by Keary Taylor
Let him go.
I’ve told myself that so many times over the past few weeks.
Let go.
I raise my chin.
I put my hand on the door.
I take a deep breath.
And I walk out as Alivia Conrath.
The house is of course beautiful. Splashes of gold have been thrown everywhere in decoration. Red accents make everything royal and bloody. As I descend the stairs, there are golden garlands wrapped around the railing, mixed with some kind of red berry. Beautiful draperies crisscross the ceiling.
And waiting down at the bottom of the stairs is everyone.
My House. The Court.
The King.
He wears a golden crown. He’s dressed in black, a tuxedo with a red shirt. He’s absolutely stunning.
The look on his face as I descend is hopeful. Prideful. Lustful. A smile will not be denied his lips as he watches me take one step after another. Closer and closer I come, and my heart flutters quickly.
I told Lillian I wished I were the Queen. And here, looking into his eyes, for a moment, I forget I am anything but her.
“You are breathtaking, my dear Alivia,” Cyrus says as I reach the landing. He takes my hand in his and bows deeply. Reverently, he kisses it.
When he stands, his eyes go to the many people who surround us. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present Alivia Ryan Conrath, the rightful leader of the House of Silent Bend.”
He takes the Raven crown X extends to him and, holding my eyes the entire time, he lowers it onto my head.
It’s the first time I’ve worn the crown, and it’s the first time that it’s felt absolutely and one hundred percent my birthright.
“The House of Conrath is an old and complicated one,” Cyrus says as he takes my hand once more and stands at my side. “I was pleased to call Elijah my friend and though I did not know Henry well, he was a royal and of our blood. This region has floundered for a very long time. You all have wandered, lost and ungoverned. Without a family. And now, with Alivia’s Resurrection, this House has been restored to glory.”
The King raises our hands high in the air and everyone breaks out into clapping and cheers.
“Tonight we celebrate,” Cyrus calls over the cacophony. “Be merry and drink, for we live forever!”
I did not notice the orchestra until they begin playing. The crowd around us naturally migrates toward the ballroom. Like the rest of the house, the massive space is decorated in golds and reds.
But standing along the walls, I see two dozen people. And with just one deep breath, I know they are human. The burn ignites in my throat tenfold. It leaps into my chest, to my toes, to my fingertips. The numbing toxin drips from my lengthened teeth.
My fangs sink into a soft neck, and I’m overcome once again with that blissful sensation—the best thing in the world.
I pull. Suck.
Three times.
Four.
Five.
“Pace yourself, my queen.”
Someone pulls me, none too gently away from what I crave more than anything I have ever wanted. An angry hiss rips from my throat, and I turn to swing at whomever it was that interrupted my meal.
But I freeze when it’s Markov. His eyes glow brilliantly red, but they stare me down, begging me to remember who I am.
Horror once again fills my face, and I turn back to my victim.
It’s an older woman, probably in her sixties. She wears a beautiful green dress, her hair styled to reflect her age. She stands there with a hand covering her neck, blood trickling down from the puncture wounds. Red splashes down over her dress.
It’s immensely disturbing that she looks back at me with a kind smile. She seems…happy about what I’ve just done.
“I…” I stumble away from her. I crash into Markov and he catches me with understanding arms. “I can’t. I’m… How do I control it? I don’t want to hurt anyone!”
Markov rights me and turns me to face him. He’s trying to hold my attention, but I keep glancing over my shoulder, back at the woman I attacked.
“Every Born is different when they Resurrect,” Markov explains, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him. He produces a handkerchief from his breast pocket and begins cleaning my face. It comes away with so much blood. “Some are Born with great amounts of self-control. Others cannot fight the bloodlust. But both are natural, my dear. Do not fight what you are. It will only bring you misery.”
“Markov…” I say in horror and self-disgust. “I cannot be a blood-driven, psychotic murderer. I…” I pant, trying to reign myself in. “I have to get a grip on myself. I have to learn to control it.”
