Page 50 of House of Pawns
Raheem gives a laugh, and it contains the hint of a snort that’s kind of endearing. “Calling us all cousins is like calling cavemen cousins to Queen Elizabeth. There have been thousands of years in our gene pool and continents worth of DNA to spread from. You and I are no more closely related than you and anyone else in the Middle East.”
It’s interesting, and overwhelming to think of it that way. But a relief. Ian was a descendent of some former royal through one of the five exiled sons. It’s good not to feel like I made out with my third cousin.
“The King does have a colossal mural wall in his palace in Austria though,” Raheem continues. “It’s quite impressive. Every Royal, as far as has been known is on the wall. Hundreds, thousands, of names. Soon, if you are who we think you are, your name will be added.”
“I’d like to see that,” I say before I fully think out what seeing it would imply.
“The King’s entire palace is something to see, but somewhere you’d better hope you never have to visit,” Raheem says darkly.
“Why is that?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
“All trials and executions happen at the palace. A visit there, unless you are a member of the Court, always ends in death.”
Goosebumps flash across my skin as I imagine dark halls lined with bones, the floor rivers of blood, and dark and demented princes and princesses feeding on humans.
I shake the feeling of darkness that creeps over me and change the subject. “Have you ever met the Queen?”
Raheem looks at me carefully and I know he’s studying me for the Queen. “Just once. She died not long after that time.”
“What was she like?”
The air grows markedly cooler, the sky dimming as heavy clouds cover the sun. The temperatures have to be close to freezing now. I shiver, goosebumps flashing over my skin once again.
Raheem shrugs his jacket off and slips it over my shoulders. I thank him, enveloped in his scent. Even that is exotic.
“Sevan is…quiet. She’s very observant. She’s kind but she is also very fit to be a ruler,” he says as we continue our walk back to the House. “And she loves her husband, there is no question about that. But there’s always…a sadness in her eyes. This is not the life she wished for.”
The curses. The King cursed himself and her when he forced his vampirism on her.
“That’s so terrible,” I say, my insides sinking. “To be forced into an immortal life, only to die over and over again.”
Raheem nods his head. “There’s nothing simple about their relationship. But there is love. And when she’s alive, when they are together, the King is a different man.”
“Not so scary?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“Something like that,” Raheem replies with a smile.
By this point we’ve reached the House again. There’s a sense of…ease, that’s formed between Raheem and I, and I don’t have a logical explanation for it, considering the threat he’s posed the last month and more to me.
But we walk together, calm and casual. And just as we walk back into the cover of the garage, the first snowflake falls from the sky.
Chapter
Eighteen
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I’M PULLED from sleep by a loud knocking. My brain is foggy and I feel slightly panicked. There’s the faint taste of a nightmare on my tongue.
“The Sheriff is here for you, Alivia,” Anna says as she walks into my room just as I’m sitting up and rubbing sleep from my eyes. “He doesn’t look happy.”
My brows furrow and my brain leaps to wakefulness. Without a word, I climb out of bed and head downstairs.
“No one has touched a single person in this town,” Nial tells Luke, his accent strong and calm. “I’ve made sure that everyone has been more than fed.”
“What’s going on?” I demand as I step onto the cold marble floor. Goosebumps instantly flash over my skin. It seems we can never get the house warm enough these days.
“Can you explain why Corbin is claiming his youngest brother Tony was drained by a vampire last night, why he woke back up just a few hours later, and why there’s a trail of bloodleading from his house, straight to your front door?” Luke is seething. “I thought you said you had a handle on your House, Alivia!”
I yank open the front door, and shock pushes me back a step. First about the sheet of white that covers the ground. It’s not deep, only an inch or so, but the fact that it’s there is unexpected. And second, over the few, but very distinct drops of blood that lead from my front door and out toward the gate. They stand out like a harsh beacon.
