Dark Reign

by Rachel Jonas

  “What?” She gave a weak shrug, feigning innocence. “I was simply asking a question.”

  “Of course you were,” I replied with a smile.

  We stood in silence while watching the production around us.

  “Drat! I nearly forgot.” She clasped her hands when she remembered something, and I turned to face her. “As fate would have it, my trip to Wakeshire will be sooner than expected, which means I won’t be able to attend the gala.”

  My brow tensed. She was never one to miss social events, but she certainly wouldn’t dream of missing one as monumental as the Quincentennial Celebration.

  I’d heard her mention this trip several times over the past few weeks—another philanthropic effort I was sure—but knew little in regard to its purpose. Even now, as she noted how my interest piqued, she donned a dismissive look to deter me from asking questions.

  “Will you be lodging with the Duke and Duchess?”

  She patted my hand. “No. They’ve recently welcomed their first child into the world, and I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

  The idea of her making the journey alone was unsettling.

  “If you need someone to accompany you, I’m available,” I offered. An offer she immediately responded to by scoffing.

  “Don’t be silly,” she laughed. “Your name is on the lips of everyone who’s anyone. I wouldn’t deprive you of being the center of attention at your first gathering since your big announcement.”

  Little did she know, I wouldn’t have minded the excuse.

  My lips parted to ask another question about her travels, but I wasn’t given the chance.

  “It appears someone else would like a word with you. We’ll chat more after the Address,” she stated mere seconds before making a quick departure.

  Jenna was coming this way after having finished fussing over my father. It was up to her to get him camera ready, and apparently, she’d made it her job to dress me as well.

  I blinked hard when the lapel of my suit was lightly adjusted, and then the knot of my tie. A deep stare peered up from beneath blonde bangs when she brushed her fingertips over the silk.

  “Blue always looked excellent on you. I think it’s the eyes,” she stated with a quiet laugh, acknowledging their silver color that stood out from the typical red. Somehow, her gesture hadn’t garnered my father’s attention or William’s, but I was certain Mother hadn’t missed much from wherever she’d scampered off to a moment ago.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied with a subtle nod. “Congrats on your decision. I’m sure you’ll be as great a Presiding Emperor as your father has been. Maybe better,” she added, placing a hand over her lips immediately after. “I … I didn’t mean to imply that he’s not … um.”

  Watching her flounder, I couldn’t help but to smile. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

  Pristine teeth sank into her lip, and I was certain she would have run off if it hadn’t been her job to oversee things backstage.

  “Well, before I somehow put my foot in my mouth again, I’m gonna go over here and … you know … do my job,” she rambled, gesturing to the opposite direction before taking clumsy steps toward my father again.

  I smiled as she all but hid behind her clipboard. Every now and then, our gazes caught one another’s before I forced myself to look away. My father deserved my full attention, deserved hers as his employee.

  A heavy arm slipped around my shoulders and I glanced to my right. All three of my Dynasty Brothers, freshly shaven, and suited just for the occasion, stood there. When they left my home late in the afternoon, I assumed they’d flown back to their respective kingdoms and would return in a few days for the gala. However, there they were.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” Levi grinned, tightening his arm around me with the words. “You didn’t think we’d miss the opportunity to hear our treasured, Presiding Emperor deliver his final address, did you? Especially seeing as how some smug, know-it-all bastard will be taking his place next year,” he joked, releasing me from his grip.

  “With friends like you, who the heck needs enemies?” I laughed.

  “I just thought you should get used to criticism. Soon, we’ll no longer be the sons of the most powerful men on the planet. We’ll be those men.”

  Hearing it put in that way, things shifted into perspective. However, I barely had time to dwell on the thought before Silas stepped up and gave a nod toward Jenna. He wasn’t shy about letting me know they’d walked up in enough time to witness at least the tail end of the exchange between us.