Markov takes both my hands in his and looks me deep in the eyes. “You will. Eventually. But this is not the party to feel guilty over feeding.”
His eyes dart around the room, and my own follow suit.
Samuel stands in one corner, his hands on the hips of a beautiful young woman, his fangs sunk into her neck. Lillian seems to be holding a normal conversation with another woman, when the next moment, the woman raises her wrist and Lillian sinks her teeth into her flesh.
Cameron walks across the room, toward the food table, and I see him wipe a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth onto his sleeve.
I think I’ve been in denial the last few months since I created my own House. I’ve chosen to ignore their basic instincts. When I first arrived in Silent Bend, I attended a party thrown by Jasmine—and the entire purpose of it was to feed off of the townspeople. Every one of my House members, besides Nial, was at that party and fed off those people.
Now, I am one of them.
I do not know where that woman I bit is from—Silent Bend, across the river—it doesn’t matter. I am no different than any of them.
“The King had them all brought here for this very purpose,” Markov says as he lets me go and stands beside me. “We would have offended him had we not fed and accepted his gift.”
I find the King in the middle of the room. Two gorgeous but very fake-looking women cling to his side, their hands all over him. He smiles, the look in his eyes sultry, and he sinks his teeth into one of their necks.
“I understand,” I say. And I think I feel a little part of my humanity die with the words. “Enjoy the party, Markov. You do not need to babysit me. You feed as you need.”
I hear the movement as he turns to look at me. He studies me for a moment, waiting for me to take it back. He made me a promise once, that he wouldn’t feed in my town. But I’ve given permission. Finally, he takes a step forward, then two, and finds a feeder.
“You look lovely tonight.”
I turn to find Raheem behind me.
He wears a black tunic, adorned in gold stitching and beading. It’s complicated and beautiful. Black trousers and a golden turban. He looks like a Middle Eastern prince.
And that pull I have to him intensifies inside me.
“I’m a mess,” I say, the dismay obvious in my voice.
And it’s true. Markov cleaned the blood from my face, but it still clings to my neck, runs down my chest, between my breasts. It stains the gold sweetheart neckline of Lillian’s beautiful dress.
Raheem shakes his head. “Your true nature is a beautiful thing. I believe vampirism brings out the brightest of our true character. And being true to ourselves is something we should never be ashamed of.”
“I’ve exerted extreme control ever since I claimed my birthright,” I say as I take another step toward him. Raheem’s eyes flick to Cyrus. He’s nervous. We’re pushing it. But I take one more step toward him. “But since my Resurrection, I’ve killed a person without realizing what was going on. I would have killed that woman behind you had someone not stopped me. Are you saying losing control is my true nature?”
He glances once more over at Cyrus, but when he looks back at me, his eyes are dark and soulful. “I’m saying your true self is being true to your instincts. Your instincts knew how to lead. Your new instincts know h
ow to survive. You are both your past and present selves, Alivia.”
And the way Raheem says my name, I swear it’s different than the way anyone else has ever said it.
I look over my shoulder and find Cyrus still wrapped up with his two feeders. I face Raheem once again. Testing fate and the wrath of a King, I reach up with one hand and grab the front of Raheem’s shirt. We are so close together, I can feel the warmth of his body and his breath against my face.
“Do you still wish things could be different?” I ask quietly. “Now that I have become what I was born to be?”
He takes four shallow breaths before answering me. “In a way you cannot imagine.” It’s a quiet, deadly confession. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
And then he’s gone.
I hear Nial walk up and turn to see him drinking from a wine glass. I can smell the blood, though, and it’s not fresh. I have little doubt he got it from a blood bag.
“You do enjoy tempting fate, don’t you?” he says. His light blue eyes study me. There’s something about Nial that make me feel as if he sees straight through me. “It’s a dangerous thing, tempting the wrath of the man who thinks he has claim over you. It will not be met well.”
