent Bend,” Cyrus says as he turns in the doorway momentarily. “Until we meet again.”

One by one, the Court members file out the door, and Trinity walks ahead of me as I’m forced through the doors. We trudge through the snow. Down the drive. Over the expansive property. I look back at the House one last time as we make our way down the end of the driveway. And I hope and pray it is not for the last time.





“WATCH THE SKY,” I SAY as I look out the back window.

Cyrus and X turn as well, looking out the back window of the limousine we ride in. I study them as they study the retreating, swirling sky. “If I was the one who orchestrated all of this, if I created all those Bitten, wouldn’t you assume that curse was for me?”

They both turn once more to face me. The tension in the air is thick, heavy, like an itchy, wet, wool blanket.

“Would that curse still be hanging over Silent Bend if its intended recipient was leaving?” I ask, my voice cold and harsh.

“It doesn’t always work like that,” X says. And the way her eyes flick away, there’s something about it.

“It may take some time,” Cyrus says as he studies me. We race through the dark, a caravan of four limousines that cut silently through the pitch black over unhindered ground—free of snow the moment we left the borders of Silent Bend. “The curses we receive are not always immediately obvious. Are they, chancellor?”

He looks over at X with a mixed expression. Disdain, anger, amusement—it’s always difficult to tell when it comes to Cyrus.