For the past twenty years of my life, I have wondered. What my birth parents were like. Who I looked like more. Where they were.
And now I could tap that screen right now, and in a few seconds I could speak to the woman who gave birth to me.
I turn the screen off, and look around, my heart racing.
Not yet.
Someday.
But not today.
I grab my bag, and walk down the stairs.
The house is in a state of calming chaos. Those from the House of Valdez that came here as security are now standing around, waiting to depart. Mina walks in and out of the house, wearing those special sunglasses, carrying bags. Fredrick paces back and forth, speaking on the phone.
But Cyrus stands by the front door.
I very nearly can’t handle the pain in his eyes when I look at him. It nearly breaks me, makes me say I’ll go with him, return to our home.
But I can’t.
He watches me as I walk across the foyer toward him, my bag in hand. He looks me up and down, his gaze so penetrating I nearly feel relieved. Surely he can see down to my heart and understand why I must do what I am doing.
But that pain. It tells me he doesn’t.
“Why?” he asks when I stop before him.
“Do you not understand? Even a little?” I ask, begging him to try. I set my bag down, looking up into his eyes.
His lip trembles. His nostrils flare just slightly. His hands are rolled into fists.
“Please,” he says. His voice quivers. “Just come home with me. I swear I will make it all better.”
Splinter.
He breaks me. Fractures me.
I’m a ruin because of this man.
“No,” I say, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Not yet.”
He reaches for my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. A single tear drips onto my skin as he kisses it. “You will come back though?”
He looks up into my eyes for the truthful answer.
“I promise.” And my defense crumbles slightly as I take another half a step forward. I place a hand on his cheek. “I promise, im yndmisht srtov.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing out another tear. He presses his lips to my palm and then lets it go, standing straight.
“I shall return home and wait then,” he says, gathering himself. “We will do our best to keep things quiet, but I suspect it won’t be long before the entire world knows of your return. Until then, if you need anything, please…” There’s that look in his eyes. The one that says he will turn the world inside out for me. And it makes this even harder. “Until then, this house is yours to use as you need. Everything in it is yours.”
I offer him a sad little smile. “Thank you,” I say. “Be safe, Cyrus.”
He just stares at me, and I hate knowing how much pain I am causing him right now.
So I stoop, picking up my bag. The members of the House of Valdez scramble forward, taking it from me.
And I can’t look back as I walk out the front door after slipping on my sunshades. Because if I do, I won’t really be able to leave.
The guards load my bag into Cyrus’ black sports car. I pull the keys out of my purse and watch as the guards load into their own vehicles. I drop into the drivers seat and start the engine.
Backing out, I make myself not look at the front door where I know Cyrus is watching. I point the nose of the car down the driveway and pull out to the main road.
Using voice commands, I set the navigation to the MetroCosmo in Las Vegas. Through the Colorado heat, I start on my way to Nevada.
I never would have texted or called while driving as a human. But my vampire senses could drive this car all the way to Vegas and not have to look at the road. So with my eyes on my phone, I scroll through the directory Fredrick sent me. I stop when I see House O’Rourke and hit call.
It rings five times before someone answers.
“Siobhan,” I say, goose bumps flashing over my arms. In some ways sliding back into my old life is like swimming through tar. In others, it’s like putting on a familiar old sweater. “It’s Sevan. I need to talk to Larkin.”
I’m met with silence for a very long moment. I consider explaining. Telling her where I am. But Cyrus is right: we do need to be careful. I’ve been in these politics long enough to know it isn’t wise to go spouting my whereabouts to every Royal in the world.
“Give me just a minute to find him,” she squeaks out.
Indeed, a minute later, I hear the sound of the phone rustling. And then a deep, smooth voice comes through from around the world.
“Is it true?” he says.
“Yes,” I say over the speakerphone. “Just twenty-four hours ago. I need your help.”
I can imagine him. The serious look on his dark face. The danger in his eyes. “Anything, my queen.”
My skin tingles at his address. “I need you to meet me at the House of Valdez in eleven hours. Can you make it?”
This is where Sevan and Logan clash. Because one side of my brain thinks the request is absolutely ludicrous. Larkin is with the House O’Rourke, in Ireland. Last time I walked the earth, it would have taken weeks of sailing across the ocean and then a transcontinental trek to reach me in Las Vegas.
But Logan has flown thousands of miles. She knows how fast Cyrus reached Greendale just a month ago from Austria.
“Give me twelve and I will be there,” Larkin says.
“Done,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”
Chapter 4
The feeling of his hands on my shoulders was the first thing that felt familiar. The warmth of them. The size. The strength held in their grasp. And the edge of danger I felt from them.
“Take your pick,” he had whispered in my ear.
Warily, I looked over my shoulder at his face.
For years—my whole life—I had known this day was coming. It had been planned, scheduled to occur on my eighteenth birthday. And now, four days later, here I stood, just sixty seconds after finally rising from the acid of Resurrection and opening my eyes.
“You can take any of them,” the King breathed in my ear.
Instantly the hunger was controlling, and I rushed forward, to the line of humans in the great ballroom. The woman’s eyes widened a bit, a moment of fear before she met her end as my fangs sank into her neck and I drank her dry.
When I’d satisfied my thirst, I turned, and looked at the crowd that waited behind me.
There was the King. Whose rule we had lived under my entire life. There was my father, Lord Bastian. My mother was a woman who had come and then gone once I was weaned from her breast.
There were other members of the Court. Important people. Some I had known for as long as I could remember. Others who were so close to the king I was seeing them now for the very first time.
“How do you feel, Edith?” my father asked.
I looked at him. At his expectant face, so hopeful. So desperate to be the one to produce the offspring who would finally awaken. “I…” I shook my head. I wanted to take a step back. To retreat into the dark corners of the castle and go back to being one of a dozen human children in Roter Himmel, looked over until their time came. But all eyes were on me. “I don’t remember anything.”
The King stepped forward. The look in his eyes was dark and complicated. “It takes time, my dear.” Slowly, he crossed to me, where the woman laid dead at my feet. The humans still stood lined up, as if waiting to see if the urge for more would strike me. Every one of them waited willingly for me to kill them. “Over the course of the next few weeks, you are a guest at the castle. I’d very much like to get to know you, Lady Edith. And I hope you will not shy away from getting to know me.”
He placed a hand at the small of my back, guiding me toward the doorway at the edge of the ballroom.
Scared, so scared and unsure and absolutely overwhelmed, I looked back at my father.
There was a gleam in his eyes, something pleased, and he nodded encouragingly.
I swallowed once, telling myself to be brave, and walked through the doors, to a new place, a new life, side by side with King Cyrus.
* * *