I don’t have a response for him. I feel shame. Anger. Resentment. So many emotions, and up against such a powerful foe, I don’t know what to do about them. I change the subject, instead. “Where is Rath? I haven’t seen him since I Resurrected.”
“He thought it best to give you a few days to adjust,” Nial says after he takes a sip from his glass. “I do believe he’s staying with the Sheriff. He knew that’s what you wanted.”
I nod. “I did. I asked him to leave when it happened. I suppose that means he is human, then?”
Nial shakes his head. “When it comes to Rath, I don’t think anyone knows.”
So, it wasn’t just my dull human senses that didn’t know how to classify Rath. Even my vampires don’t know what he is or what he’s fully capable of.
“How long until I normalize out, do you think?” I ask the good Dr. Jarvis.
“It took me about a week,” he says as he observes the room with me. “But I do suspect it takes others longer. I was used to being around blood all the time. I don’t crave it the same as most. I’d suspect it will take you about three weeks.”
Three weeks seems like so long.
“Do not forget you have eternity before you,” Nial says, as if he can read my mind. “Three weeks is the blink of an eye.”
“Thank you,” I say as I reach out and take his hand in mine. “You’ve always been able to put things in perspective for me.”
“Of course,” he says. He raises my hand to his lips and places a brief kiss there before re-joining the blood party.
I follow behind him, weaving in and out of Court members. I wonder how old they are. Thousands of years? Young, fresh vampires, like many in my House? Generations of vampires have been created. An entire new species.
It’s incredible, really.
And somehow, the King has kept it secret for all this time.
“The weather outside is quite frightful.” I turn to see X walking up to my side. She wears a white dress that clings to her form and reveals all too much. Her hair is styled severely and her makeup darkens her pale features. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen a curse bestowed.”
“It does make for a lovely winter wonderland, though,” I say. There’s something about X that sets me on edge. If I thought Jasmine was calculating and controlling, it’s nothing compared to the woman beside me.
“Hmm,” she says indifferently. “Best to dance carefully when dealing with curses, Lady Conrath. They have a way of stepping on your toes and cutting them off.”
It’s a grim analogy. But I suppose she’s seen plenty of evidence. She is the King’s chancellor, after all.
“I came to tell you that the King wishes to join you in your room this morning,” she says. A prickly fish instantly inflates itself in my stomach. “He’s found in the past it helps Sevan remember her past lives faster when he is around her more. You’ve been granted a bit of privacy this day, but he does grow impatient quickly when it comes to his wife.”
Without another word, she walks away, back into the crowd.
I swallow hard and feel my body go cold.
The party goes and goes. It’s a constant roll of food and blood and dancing. I waltz with Markov, jam out with Cameron, let Nial lead me in a dance I don’t have a name for, sway back and forth with Samuel.
And finally, the King catches my eye. The music shifts to something beautiful and mournful. As if sensing what is to come next, the crowd parts between us. Cyrus walks toward me, his boots tapping across the marble floor. I am drawn to him because I’m moving, too. We meet in the center of the ballroom, right over my father’s crest.
Cyrus bows deeply to me, and it only seems right that I curtsey back. “May I have this dance?” he asks as he looks up to meet my eyes.
“Of course,” I answer him. And it says something about his enchantment when a smile pulls at my lips, and it’s genuine.
Cyrus takes my right hand in his. His other hand wraps around my waist. I settle my free hand on his shoulder, feeling his strength through his jacket. When he pulls me close, I’m overwhelmed by his scent. Of cotton and sandalwood. Of the mountains and time. Cyrus even smells infinite.
The music surges and he leads me into the first step. Back and side to side. A twirl and a spin. A dip, and then he lifts me through the air.
He holds my eyes at times, searching me deep, begging for his wife to wake and return to him. Other times, he holds me close, and I feel his desperation, his reverence at my nearness.
