by Keary Taylor
But who the hell can I talk to?
Certainly not Eshan. Not when he was abandoned as a baby and left for dead before someone took him to the orphanage.
I can’t call Mom or Dad now, not that I could even begin to explain this to them.
Amelia couldn’t handle the truth.
All I want is to talk to Cyrus about this.
Anger, hot and vile rips through my blood.
I grab a vase sitting on a side table, and hurl it at the mirror on the wall as I walk past it.
Chapter 11
Over the next twenty-four hours, I do not get two seconds to sit down or five minutes to catch my breath.
I find a note from Larkin in my office, saying that he has found the three Born. He has them in a secure location and is implementing persuasive interrogation measures.
My mind rests a little easier knowing all the Born players are either in custody, or dead.
But there’s still that spark of doubt in my brain, the one that tells me this extends far beyond just the Born.
I spend over ten million dollars in preparation. Over two thousand years, Cyrus has built up an incredible amount of wealth, but it still feels like a huge hit.
But it will all be worth it if we know we are safe and can trust those around us.
Dorian, Malachi, and I set up camp in Cyrus’ office. We lock the doors, and I know the room is soundproof, but still we end up largely talking in whispers. We have maps and spreadsheets spanning across the room. There are timelines drawn up. We review the plan over and over and over.
To execute what we have planned, we should need months. The scope of it is so enormous.
But we don’t have that kind of time.
It may already be too late.
Word has already spread around the globe of Cyrus’ murder. So many players could be moving against us already.
So the three of us accomplish the impossible in mere hours instead of months.
“They will be here in twenty-six hours,” Malachi says when he hangs up the phone.
I look to Dorian, who gives an agreeing nod.
With one last look around the room, I realize that we’re done.
We’ve finished everything we can do. We’ve got everything in place.
“Then we wait,” I say, nodding. “We each know our position to take when they arrive.”
There’s a weighted moment where no one says anything. So I take a step, headed to the door.
I still have other business to attend to.
“It’s madness,” Malachi says. “Your plan.”
I look back at him, preparing for a protest or a challenge.
“But it’s brilliant,” he adds. I see awe and respect there in his eyes. “Far more brilliant and beautiful than anything Cyrus would have devised. And in the end, their devotion to you will be one hundred fold. They are going to worship you after this.”
I blink. My brain, my eyes, my soul are tired.
But I’m grateful. “Thank you,” I say evenly.
Dorian bows to me, agreement reflected in his impressed eyes.
I offer them a small, appreciative smile. It’s all I have energy for. And I leave the office.
Because I am Queen. Ruler over this powerful domain that exists in the regular world. And I am far from finished on this evening.
I easily navigate through the castle and turn corner after corner, until finally, there is the interrogation room at the end of the hall, and Ian and Alivia wait there for me.
“What do you have?” I demand, harsher than I should. I only have so much time, and the stress of it all is turning me into a not very pleasant person.
“Mina doesn’t know a whole lot about him,” Alivia starts. I’m grateful she seems to understand my urgency, even if she has no clue what is coming. “He doesn’t often come to the castle, hasn’t had much interaction with Cyrus.”
“I spoke with two of your first interviewees,” Ian says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Apparently, he travels quite a bit. Sounds like he goes around the globe pretty regularly.”
“Doing what?” I ask, my brows narrowing.
Ian shrugs. “No one seems to know in particular, but it sounds like he just gets bored and has a case of wanderlust. Live long enough, I can see that happening.”
I nod, though it makes me a little uneasy. “What else?”
“His father and mother were killed a long, long time ago,” Ian continues. “No one seems to know the details very clearly, but there’s something about his father feeding on a human and getting caught. But Lorenzo was only thirteen at the time, so he basically raised himself.”
A small pang of sympathy stabs in my stomach.
None of that seems fair.
“He has four children here at Court,” Alivia says. I look over to meet her eyes, surprise in both of ours. “They’re all over a hundred years Resurrected. From what we can tell they’re pretty close, they all live in the same house here in Roter Himmel.”
Interesting. I have four biological half siblings.
“Anything else?” I ask as my heartbeat increases.
Ian looks at Alivia and gives a little shake of his head. “That’s all we were able to gather in such a short amount of time.”
I nod. “Well, at least it’s something. Let’s get this started.”
Alivia looks at her husband, nerves written all over every bit of her body language. But like a mask appears over her face, she composes it. She stands a little straighter. And then two of them step toward the door.
When Ian sets his hand on the knob, my hand darts out, touching his shoulder.
“Wait,” I say in a quick breath. They both look back at me. “What’s his name?” Goose bumps flash over my arms. “His real name?”
I meet my mother’s eyes, and I know, after all these years, how relieved she has to be to finally know it.
“Lorenzo St. Claire,” she says.
Ian opens the door, and the two of them step inside, sitting face to face with the man who keeps running his fingers through his hair.
I swallow once, trying to force down the hard knot in my throat. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stand in front of the one-way mirror, looking into the room, having no idea what to expect.
