House of Royals(40)

Because this man that I’m looking at, he is immortal. This is a man who survived a brutal attack by dozens of people. A fire. This man killed dozens of people in less than an hour.

I can’t imagine him being dead.

Even though I’ve never once met him.

But Rath says he is, and the sadness in his eyes tells me it’s true.

Loyalty runs deeper than blood, and Rath was loyal to my father. I will never question that.

“One thing you should know about daddy dearest is that no one knew a damn thing about him.” Ian had told me that early on, and it’s inexplicably true.

“Who are you?” I whisper to him.

I’m about to turn away when something I’d never noticed before catches my eye. The form of a raven is painted subtly into the black of his suit jacket.

I hold the key head up, comparing them. It’s the exact same raven, wings folded up, about to beat down in flight. Claws outstretched as if to grab something. Every detail is the same.

The raven is the symbol of the house of Conrath. That evidence is everywhere throughout the very house.

But this is more than just marking your possessions with a symbol—this is an obsession.

I loop the chain around my neck once again and let the key fall to my chest.

My father wanted me to have this key, and there was a reason for that. I don’t know if this is a test or a puzzle, but I will figure it out.

My eyes shift from the portrait to the shelf just to the left of it.

There are four glass jars sitting there, filled with some kind of gray dust. I trace my fingers down one slowly.

And realize that it’s not dust, and these aren’t jars.

They’re urns.

“And who were you four?” I breathe.

There are so many mysteries to my father and this house. I wonder if I’ll ever unlock them all.

I walk out onto the back veranda and watch as the sun makes its way toward the horizon. The day is hot, humid in the worst way. My clothes stick to my body.

I need some stress relief, and no one is around. The staff has gone back home for the night. Rath is taking care of business, which he always seems to be doing, even though I have no idea what his business actually is.

I have the Estate to myself.

I strip my clothes off and throw them into one of the many rocking chairs on the veranda. I stand with my toes on the edge of the pool and dive in.

The water is cool and soothing. Bubbles rise out of my nose as I propel myself through the water. I break through the surface and fold my arms over the side of the pool, looking out over the river.

I’ve walked the riverbank several times. It smells like nature down there, but there is something frightening about it. So wide, deep, and old. Just like everything else around here.

There are houses across the river, small in the distance. It’s a whole different State over there. I’ve never even been in Louisiana, and I see it every day.

I’ve seen so little of the world.

“Nice view, huh?”

I nearly drown myself as I whip around in the water. My grip on the side of the pool slips and my head half dunks under the water.

Ian stands there in the doorway into the house. His hands half in his pockets, his feet spread wide, relaxed as can be, with a coy smile on his lips.

I swear as I clasp my hands around my breasts because there they are, and the water isn’t going to hide much. “Seriously, Ian?” I scream. “I thought all you males here were supposed to be Southern gentlemen.”

“I never made that claim,” he says shaking his head, and still smiling with pride.

I swim to the other side of the pool, using just my legs. Finally out of his view, I hurl as much water as I can at him.

“Damn, Liv,” he says with a laugh and mild annoyance in his voice. He’s half soaked. It was a good wave I sent his way. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Serves you right, asshole,” I growl at him, even though a smile is fighting its way onto my face. “Just standing there and gawking like an Neanderthal.”

“How could I not?” he teases me with that wicked smile. He grabs the hem of his soaked tank and pulls it up and over his head. My face heats, and I turn my eyes away, but not before catching the sight of his sculpted chest, the rock hard stomach.

“What are you doing?” I hiss at him, fighting off a smile.

“It’s hot,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “You got me all wet, and I thought I’d join you in that very refreshing water.”

“Like hell you’re getting in here!” I protest. But really, the thought has my insides doing all kinds of acrobatics. I just stare at the tree on the edge of the river.

Ian is quiet for a minute. And suddenly something drops in the water right next to me.