With every step, with every touch in our dance, I almost pray that I am Sevan. That this pain Cyrus has had to endure for thousands of years will end. He’s been so alone. It’s just not fair.
“Do you feel her?” he asks quietly as the song begins to wind down. “Has she whispered to you to remember me? To remember us?”
The way he speaks, the way he whispers, I feel the words brush against my soul. They embrace my core and beg me to grant him his desire.
My eyes meet his and I bring my hand to his cheek, caressing it. “Give me some time.”
I swear his eyes will swallow my soul as he gazes at me, long and deep. Slowly, he leans forward, and I think he will kiss me. But he places his lips on my jawline instead. His hands wrap around my waist, holding me close. So intimate.
And, it’s now that my eyes turn to those around us.
Everyone is watching us, a circle formed around our dance floor. Eyes search us expectantly. Some look away in embarrassment at the King’s public display of desire. Others show excitement, hope that maybe, just maybe, after 271 years, the Queen of the vampires has returned.
The song comes to an end, and I’m almost regretful that Cyrus has to let me go. He takes just one of my hands in his, steps back, and bows to me once again. He places his lips on my hand. “Thank you for the dance,” he says quietly.
“Thank you,” I repeat, and my voice comes out sounding breathless.
He offers a smile that’s as complicated as our dance before he straightens. He does not let my hand go, however, when he turns his attention back to those that surround us.
“It is indeed a unique occasion to visit a new House,” Cyrus says, his voice commanding and booming. “While the House of Conrath has deep roots, its death occurred when Elijah was betrayed by this town. It has been reborn, and it is a grand spectacle, the circumstances under which it resurrected.”
He turns to face the other side of the room, guiding me along with him. “But rebuilding takes time. Rebuilding is difficult. And it has left our dear Alivia weak where she should be strong. This is indeed a restored House, and with it, all Royal connections are reinstated. It is time for the House of Conrath to resemble a true Royal House.”
I look over at Cyrus and see a grin slowly growing on his f
ace. And I know.
The King’s games are about to begin.
“You knew it was coming, and I will not disappoint,” he continues, even as I hear a collective breath being taken in. “This decade’s events will take place in three parts. The last two parts will be revealed later, but I will give unto you the first now.”
I swear everyone leans in just a little closer. The breaths that were drawn in before are still and held now. I feel the fear slowly creeping into the room.
“This House is small. Tiny. It’s time for it to grow.” Cyrus’ smile grows wider as he looks around the room. “It is up to you—each and every one of you,” he looks at everyone. He’s let go of my hand and slowly walks around the room. “Both of the Conrath House and my Court, to go out into the world and find other Born to join this House.”
Not just my House members. Those he brought with him, as well.
The shock shows because shouts and arguments break out.
I see Cyrus’ eyes flash red, and suddenly, his hands are around a man’s neck and a silver blade is pressed into the base of his ribcage. “I said everyone,” he hisses. And the sound, his voice, it’s animalistic. Not human. It’s a jaguar, a lion. A bear.
Cyrus shoves the man away, and he crashes into a wall, thirty feet away.
He continues his walk around the crowd. He straightens his jacket. “You all have two weeks to complete this task. If you do not find a Born willing to swear allegiance to the House of Conrath within that timeframe, do not return.” He looks around sharply to the members of the Court. “That applies to you all.”
“Your highness,” X starts, stepping forward, confusion upon her face.
“I said you all,” he hisses quietly. He continues walking the circle. “Now, I will not expect you all to go out into the big world without a good day’s rest. Sleep, recharge today. For tomorrow night, you all will depart. Good night, and good luck.”
Cyrus once again takes my hand. He leads me through the crowd and out of the ballroom.
And just like that, the games have begun.
“THAT WAS…” I STRUGGLE FOR words as we shut the door behind us. I linger by it, just as I did a few days ago. “Unexpected.”