Ian drags back a seat, immediately sitting across from Lorenzo. But it’s him I watch. His face. He looks back and forth from Ian to Alivia, and back to Ian.
I don’t see any signs of recognition in his face when he sees my mother.
That seems genuine.
“Sorry about that wait,” Ian says, though he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. “Things have been a little busy here in the castle as of late.”
“Can I ask what I’ve done?” Lorenzo asks. His voice is hoarse and rough, like he needs a drink.
But the sound of his voice sends goose bumps flashing across my arms.
That’s the voice of the other half of my DNA.
And it speaks with an unidentifiable accent.
Slightly German. Maybe a little Italian. I don’t even know what the rest is.
But Italian. As I look at him, as I think about my own face, I’d guess that’s where his—our roots could be from.
I may look just like Alivia, but as I stare at this man, I’m starting to pick up little traces I got from him. The arch of his brows. His ears. The thickness of my hair. The way we hold our shoulders.
Hell. I’ve heard six words from his mouth, but I can’t deny it. This man is my biological father.
“That’s what we’re not really sure about,” Ian answers Lorenzo’s question. “But to get right to things, I have to ask: do either of us look familiar to you?”
There’s no beating around the bush when it comes to Ian. I raise an eyebrow, impressed with his boldness.
Lorenzo’s eyes flick from Ian, over to Alivia, and then back to Ian. “Neither of you is from Court, or I would have recognized you immediately.” He studies Ian for a long moment, but I don’t see any kind of recogniti
on alight in his eyes.
They then slide over to Alivia, and he studies her longer. His eyes narrow, and I can tell he’s wracking his brain.
I watch him, so close. We need to know the truth. We need to be able to tell if he’s lying. But I don’t see anything masked there. I don’t see any hidden stories in his expression.
“You look familiar maybe,” he muses, but there’s uncertainty on his face. His eyes narrow again, but he shakes his head. “I assume you’re associated with one of the Houses. You have that confidence about you. But,” he shakes his head again. “I’m sorry, I travel a lot, so there are a lot of faces, you know?”
Damn. I believe he’s telling the truth.
Not what I was expecting.
“How long has it been since you last traveled through the state of Colorado in the United States?” Alivia asks.
And I respect her bravery. She just says it. Like she isn’t terrified.
Maybe I get some of my salty boldness from her.
“Co…” he trails off, wracking his brain. “Colorado.”
And slowly, so slowly that I know he isn’t faking it, a light dawns in his eyes.
“Alivia,” he pulls her name from the recesses of his memory. He nods. “You…you took your father’s place, then?” His eyes are wide, surprised, and there’s a spark of…something that lights in them.
“You didn’t hear?” Ian asks, doubtful. “It was kind of a big deal when it happened. You didn’t notice that King Cyrus was missing for nearly a month?”
Lorenzo’s eyes widen a bit but he shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s something that’s happened a lot over the past 286 years. Life here in Court is different than out there in the world. You don’t have to pay attention to all the players quite the same.”
“So you knew who I was when you met me, David Smith?” Alivia asks with a little bite in her voice.
David Smith. No wonder she was so sure he hadn’t given her his real name. It might not have been John Smith, or John Doe, but just as generic.
He doesn’t give much of a reaction at being called on lying. He sits forward, looking down at the table. “I didn’t realize at first,” he says. He draws a little circle on the tabletop with the tip of his finger. “I was traveling through the states at the time, a road trip, I guess. I happened to stop there in Colorado and just kind of…wandered. And ended up at that movie theater.”
Alivia looks up at Lorenzo from beneath her lashes. I see it in her face: the embarrassment and shame over whatever happened that night.
“But as we got talking, as you told me about your mom, the connections to Mississippi, you suddenly started to look familiar. Like a man I had once met at Court, a really long time ago.”
Alivia’s face hardens, and her eyes darken.
But Lorenzo’s soften. “But as we kept talking, it became apparent that you had no idea who Henry Conrath was. That you didn’t know what I was. I had no way to be one hundred percent sure that you were Henry’s daughter, but I suspected.”
“Is that the reason you slept with her?” Ian asks. There’s so much bite to his voice, and I can see it: it won’t take much to make Ian snap.
Lorenzo studies Ian. His lips are set thin, his jaw clenched tight. His hands curl into fists. And I can’t blame him. I don’t like it when Ian comes slinging hot, hard words at me, either.
“I’ll admit,” he says, looking up at Alivia. “I was curious. But that night wasn’t all a lie, Alivia. You were…” he shrugs, his eyes dropping to the table surface again. “Sweet. And charming. And I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. So what ended up happening that night, don’t think it was fake.”
I can see from Alivia’s expression that with everything in her, she does, though. She looks sick. Absolutely humiliated.
I place my hand on the knob and pull the door open. With absolute confidence I step into the room and cross to the table.
Lorenzo sits back in his chair, his golden jade-colored eyes widening as he looks at me, his mouth opens, but no words come out.
“Answer me honestly,” I say as I place my palms flat on the table and lean in toward him. “Did you sleep with Alivia, suspecting she was a Royal, as an experiment to see if you could conceive me?”
