House of Judges (House of Royals Book 4) (5 page)

THEY DO INDEED COME TO get me in exactly one hour. The same two guards chain my wrists and ankles. I’m pretty sure it’s all a mental game because surely, I could break them with just a few good yanks. But it would be foolish to fight them. I’m sure either of them would yank my heart from my chest without hesitation if I struggled.

Up two floors and down a long hall. It opens up to reveal a colossal room. A huge, massive table is set up, set in the shape of a square. The room is empty except for a few guards stationed at each of the entrances.

“Here,” the female guard says, sitting me in a chair in the middle of one of the square’s legs. She un-cuffs my bonds. “Don’t try anything. You’ll be staked before you can move a meter.”

I glance back at her. Her fangs are extended, her eyes glowing red with black veins on her face. And in her hands, she holds a crossbow with a wooden stake set and ready.

“Deal,” I say.

The sound of feet on stone draws my eyes to the hallway once more, and a flock of bodies begins crowding into the room.

Godrick, Judith, Serge, and Raheem. A dozen other faces I do not recognize. Then Christian and Markov. A moment later, Ian. A few others. And finally, the judges. Lillian, who can’t seem to quite look me in the eye. Elle, who is always unreadable. The two men I do not know. And finally, last of all, Cyrus.

“Welcome everyone,” he says with false cheerfulness as everyone fills in around the table. But no one is allowed to sit beside me. The judges sit directly across, facing me, and everyone else fills in on the sides to my left or right. “Thank you, so much, for being here and being witness to this rare occurrence of treason. Why, the last time someone tried to kill me, the entire House of Greenland had to be executed!” He laughs at this, as if truly enjoying the replay going on in his head.

Cyrus stands at the head of the table, his fingertips resting on the wooden surface. “The trial will take time. We must be certain that we have all the pieces, that those who believe they have something of value to add have said their piece. So today, we only embark on the first leg of this voyage. Alivia—Lady Conrath—will give her statement. Her defense. She will answer the questions of the judges. But first,” he says as he claps his hands. Suddenly, the room is filled with servants carrying dishes. “We eat.”

The tables are stocked quickly. Gleaming metal dishes are placed before everyone, except me. Smells of roast and vegetables and bread float into the air and my stomach growls fiercely.

Plates are set before everyone and they do not hesitate in dishing up.

My mouth waters at the scent of everything. It’s been so long since I ate a proper meal. When looking at myself in the mirror earlier, I guessed I’ve lost at least fifteen pounds, fifteen that I didn’t really have to lose in the first place.

Vampires have to eat, just as humans do. But starvation won’t kill us.

“I suppose,” Cyrus says as he butters a roll, “since you are yet an infant in our world, and this is your first visit to Court, introductions should be made.” He indicates the vampire to his right. “This is my grandson, Malachi, or as he is commonly referred to, the seventh son. And this,” he indicates the other, “is Dorian, the third son. Of whom you are a descendent.”

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you,” I say, bowing my head, “but under these extreme circumstances, I don’t think I’m leaving the best impression.”

“She’s a Conrath, alright,” Dorian says, a small smile crooking his lips. “Sounds just like Elijah; looks just like her father.”

“No one has doubted her being a Conrath,” Markov speaks up. “Very few have questioned her birthright.”

“Royal lineage and rights or not,” a woman from the crowd says. “Treason is treason.”

I can barely concentrate on the conversation being had. I’m so hungry. My eyes dart around the table, drooling over those sautéed mushrooms. Dying for a taste of that buttered asparagus.

Suddenly, Ian stands and stalks over to me. To my great relief, he has a plate in his hand, filled with different foods. He sets it down in front of me.

“And who gave you permission to do so?” X demands, practically spitting fire.

I don’t wait for someone to rip the plate away; I’m digging in with my hands, ravenous.

“You expect her to defend herself when she can barely think straight from starvation?” Ian manages to defend me in a calm manor. “You let her rot with nothing for a month and then expect her to perform in front of a jury? Carefully, your royalnesses. You’re starting to look like you don’t want this to be fair, at all.”

“You will-”

“Now, now,” Dorian interrupts X. “This man has been cleared of any crime, released from prison. His presence here makes him a guest. Perhaps we will treat him as one.”

At once, she gains her composure back, throwing her hair over her shoulder, her eyes dropping to the table in silence. She may be the King’s chancellor, but she was just put in her place.

“Before we begin,” Cyrus moves on, “I must warn you all. Lady Conrath here is quite the actress. She, for some time during my visit to the States, made me believe she truly was Sevan, our beloved queen, returned to me after so long. While in the shadows, she was spending some very intimate time with our most decorated spy. I had no idea for some time. She hid her true feelings well. So please, let us keep that in mind as she tells us her tales.”

I feel the eyes burn into me, see them shift to Raheem. Hear the intake of breath and the mutterings. I’m tempted to look at him, but I just can’t.

“It’s true,” I say as I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Raheem and I have…had feelings for each other. And it’s true that I toyed with Cyrus. I was suffering from a broken heart, and I needed to hurt someone in return.” My voice drops and my eyes fall from the crowd momentarily. “And, I think in the end I hurt two…” I shake my head, feeling sick over myself. “Three people.”

I swallow hard, squaring my shoulders. My messed up love life is not the reason we are here. I need to focus. “But the point is that, having lost everything so quickly, having everything ripped away, has made me realize I am just one being and that control is a relative thing. It has made me realize that I own nothing but the truth.”