  “So, I take it you’re going about your hunt for an empress the good-old-fashioned way?” He followed the statement with a less-than-subtle wave in Jenna’s direction.

  She returned the gesture, and then quickly looked away, probably thinking she should have foregone the bold move a moment ago.

  “You’ve clearly been talking to my mother,” I laughed. “If you must know, that’s just Jenna. She’s been on staff for a couple years, and I assure you, she was only being kind.”

  “Yeah … kind of obvious, maybe,” Levi countered.

  Chuffing a short laugh, he slapped a palm to my back as I turned to my father again. Time was winding down. Soon, he’d be behind the podium and millions of viewers would tune in to listen.

  “So, is Just Jenna the lucky lady who’ll be on your arm for the gala? Or at least the one waiting in your bed when it’s all said and done?” With the question, Levi scanned her frame indiscreetly. Luckily, her attention was still focused elsewhere while he practically undressed her with his eyes.

  “Actually, I’m going stag. There wasn’t enough time to send anyone a formal invite, so—”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he cut in, staggering back a step or two. “There wasn’t time to … Are you mad, Julian? You’re a prince, for heaven’s sake! You could send an invitation soaring through a window on a rock and get a yes from every dame inside!”

  When his voice carried a bit more than I think he intended, it earned us a stern glare from my father.

  Offering him a tight smile and wave, Levi leaned closer to speak. “Leave it to me. I’ll find you someone,” he offered, only quieter that time.

  “Not interested,” I told him, knowing he’d never listen anyway.

  “Well, um … I might be interested, actually,” Silas chimed in, raising a hand. He also successfully undermined the response I’d just given.

  Levi lit up with just that small inkling of encouragement.

  “See? Silas has faith in me. Perhaps, he might even be of some assistance,” he added, donning a dark smile. Instead of elaborating, Levi continued. “And as a matter of fact, Roman, I’ve got you covered, too.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Roman rebutted. “I’m not even sure I’ll be there.”

  Levi wouldn’t hear of it, waving him off. He hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer since we were in diapers. The others would definitely back me in this claim.

  “Nonsense. Of course you’ll be there, and we’ll have a smashing time,” he insisted. “Just leave the details to me. The women on our arms will be filthy in all the right ways, and perfect ladies when it counts.”

  It was useless arguing with him.

  “As long as I’m able to keep her far, far away from my mother, I’ll be satisfied,” Silas interjected.

  “Has yours been on your case, too?” I asked.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and we both glanced up at the red, digital numbers above when they began counting down.

  Two minutes.

  “Not so much about whether I’ll be taking someone to the gala,” he replied, “but she’s made it clear she’s concerned about the rest of my life. More specifically, making sure I don’t forget that the world is anxious to see who I decide to spend it with. No pressure, though, right?” There was no missing the sarcasm he was nearly choking on by that point.

  “Well, this coincides with a theory of mine
,” Levi added. “I believe they’ve been discussing the matter behind our backs, because I swear my mother, the lovely and meddlesome Queen of the Western Dynasty,” he said with a mock-bow when uttering his mother’s title, “has also enjoyed throwing her weight around in the love department as of late.”

  “Mine barely let the ink dry on my letter to the press, before she started schooling me about my obligation to meet Ianite expectations,” I added.

  Levi laughed again before one-upping my story. “I believe the warning I received last week was something along the lines of, ‘If you don’t learn how to limit yourself to one woman, you’ll produce enough offspring to singlehandedly cause the greatest blood shortage the Dynasty has ever faced.”

  While I couldn’t argue that the Western Queen’s statement wasn’t invasive, it was also true. Friend or not, Levi had definitely used his status to his advantage, making his rounds with innumerable women within all branches of our fathers’ dynasties.

  He adjusted the jacket of a black, tailored suit, one I was sure came with a hefty price tag like all his others.