Lorenzo’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of mine, and I know he sees it. They’re the exact same as his own. They’re unique and unmistakable. And my face, it looks so much like my mother’s.
“I…” he stutters. “Yes, I was curious what would happen, but it wasn’t all about that.” He’s panicking, but also looks…in awe. “I did go back nine months later, though. But when I went back, when I found Alivia again, there was no baby.”
Still, Alivia has no words. She just stares at Lorenzo, a look of betrayal and disgust on her face.
“Look,” he says sitting forward, his eyes wide and imploring as he looks at me. “My parents were taken from me when I was young. I was on my own, had to make all the hard calls myself. Growing up in this town on my own wasn’t easy. I’ve always wanted a family. I have four children here, and yes, I wanted more. I thought maybe, if Alivia had gotten pregnant, maybe I could tell her what she was, and we could have taken the baby back here, and then someday Alivia would have been immortal, and it would have been perfect.”
There’s hope in his expression. Longing.
I just can’t tell if it’s fake.
“But when I returned to Colorado, and there was no baby, I was disappointed,” he says. “No baby. And maybe she wasn’t Henry Conrath’s daughter, after all. She was still leading a normal, human life. So I moved on.”
“So, we have learned you’re no real gentleman,” I say, staring him down. “You hoped she was pregnant, but you weren’t going to stick around during the pregnancy and be any kind of support. You’re obviously a strong family man.”
My blood is hot, and I can tell my eyes have ignited red.
Lorenzo just stares at me, and he doesn’t have a response to that.
It kind of makes me want to spit in his face.
“But I suppose I should be grateful that you were such a curious and charmed man,” I move on, feeling the familiar acid rise in my blood. “Because you slept with Alivia, and nine months later, I was born, and placed with a wonderful adoptive family. So I guess I should thank you.”
But my expression only hardens, and black ink saturates my veins.
“Eight months and three and a half weeks,” Alivia says. “Logan was born a week and a half early.”
Which explains why when Lorenzo returned to Colorado to check on Alivia, there were no signs of a baby. She’d already given birth, and I’d already been placed with my family in Greendale.
“It’s curious, and I’m sure Cyrus would have been very interested to test it back when,” I say, continuing to stare my father down. “A Royal and a female Royal before she Resurrects. Would it always bring the Queen back?”
And suddenly, as if he’s just remembered who I am, he bows his head, nearly touching his forehead to the table.
“I hope you don’t mind being a guest at the castle for a little while longer,” I say as I straighten, standing. Alivia and Ian stand as well and we all three walk to the door. “We may have more questions. I think we should get to know each other a little better.” I look back over my shoulder just before I walk out. “Father.”
It makes my skin crawl, calling him that. But I’m also playing a mind game here, and when his face pales considerably, I know I’ve succeeded.
We close the door behind us, locking Lorenzo inside once more.
Together, we walk down the hall.
“So, is he lying?” Ian asks.
I walk straight ahead, not looking back. I still am not finished on this night.
“Honestly, the last twenty minutes are a little bit of a hazy red blur,” Alivia says, her voice hard and icy. “All I could think was manipulator.”
“I really don’t think he recognized you at first, Alivia,” I state my
opinions. “It’s been nearly twenty-one years since he last saw you, and you aged another…four years after he saw you, so you probably do look a little different.”
We round a corner and start up a staircase.
“Everything he said is logical, I would say. And he admitted he was curious about what would happen between two Royals.” We level out onto the fourth floor. “What I wonder is if he is holding any information back.”
“Like what?” Ian asks.
We step onto the main level and I suddenly stop. “I don’t know,” I say, staring down the long hallway, once again feeling drained and overwhelmed. I turn back, looking at Ian and Alivia. “You’ve done what I asked you to come here and do,” I say. I look to Alivia, who watches me warily now. “Thank you. I know it wasn’t easy coming here. You…” I hesitate for some reason. “You can go home now. Your House needs you.”
Alivia’s brows furrow. She takes a step forward. “Logan, you’re going through…an insane amount of pressure. You don’t know who to trust. Cyrus is…we don’t now what’s going to happen to him. My House is just fine, Logan. You need our help, and you’re going to take it.”
She’s determined. I see that she means it and she isn’t going to back down.
Which makes me feel even more tired, because I know what’s about to come. And I know I have no choice but to let the both of them get wrapped up in the chaos I’m about to unleash on Roter Himmel.
“Okay,” I say.
Without another word, I turn and head up the stairs.
Chapter 12
In my bedroom, I change into nondescript clothes. I braid my hair over one shoulder and pull on a hat. On my way to the entry of the castle, I make a detour. Down to the fourth floor. Through a passageway. And then a huge space opens up.
It’s the size of a ballroom, but there isn’t anything in it. The stone floors stretch out before me. Three of the walls are unadorned. The room is plain, really.
But I turn to the fourth wall, and a feeling of…immenseness washes over me.
There is a mural on this wall. It’s massive considering the ceiling stretches twenty, maybe twenty-five feet high, and a hundred feet wide.