Page 75 of House of Pawns
He’s maybe twenty-six—seven in appearance. Nearly black hair that looks so thick my hands are dying to run through it. Styled so modern. A clean-shaven face reveals a sharp jawline. Proud nose and a slightly too full upper lip. And those eyes. Those eyes that have seen thousands of years.
King Cyrus is beautiful. And it takes my breath away.
My mind returning to myself, I take a small curtsey, my eyes falling away from his momentarily. “Your majesty.”
It’s so foreign, so strange,your majesty, here in the Deep South, where there has never been a king, yet it’s the most natural thing in the world. The man before me is unquestionably a King.
When my eyes meet his again, a small smile pulls on his lips. He studies me deeply, and my heart aches for him. I knowhe’s searching for his wife’s features, yet her face is different every time she is reborn.
“Please, come in,” I say, held captive still. I can’t look away.
He doesn’t say anything, but he does step over the threshold, never once losing my gaze. He crosses the space to me and taking my hand in his gloved one, he raises it to his lips. The skin of my hand goes electric. In fear and anticipation.
“You are lovely, Alivia Conrath,” he says. His voice is low, but also very quiet, almost as if what he said was meant to be a secret between the two of us. It’s intimate.
I feel myself blush. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
He holds my eyes for another long moment, and I take the rest of him in. He wears black, knee high boots laced tightly. Leather pants hug his thighs. And a leather jacket set with fine red threads and embellishments hug what are obviously well defined arms. He wears no crown, but everything about him is regal.
He stands straight, finally tearing his eyes away from me. And they go to meet my House members who have gathered in the entryway. It is only now that I realize many others have followed him inside.
I study Cyrus’ face, watching for signs that my House members are in danger. I don’t know what to expect, how soon he will inflict his notorious games upon us. They could have already begun and I just don’t know it.
There is a moment of disdain that settles into his eyes and lips. And I have to remember that five of his grandsons tried to rise against him. They would have killed him.
So he disowned them. They could have been royals. They could have Houses of their own. But he cut them off. Killed their fathers and creators. I can only imagine thehatred and anger there must have once been. And from the look in his eyes, it hasn’t completely gone away.
But the look only lingers for a moment before he puts on a slightly thin-lipped smile.
Every one of my House members, to my relief, bows to Cyrus.
“We’re very pleased to have you with us, your majesty,” Markov says. He stands regal, fit to the position I have given him. “If you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to let any of us know.”
“Well, aren’t you lot so very accommodating,” he says, releasing some of the tension, looking back at me with a smile.
“We do our best,” I say. I’m so out of my depth here. I don’t know how to act. Strong and in charge? Submissive to whom could be my long lost husband? I’m just playing it one second by second. “This is Markov, my advisor. And Anna, head of my security.”
“We noted your lights around the property,” Cyrus says with amusement. “Similar to the setup we have inRoter Himmel. Well done.”
Anna bows her head slightly in acceptance.
“And Lillian. She helps me in many ways,” I continue introducing. “Dr. Nial Jarvis often takes care of me personally, as well as keeps us fed.”
At this, the King looks over at me with a slightly raised eyebrow. This statement tells him much. But he doesn’t question, like my thundering heart is afraid he will. He turns back to my subjects.
“Samuel has been invaluable in assisting me in setting up my House,” I continue. I notice then the slight look of terror on his face.
“You look familiar,” King Cyrus says as he takes three steps toward Samuel. “We’ve met before.”
Samuel swallows quickly, though he tries very hard to keep a stern, composed expression. “Once, about sixteen years ago.”
A smile cracks on Cyrus’ face. “Ah yes. You are that Kask fellow’s son. I remember you from the last time I visited this little town.” He chuckles, seeming to remember what he did to Samuel and Christian’s father. Put him up against two dozen armed humans and made them fight to the death. The Kasks’ father did not survive.
“Yes,” Samuel responds, a hardness in his voice that sends my pulse skyrocketing.
I realize then how very protective and fond I’ve become of my family. The same thoughts keep resounding in my head, over and over:please don’t hurt any of them.
Over the past two months, I’ve grown to love each and every one of them in their own unique way.
