Page 45 of House of Pawns
He stares at me, and it feels as if he’s staring through me.
This man is gorgeous.
“Hello, Alivia Ryan, daughter of Lord Henry Conrath.”
And his voice… His accent is strong—Middle Eastern, but his voice is like butter.
I blink once, snapping myself out of my daze. My eyes flash back to his and I remind myself that this man has been spying on me.
“If you wanted to introduce yourself, you should have just knocked on the front door.” I fold my arms over my chest, probably not looking particularly regal in my pajamas, but I’ll work with what I have. I cock an eyebrow at him.
He studies me approvingly, his own brow rising slightly. “My intension was not an introduction, but intelligence.”
“I would have told you anything you wanted to know.” I stare him down, but find it isn’t an easy thing to do. His gaze is intense, and there’s something…wicked, about it. So I break contact and look at Anna. “You can let him go.”
She shakes her head. “He’s been spying. You know nothing about him. What if he tries something?”
I offer her a small, soothing smile. “I really appreciate your concern, Anna. I know I’m always safe with you around. But considering what the King wants from me, and that this manwas sent here on his behest, I think I’ll be okay. Am I right?” I look back at our visitor.
He smiles again, studying me. “I promise you no harm will come from me.”
He’s very specific about his words.
“How about we all adjourn to the dining room?” I ask of my House.
I start toward the dining room when Markov leans in close, close enough for his lips to brush my ear. “You need to carefully consider every word you say. He’s a descendent of the seventh son.”
Markov doesn’t get the opportunity to explain more, but his warning is understood.
I sit at the head of the table, the spy at the opposite end. To my right sits Rath, Nial, Lillian. Anna is down on the end, right next to the man. To my left is Samuel, Markov, and Cameron.
I have the sense that someone is missing. And it takes me a moment to realize what is causing the feeling.
Ian.
There are no moments for mourning now though, so I clear my throat and turn my eyes on the spy.
“I guess a good place to start is for you to tell us who the hell you are,” I say as I fold my arms on the table and lean forward.
He folds his own hands and mirrors my position exactly. A smile curls on his lips as he does. “My name is Raheem, and I am a member of the King’s Court.”
“The court consists of only Royal descendants of the King,” Markov says. And I am immeasurably grateful for his words. I feelat a disadvantage now, because I still know so little. But Markov is so very old. “They are those who are not House leaders, and do not reside in a House. They are often the King’s favorites.”
I look back at Raheem. “Are you a favorite of the King?”
His eyes quickly scan my House members, and suddenly I wonder: how large is the average House size? Am I laughable, a tiny drop with no one at my side at all? Or is this more than a good start?
“I am a tool of the King’s. Whether he likes me or hates me, he needs me too much for opinions to matter,” he answers. “I’ve served the King for over nine centuries. No one replaces me.”
So much for Markov being old.
“You make me think the feelings of simple needfulness go both ways,” I say as I tilt my head. “Do you serve your king out of true loyalty, or out of habit?”
Raheem chuckles and it’s a deep, low thing. “You are a gem, aren’t you, Alivia? One who says things without fear, despite her very human status.”
And as if on cue, each of my House members stiffens and many eyes flare red.
Raheem doesn’t look nervous though. He seems amused. “A human who has gained loyalty I’ve yet seen. I do applaud you.”