  “Her only solace is that I haven’t taken a Doll,” Levi replied. “Although, I will admit, I’ve considered walking one through the palace gates, just to see the look on her face,” he joked. “She’d give me hell. Meanwhile, my father would be around the corner, waiting to ask if I’d brought him one.”

  I chuckled, trying to imagine anyone’s reaction if we were to engage in the age-old tradition of ‘taking Dolls’. While it had become a relatively common practice among men of status, there were still many who had openly rejected the idea, citing that taking in human women in this manner was demoralizing and the ultimate insult to Ianite women worldwide.

  Our mothers were among those offended.

  Well, all except Roman’s. His family situation was … complicated.

  “Quite a few are up in arms about Lord Avery openly flaunting his latest toy—a beautiful, warm-blooded redhead,” Silas quipped. “Had you heard?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Not surprised,” Roman chuckled.

  He was right about that. It seemed every day there was news of others getting on board, hiding their affinity for human women less than in past years. Among our men, there was a stigma attached to owning a human woman, marking her as your own. As a Master, there were two choices. One: to either rule her with an iron fist so she’d never run for fear of the consequences. Or two: spoil her so thoroughly she’d never even think of leaving.

  I, personally, didn’t have time to bother finding the delicate balance between the two. One of many reasons I had no interest in the increasingly popular lifestyle choice.

  But to each their own.

  “Thirty seconds,” Jenna said, speaking to my father as her gaze drifted toward me for a fleeting moment. Somehow, Levi missed the entire exchange, so he didn’t ream me about it.

  It was almost time. A select crowd of roughly five hundred guests waited patiently as the Speaker of the House proceeded to announce the man of the hour, my father. When prompted to step out, he kissed my mother’s cheek and immediately donned the usual air of confidence and regality he always possessed. It was as though the media’s glittering lights that flashed as he crossed the stage, the applause and cheers that arose from the crowd, didn’t faze him.

  He was made for this, had been groomed to rule.

  I could only hope I’d one day come into my own as he had. His reign would be a tough act to follow, but I counted it an honor to show the world the Westower era was not only continuing, it was thriving and more alive than ever. The moment had finally arrived.

  “We’re next,” Levi whispered, an unmistakable gleam in his eye.

  I was certain the words were meant to encourage me, but that wasn’t quite their effect. Instead, they brought a heaviness I didn’t expect, because he was right.

  We were next.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Corina

  Liv was a miracle worker, but I had to admit I was skeptical.

  Three days. That’s all the time she had to scavenge for supplies, barter with vendors on the underground market, and put together an elegant ensemble that wouldn’t mark me as an imposter from a mile away. The Ianite’s expensive taste meant we couldn’t afford to let it show that we cut every corner possible.

  This entire plan had to be airtight or when I left camp tonight … I might not be returning.

  Breathing deep, I tried to think positively.

  Felix had also been busy the last few days. He managed to create the most realistic ID card I’d seen to date, although I hoped I wouldn’t have to use it. His next challenge was finding a clear image of a gala ticket online to make a replica that would get me through the front door. From there, pulling this thing off was solely on me.

  I was posing as a reporter, one attending with hopes of getting an upfront view of the night’s celebration, but I’d also use my fake title to see what information I could get on the blood recall. A chance to speak with Clifford Vol himself would be ideal, but almost too good to be true. So, I’d settle for a go at some of his cronies, or even a chance to eavesdrop on loose-lipped officials exploiting the situation as mere small talk.

  Either way, I’d soon find myself under the same roof as those who held each morsel of pertinent information in this incident. If the team and I were ever going to piece it all together, it would start tonight, at the gala.

  “Sit,” a bubbly voice demanded. Liv hadn’t said it, but she was excited about this. No, not the part where I had to venture into enemy territory alone and unarmed, but she was definitely looking forward to the part where she got to give me what she considered to be a “much-needed makeover”.

  Her words, not mine.

