Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
ISTAND THERE, ENCHANTED FOR a long moment.
I did not expect Cyrus to look so young. Or so striking.
He’s maybe twenty-six—seven in appearance. Nearly black hair that looks so thick my hands are dying to run through it. Styled so modern. A clean-shaven face reveals a sharp jawline. Proud nose and a slightly too full upper lip. And those eyes. Those eyes that have seen thousands of years.
King Cyrus is beautiful. And it takes my breath away.
My mind returning to myself, I take a small curtsey, my eyes falling away from his momentarily. “Your majesty.”
It’s so foreign, so strange, your majesty, here in the Deep South, where there has never been a king, yet it’s the most natural thing in the world. The man before me is unquestionably a King.
When my eyes meet his again, a small smile pulls on his lips. He studies me deeply, and my heart aches for him. I know he’s searching for his wife’s features, yet her face is different every time she is reborn.
“Please, come in,” I say, held captive still. I can’t look away.
He doesn’t say anything, but he does step over the threshold, never once losing my gaze. He crosses the space to me and taking my hand in his gloved one, he raises it to his lips. The skin of my hand goes electric. In fear and anticipation.
“You are lovely, Alivia Conrath,” he says. His voice is low, but also very quiet, almost as if what he said was meant to be a secret between the two of us. It’s intimate.
I feel myself blush. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
He holds my eyes for another long moment, and I take the rest of him in.
He wears black, knee high boots laced tightly.
Leather pants hug his thighs. And a leather jacket set with fine red threads and embellishments hug what are obviously well defined arms. He wears no crown, but everything about him is regal.
He stands straight, finally tearing his eyes away from me. And they go to meet my House members who have gathered in the entryway. It is only now that I realize many others have followed him inside.
I study Cyrus’ face, watching for signs that my House members are in danger. I don’t know what to expect, how soon he will inflict his notorious games upon us. They could have already begun and I just don’t know it.
There is a moment of disdain that settles into his eyes and lips. And I have to remember that five of his grandsons tried to rise against him. They would have killed him.
So he disowned them. They could have been royals. They could have Houses of their own. But he cut them off. Killed their fathers and creators. I can only imagine the hatred and anger there must have once been. And from the look in his eyes, it hasn’t completely gone away.
But the look only lingers for a moment before he puts on a slightly thin-lipped smile.
Every one of my House members, to my relief, bows to Cyrus.
“We’re very pleased to have you with us, your majesty,” Markov says. He stands regal, fit to the position I have given him. “If you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to let any of us know.”
“Well, aren’t you lot so very accommodating,” he says, releasing some of the tension, looking back at me with a smile.
“We do our best,” I say. I’m so out of my depth here. I don’t know how to act. Strong and in charge? Submissive to whom could be my long lost husband? I’m just playing it one second by second. “This is Markov, my advisor. And Anna, head of my security.”
“We noted your lights around the property,” Cyrus says with amusement. “Similar to the setup we have in Roter Himmel. Well done.”
Anna bows her head slightly in acceptance.
“And Lillian. She helps me in many ways,” I continue introducing. “Dr. Nial Jarvis often takes care of me personally, as well as keeps us fed.”
At this, the King looks over at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. This statement tells him much. But he doesn’t question, like my thundering heart is afraid he will. He turns back to my subjects.
“Samuel has been invaluable in assisting me in setting up my House,” I continue. I notice then the slight look of terror on his face.
“You look familiar,” King Cyrus says as he takes three steps toward Samuel. “We’ve met before.”
Samuel swallows quickly, though he tries very hard to keep a stern, composed expression. “Once, about sixteen years ago.”
A smile cracks on Cyrus’ face. “Ah yes. You are that Kask fellow’s son.
I remember you from the last time I visited this little town.
” He chuckles, seeming to remember what he did to Samuel and Christian’s father.
Put him up against two dozen armed humans and made them fight to the death. The Kasks’ father did not survive.
“Yes,” Samuel responds, a hardness in his voice that sends my pulse skyrocketing.
I realize then how very protective and fond I’ve become of my family. The same thoughts keep resounding in my head, over and over: please don’t hurt any of them.
Over the past two months, I’ve grown to love each and every one of them in their own unique way.
Cyrus doesn’t anger over Samuel’s obvious show of disgust. He simply smiles at him in humor. And I see my first glimpse of the darkness that resides inside of the King.