The chair scrapes against the stone floor as I stand, pushing it back from the table. The chains that prove me prisoner clang against the table, sounding through the quiet room. “My father had a reputation. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. I know almost nothing about him, know nothing of his past, really, other than that he is a descendant of Dorian. But something in his past happened that made him turn his back on the monarchy and our system. You all have been around long enough, I’m sure you know what I am oblivious to.”

I search their eyes at this statement. And see it there. They do know. Cyrus. Dorian. X. Probably others. They know so much more about Henry Conrath than I.

It’s not fair.

I’m a girl who never knew her father.

“When my uncle was killed in 1875, leadership of the House of Silent Bend should have fallen to Henry’s shoulders. But he refused. So the house fell into shame. Disgrace.”

I swallow, shame and regret crawling up my throat.

Somehow, Rath plays into all of this. How old he is, I have no idea, but I’m sure he’s seen so much. Advised my father, stood at his side.

And now, I’ve chased him away.

“I was born to a single mother twenty-three years ago,” I say. At the memories of her, of our simple life, my lip threatens to quiver for a moment. But my vampire body has far more control than that. “I lived in Colorado. For those not familiar with the United States, that’s most of the way across the country from Silent Bend. My mother always told me that we were strong women, that we could do anything without a man. That my father wasn’t real, and that we were all each other needed.”

This does prick emotion at the back of my eyes. Because she taught me to be strong. But she was also wrong. I needed my father, and I never even knew it until I found him, only it was too late. He was already dead.

“I never even knew his name,” I say quietly. The room around me is dead silent. They each hold onto my story with baited breath. “Not until a will showed up in my mailbox and I got a call from his attorney the next day saying I was his heir.

“I showed up at his house, and his staff wouldn’t even look me in the eye,” I say. “They seemed to be afraid of me, and I didn’t understand why. I started talking to people in town, and they seemed to hate me when they found out who my father was.”

I take a deep breath. This is emotionally draining, and I’m only at the very beginning. “I was attacked by a Bitten the very first day I left my house,” I continue the tale. “I didn’t understand what was happening. Why someone would bite me. Why I couldn’t move or scream. I didn’t believe any of this was real.”

Oh, to go back to that day. To not have left my house. To have just gone back to Colorado after two days in Mississippi. How different my life would be right now.

I look over at Ian because I can’t tell the rest of this story without involving him. Everything changed that night he intended to kill me.

“Ian knew everything,” I say as I hold his eyes. And he stares deeply back at me. There it all is, there in his eyes. So much history in such a short amount of time. “He saved me from the Bitten, but knew it should have been too late for me. He was going to kill me. So I didn’t become one of them.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” one of the Court members pipes up, the first word spoken from one of them yet.

“She was terrified!” Ian yells back in my defense. “She really thought she was dead. She didn’t know anything!”

“Hold your tongue, Mr. Ward!” Malachi bellows from the head of the table. “This is not the day for witnesses. You will refrain from speaking or you will be thrown out of this deposition. That goes for you, as well.” He spits this at the man of the Court who interrupted.

With everyone quiet, Malachi nods his head for me to continue.

And so, I do. With how I hid at Ian’s house right after that because he and Rath were afraid Jasmine would come after me and try to sway me with only partial truths. How I confronted Jasmine, took control of my own fate.

How she killed Ian, and how I vowed to take the House from her.

Every move I made to gain my House members’ loyalty. All the games I had to play with Jasmine.

The attacks that happened at her Broken House. All the people who went missing. How the town turned against me once more, just as I was gaining their trust.

As I tell it, the picture I was a part of becomes darker and darker. More sinister.

More gray.

“And then the King arrived,” I say. “Just one day later, I died, and Resurrected. And, yes, I toyed with the King. Yes, I played the political games. Survived the King’s own. Grew my House. And some of them might think I did this,” I say as I meet Lillian’s eyes. I’m hopeful when I see doubt there. Maybe she isn’t as sure as I once feared. “But my House is my family. And I would never turn on my kind. Because I didn’t know it then, but before I found my birthright, I was simply floating through life without a purpose. This is my calling, my home. I would never turn against my fellow Born, much less my King.”

I bow my head then, letting my eyes slide closed.

It’s true. The concept of a King is so foreign to my very normal upbringing in a land that has never had a king on its soil. But I stand before one now. He may be a sadistic man. He may have had far too much time on this earth. But I would never kill him.

The room is silent for a long time as I remain with my head bowed. I listen hard, hoping to hear breath of relief, they having been convinced of my innocence. But all I hear is silence.

Until a slow, loud clap sounds. Twice. Four times. Five. I look up.

“What a story,” Cyrus breathes out. “My, my. She is quite compelling, is she not? Even I am not sure what the truth is. Did Alivia commit treason in the dark? Did she build an army behind the veil of the poor, fatherless child? Or has she been framed by someone so clever that we have never yet seen someone so invisible?”

He asks questions, but everyone at this table is intelligent enough to know better than to answer.

“Members of the jury,” he says turning to them. “I want you to carefully consider the tale this woman has told. I want you to think about the personal experiences you have had with her.” He looks at both Lillian and Elle. “And I want you to consider how bloodlines affect the genetic makeup of one’s desires.” Directed to Dorian and Malachi. “The trial will resume in two days.”