51. Killian
KILLIAN
How embarrassing.
“They should be arriving any moment,” Killian explained to Kohen, wiping the sweat off his brow. Izara looked over her shoulder, as she had for the past hour.
“What is the deal with those two?” Kohen sipped from his goblet, unimpressed. “Are they close in age?”
Killian’s heart hammered against his ribs, stealing his breath. Killian bit the inside of his cheek, hating the lies spilling from him, “They have always been close growing up.”
“Explains the carrot toss,” Kohen said, chuckling.
Killian grunted. “What?”
Carrot toss?
Kohen waved his hand, conversing with another guest.
Where the hell is Riggs? He knows better.
Killian tapped his foot, waiting. Oliver appeared from wherever he disappeared off to, his arm draping over Izara. Oliver whispered in her ear, his finger skimming over her breast.
Killian grimaced, disgust rolling deep through his gut. He observed the siblings, his face scrunching. Did Oliver drink too much?
Izara moaned. She arched her back in her chair, flicking her gaze to her brother, stroking his jaw while Oliver’s thumb brushed over her lip. They wiggled their noses together before Oliver’s tongue slid across her mouth, licking down her chin, her neck.
Killian’s face flushed. He cleared his throat, looking to Kohen.
“Children, not in front of our guests,” Kohen warned Izara and Oliver, his tone firm.
“Apologies, Mr. Whitlock. Please forgive their manners.” He twisted the ends of his mustache.
“Perhaps Riggs is feeling unwell, and he needs assistance.” He motioned for a servant, whispering in her ear before she strode toward the back, toward the privy.
Shit. Killian gulped.
The servant stopped, her boots scuffing the tile. “Mr. Whitlock, I was just coming to check on you.” She bowed her head. “Glad to know you are well.”
Killian turned, fixing his gaze on his brother, the pressure in his chest easing.
Oh, thank fuck.
Riggs' hair swept over his forehead, his face taut. “Apologies. I must have heat stroke,” he said, taking his seat next to Izara, and not even a minute later, Esemeray appeared, brushing Killian’s arm as she slid into her seat.
If they couldn’t be more obvious.
“Long time to see,” Killian murmured. “You almost missed the dessert.” A strange, comforting relief filled his chest at the sight of Esemeray, especially after what he had just witnessed with the siblings.
Killian arched his brow, noticing she wasn’t wearing her veil.
He whispered, “You are not fully dressed, Sophie?”
Esemeray’s eyes widened, her fingers floating toward her cheek. “I must have forgotten it.”
“Don’t stress,” Killian assured her. He could only hope Riggs and her were safe.
She exhaled a long breath, her shoulders curling inward. “What’s for dessert?” Esemeray peered over the table, humming. “What are those?” she asked, pointing at the creme puff pastries.
Along the table were an array of desserts. Killian mused, “Those are Starfall dust balls.”
“They are so fluffy,” she said, her eyes gleaming along the array of platters.
He assessed Esemeray, curious to what changed. He had seen the forced kiss between his brother and Izara. Knew Esemeray had been upset about it. Even if he fully didn’t agree with their relationship. He’d rather not witness the poor girl heartbroken, especially bullshit caused by his own brother.
“Are you better?” Killian wondered, offering her a small, empathic smile.
Esemeray nodded. “Better.” She returned the smile. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
Killian reached for a plate of pastries, setting them in front of Esemeray. “Try one. I think you will enjoy them.”
She placed one in her mouth, powder coating her lips. Esemeray moaned into the bite, reaching for another, and closed her eyes devouring it whole, creme spilling down her chin.
“Allow me.” Killian wiped her face with his napkin.
Esemeray’s cheeks turned scarlet, stealing the cloth from his hands. “Thank you, Killian.”
“Now that all of my guests have returned, I would like to announce tonight’s special event.” Kohen’s voice echoed through the grand space. The servants’ all glanced at one another, their faces all ashen.
The guests watched Kohen with eager eyes, waiting for his proposal.