  With me in her chair, my hands were lifted and brought close for a dirt check. Seeing that I had successfully dug out all the gunk from beneath my nails, she pulled out a file from a rusted toolbox she’d repurposed as a makeup kit for the occasion. She clipped and buffed to her heart’s content, and then started in with a bottle of black polish.

  She was so meticulous with the brush. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if they were sloppy, seeing as how my nails had never been given attention beyond biting them. Fussing over decorating them had never been a priority. If it wouldn’t make me faster or more adequate on a run, I didn’t bother with much of anything, actually.

  “Ok, blow them while I start on your hair,” she grinned.

  Both wrists were forcibly twisted and bent at awkward angles until my stylist was satisfied, and then the word, “Blow!” was yelled at me again.

  I frowned and did as I was told, keeping an eye on her as she circled behind me. The soft rollers she’d put in my hair after washing it were snatched out, taking several strands with them, all while I scowled and grunted.

  “What the—? Are you okay, Liv?”

  With a sigh, she dug through the case until the item she searched for surfaced—a wide-toothed comb.

  “I’m fine, admittedly a bit nervous, but I’m good. There’s just a tiny bit of pressure to make sure you look the part, you know?”

  I got it. While some aspects of this were fun for her, others were not. She felt responsible, and I understood why. A large part of this mission coming together relied on how well I blended in with everyone else.

  “Well, just consider this my gift to you,” I teased. “You’ve always wanted to give me a new look, so here’s your chance. Besides, I trust you.”

  In the reflection of a fractured mirror, I saw a smile. It never crossed my mind that she wouldn’t do her best, so I was completely at ease about this portion of the plan.

  I stared at my own reflection next. The night before, Liv had opted to do some of the prep work, a frenzy of tweezing and plucking, so already I saw a change. I looked more refined, more like one of them.

  The arch of my brow was just like the women in the magazines Liv scored at the dump. Those were the sources we drew from to mimi
c what was trending in Ianite fashion. Bold colors, lots of dramatic flair and statement pieces. We set these as our goalposts.

  A couple snarls later and my hair was coming together. Liv wanted to leave it down, but I wanted it up and out of my way. So, we compromised, weaving a braid across the front, and pinning it to death until it actually looked like something we did intentionally. The rest fell down my back, in loose waves after brushing out the curls. She had the idea to rub a couple perfume samples through it just to make sure it smelled fresh. We rubbed some on my neck and wrists as well, and then commenced with a head to toe dousing of a spray Banks and Shay concocted together. Infused with mint and eucalyptus—both known to effectively mask our human scent from sensitive Ianite noses—this step was equally as vital as all the other precautions taken as I dressed.

  Makeup was next, and that’s where it got interesting. My skin needed to have the same pale tone of the Ianites, finalized with a pair of red contacts we had to barter to score. So, for the cost of three peppermint sticks and a pre-war, vintage coin known as a quarter, my eyes were now the perfect shade of crimson to fit in with the others.

  It was all so … strange. As Liv put on the finishing touches, I stared at myself, equal parts impressed she’d done such a believable job, and also a bit disturbed to see myself as one of them.

  I couldn’t imagine it, being on that side of things. Pretending was odd enough, but even the thought of giving up my humanity nearly brought me to tears. In fact, they might have fallen if I wasn’t afraid Liv would kill me for making my mascara run—Lord knows I was wearing a ton of it.

  Dark-red gloss was smoothed over my lips. After instructing me to purse them together a few times, she brought a pair of lavish earrings from her pocket. Multicolored gems glittered in the light and I knew she couldn’t have scored them on a run.

  “We rob jewelry stores now?” I asked, feeling my eyes stretch wide at the sight of them.

  She laughed and stared at the pair in such a way that I knew they held value, far beyond anything we could afford.

  “They’re old. Family heirlooms,” she clarified. “I’ve somehow managed to hold on to them, thinking I’d one day have a good reason to give them some air. Can’t think of a better reason than this,” she shrugged, pushing my hair back to insert them.