“And this is Cameron,” I move on, hoping to relieve some of the tension that grows thick in the air and my blood. “He picks me up when I am feeling low.”
Cyrus finally tears his eyes away from Samuel and they flick over to Cameron. “Now, that is an important job indeed. Every Royal needs their court jester.”
“Cameron is not just a mockery and laughs to me,” I defend him in a surprising moment of boldness. “He is my friend.”
Cyrus stops just before Cameron and puts his hands on his shoulders. The look on Cameron’s face is very wary, but not near as afraid as I think he should feel. “And that is an even more important job. A true friend is a rare thing indeed. Are you a true friend, my very young man?”
Cameron pulls his head back just slightly, his eyes studying Cyrus’ every move. “Yeah.”
“You don’t sound so sure about that answer.” Cyrus’ voice grows low and serious.
“Yes, sir,” Cameron says. “Alivia and me, we’re tight.”
And it’s so out of place, saying we’re “tight” in the presence of a King, that it cracks a little smile on my face.
Cyrus looks over his shoulder at me, again raising an eyebrow slightly. “You’re ‘tight?’” he questions in amusement.
I press my lips tightly together, fighting another smile, and nod in agreement.
A small chuckle bubbles up from the King’s chest. Quickly it develops into a full-bellied laugh.
The small crew that followed him into the House joins him.
My House members don’t seem to know what to do.
Cameron forces a laugh with the King, who finally lets him go.
Samuel has hints of a forced smile. But everyone else is stony faced.
“Ah,” the King says in a loud sigh. “I must say, it is refreshing being in a young House again. Everyone else has gotten so old and stuffy.”
No one seems to know if they should laugh, there’s too much fear and tension in the room for anyone to really be genuine.
“Your majesty,” a voice says with ease.
We all look to find X and Rath standing in the hallway. Rath is calm and composed as ever, X calculated and prepared. It’s only now that I realize Raheem has been nowhere to be seen. It makes my chest hurt.
“If you all are ready, we’ve made the dining room ready for all of you,” Rath says. “Dinner is served.”
“Excellent,” King Cyrus says as he claps his hands. “I am famished.”
He extends an arm out to me, which I take hesitantly. But still, I manage to offer him a small smile and walk by his side into the formal dining room.
A great feast is spread on the enormous dining table that has only been used less than a dozen times since I came to own this house.
Who prepared the food, and where it came from is a mystery.
The staff is gone. I didn’t have any part in it.
I highly doubt X is the cooking type. It’s as if it appeared out of thin air.
Almost lovingly, Cyrus pulls my chair out from the table for me. There’s tenderness, a hopefulness in his eyes when we meet for a moment.
I can’t imagine the feelings he must be going through right now. Am I her? Will I be his wife, finally found after more than two and a half centuries of being gone?
Cyrus takes his place at the head of the table, me just to his right side. My House members sit beside me, Markov directly at my side. The King’s Court members sit on the opposite side, each of them evaluating us, like we evaluate them.
There are eight members that arrived with Cyrus, in addition to the three that arrived earlier in the night. Three women, five men. I’m sure some of them are body guards, some advisors. And all of them full-blooded Royals.
“So tell me about your town,” Cyrus says as he begins filling his plate, and mine as well. “Silent Bend, is it called?”
“Correct,” I say. “It’s a nice little town, I suppose. I’m really not that engrained yet. I’ve only lived here for seven months.”
The King makes an acknowledging noise as he ladles gravy over my mashed potatoes. “Raheem told me about that. Speaking of which, where is he?”
I look around, as if he should magically appear. “I haven’t seen him since just before you arrived.”
“Raheem!” Cyrus bellows. And it’s a sound so powerful, so authoritative, it stills everyone at the table.
One second later, Raheem appears in the doorway and casually, he strolls inside and takes a seat at the last open one.
Cyrus gives him a deep glare, but Raheem does not look up.
I remember what Raheem said, that they needed each other, but didn’t necessarily like each other.
If only Cyrus knew of Raheem’s confessions.
“I’m sorry, my dear, please continue,” Cyrus says with only the slightest hint of tightness in his voice.
“Um,” I stutter, thrown off by the whiplash conversation. “Well, it’s a small town. Everyone seems to have deep roots.”