Kohen smiled, clasping his hands. “Tonight, I will host our traditional family game.”
Izara stood from her chair, clapping her hands.
“Yes, daddy. I am beyond excited.” She gripped Riggs' shoulder.
“You and I are partners.” Riggs nodded, glancing toward Esemeray, his cheeks turning crimson.
Esemeray cleared her throat, fidgeting with the napkin over her waist. Kohen looked between them, frowning.
Killian tossed Riggs a warning glare.
Kohen’s growing suspicious.
Killian already had to fabricate a childhood story with their cousin “Sophie.” He had even made up a rare disability to explain her spasms, and why she had left so abruptly. Certain Mayfire disease wasn’t even a real sickness. He had said the first thing that came to mind.
Killian nudged Esemeray, stealing her eye contact away from Riggs. “Would you like to be my partner?”
“For?” Esemeray blinked.
“The game,” Killian said, his lips tight.
Oliver butt in, leaning over the table. Too close for Killian’s liking, he clenched his teeth. Oliver purred, “Sophie, if you would like to win, I’d be honored to be your partner.”
“We are together, Oliver,” Killian said, teeth grinding. “It is for the best.” Oliver nodded, sliding back into his seat.
Killian shifted in his chair, wishing the incest creep would sit elsewhere.
“Everybody follow me.” Kohen stood, motioning toward the corridor.
Let the games begin.
Fifteen bodies strolled down the hall, accompanied by guards and servants. Killian hadn’t missed how many times Riggs peeked over his shoulder to look at Esemeray or how many times they shared smiles to one another.
It seems that Riggs and the princess are better now. No more miscommunication. Good. He just hoped they would stop gazing at one another. They were being too obvious, and Killian was certain Kohen had seen every stolen glance.
Kohen pushed open bronze doors, and strolled in.
Killian hummed, taking in the space. It looked to be a room of study, or perhaps Kohen’s game room.
Explained all chess tables and chairs. But something far more interesting was held in this room.
The clay molds of insects, and desert roses both perched on their very own stage secured in a case.
Killian pulled his hands behind his back, surveying the glass dome above them.
Killian’s breath caught. Stars clustered throughout the sky, and the crescent orange moon was perched high, shining its luminance across the gold glinted room.
“Everybody take a seat, and I will explain the rules,” Kohen said, leaning on the fireplace mantel, puffing on a cigar.
Killian and Esemeray sank into the emerald leather couch across from Riggs and Izara. The rest of the guests scattered throughout the room.
“My grandfather,” Kohen started, pointing at a portrait hung above a shelf of an older man wearing a red-and-white striped suit, “had created this game.” Smoke curled through the air with every word. “It is a murder mystery game. We enjoy those, right?”
“Yes!” Everybody other than Killian, Riggs and Esemeray, roared. They kept quiet, listening intently to the rules.
“You must pick a partner.” Kohen motioned to everybody in the room. “You will work together to figure out who murdered our dear servant.”
Esemeray’s limbs locked beside him. “What sort of game is this?”
Killian shrugged.
“Did someone really die?—”
“Please do not talk, Sophie, it implies you are cheating the game,” Kohen warned.
Esemeray closed her lips, interlacing her hands over her waist.
Izara snickered, gripping Riggs' knee, and glaring daggers at Esemeray.
Killian shifted in his seat, sprawling his legs wide, and draped his arm behind Esemeray. The way Izara pinned her with distaste made him think she suspected something. Killian swallowed hard. He hoped not. Izara was psychotic.
“I will give you the first clue.” Kohen chuckled. “I am wearing white drapes, I have red hair, and my killer left me laying in the foyer.” Kohen snapped his fingers. “Before the game starts, does anyone have questions?”
Killian raised his hand. “Does the killer already know who they are?”
Kohen nodded. “The killer may very well be dead.” He motioned around the room. “You have free rein of the dining hall and the foyer. There will be clues scattered throughout. We will meet in my grandfather’s study in one hour.”
Seems too easy.