But I cut Alivia off. “It’s fine,” I say around my bite, chewing and speaking at the same time. I feel my Logan-esque defenses rising, the bitter and the bold gathering inside of me.
“I was placed with a family in Greendale,” I say. “I don’t know how close you lived to there when you…had me.”
“A smaller town, about an hour from there,” she says, still tense and defensive.
I nod. “My parents names are Gemma and Ethan Pierce. They couldn’t have kids of their own. I lived in a nice, red brick house in a quiet family neighborhood my entire life.” I stab my fork into a strawberry and pop it into my mouth. “When I was five, my parents adopted my brother, Eshan. He was one. It was a pretty normal childhood.”
I look over at Rath, who chews slowly, watching my face the entire time.
“Rath stepped into my life in a public way when I was fourteen,” I continue the condensed story of my entire life, the one this woman was never a part of. “He became friends with my parents, and soon he was just always there. Like an uncle and a friend.”
I still can’t cope with that. The history between us, the family dinners, the laughs at the end of the driveway. The time he helped me study for a US history test. How proud he was when I got my degree.
But I now realize I never really knew anything about him. Who he was? Where he came from? Why he was always there?
“I graduated from high school,” I suddenly continue, snapping my eyes back to Alivia. “Then I went to college.”
“You have a degree already?” she asks. Her voice is so timid.
I realize she’s terrified.
I can’t blame her.
There’s a lot of aspects about this that are so heavy.
I nod. “Just an associates, which was all I needed for what I went into.”
“Which is?” she encourages.
I swallow once.
She knows all of this.
Surely she knows all of this.
Rath has been spying on me my entire life and reporting back to her.
“Mortuary science,” I say in a hard voice. My grip on my fork tightens, and instantly it bends to the shape of my fingers.
All eyes snap to it. I release it, and it collapses to the table. It makes a loud clatter, one that rings throughout this entire, huge house.
“I really loved my job,” I say quietly. I think back, to the quiet moments in the preparation room. Just me and the dead. They were such good listeners. They all had such great life stories. “I really wanted to work there for a long time.”
A quiet, weighted moment follows.
For a moment, I finally get a second to mourn.
My human life. The life I’d worked so hard for.
Gone.
Over.
“I’m so sorry,” Alivia says, reaching over once more and placing her hand on mine.
I slide my hand back, tucking it into my lap under the table.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Grateful for the momentary distraction and release of all this…pressure building inside of me, I pull it out.
I just wanted you to know that I have been thinking about you all night.
And then a second message. How are you?
Cyrus.
My heart flutters and I let my eyes slide closed for a moment.
Our moments together, if only connected through this phone, come rushing back to me. The connection I felt. The comfort in hearing his voice. The memories that washed over me. The amount of time I knew he’d spent looking for me. Searching.
My jaw tightens, heat sparks in my chest.
I let my eyes slide open.
Falling on Alivia Ryan Conrath.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. From the House of Valdez. From Rath. From Cyrus.”
The cold in my voice widens Alivia’s eyes. She stops breathing and leans back in her chair, her fingers curling into tight fists.
“I heard you knew nothing about your heritage, just like me,” I say. That familiar acid rises in my blood. It takes over, turning my vision fuzzy and gray. “But that once you knew your place, you rose to the occasion.”
I wrap my hand around the glass of blood. My fingers tighten, and there’s a single popping sound as the glass cracks just a tiny bit.
I raise it to my lips, taking a sip.
I enjoy the taste of it as it slides over my tongue. I enjoy the cooling sensation as it slips down my throat. The utter satisfaction as it hits my stomach.
“I haven’t heard details,” I continue. “But there are certainly legends of your…plots to gain followers. You knew how to read people, how to work them to get what you want.”
“Logan-” she begins to defend.
But I continue on.
“I heard you actually married the man who everyone says broke your heart and pushed you to do some very questionable things. You must be a very forgiving person.”
“Logan,” Rath growls low and dark.
“I guess it runs in our blood,” I say. “You forgave Ian Ward, and I keep forgiving Cyrus. The only difference is, Cyrus never turned his back on me.”
“You have no idea what Ian has been through,” Alivia says, her voice sparking with defense and anger. “What his family put him through. Ian is a good man.”
My eyes harden, just as my heart does. “And what about you, Alivia? Is someone who toys with someone else’s heart to console their own broken one a good person? Is someone who kisses a man she’s leading on, and could have gotten him killed, a good person?”
Her face is stunned. Frozen in a mask of horror and shock.
“Is someone who left me in the dark, only to let my life be cut short because a member of the House of Valdez recognized me, you, and dragged me into this mess, a good person? Is a person who asks someone to live a life of lies for sixteen years,” I wave a hand in Rath’s direction, “a good person?”
Alivia suddenly stands and slaps her hands down on the table. Her eyes ignite red, her expression livid. “Well, this certainly is not how I imagined this moment. You do not know me, Logan. Others can tell the story however they like. But you don’t know what me, or my husband, have been through, and the battles we’ve had to fight to carve out this life for us, and everyone around us. How dare you judge me, us, when you don’t really know anything.”
“I know that I have never seen Cyrus speak with the hardness he does when he talks about you, Alivia,” I growl as I, too, stand, staring at this woman across the table. “Cyrus has had many, many enemies over the years, but none have left scars like you have.”
She’s silent for a moment. I see it in her eyes, she replays whatever happened between the two of them, recalling their past that I really don’t want to know anything about.
But they regain their focus, finding me in front of her once more.
“You’re right,” she says. “I made mistakes. I wasn’t kind or careful with Cyrus. I did make him believe. I made him hope. But the King is not innocent in any of this, either.”
My blood heats to a boiling point. I feel my fangs lengthen just slightly. “What did he ever do to you?” I’m not quite yelling, but almost.
Rath’s hand suddenly darts out, gripping mine.
I look over at him. There’s darkness in his eyes. A warning. The truth. He shakes his head just slightly.
Alivia straightens. With cold hardness in her eyes, she reaches up to the neckline of her shirt. She tugs it down, exposing her chest a bit.
She reveals a scar there.
Not just a scar. A brand.
The skin is red and rippled. But I see it there, clear as day. The shape of a crest, a raven set at the center. The exact same as the crest in Rath’s ring.
“It’s not just what he did to me,” she says. “But to every member of the House of Conrath.”
My breathing comes out hard. I’m wired. I’m an explosive about to set off. A warrior ready to fight to the death over the man I love.
I’m capable of a lot right now. A lot of danger. A lot of blood.
So I do the only safe thing.
I walk away.
But this is not my House. This is not my territory.
I don’t know anyone here. I don’t know anything about this town. I don’t know anything about this entire side of the country.
So I go to the only familiar thing for thousands of miles.
I walk to Eshan’s room, and close the door behind me.
Chapter 12