House of Judges (House of Royals Book 4) (10 page)

“Or has that decision already been made?” Dorian asks. “Maybe you already have done everything for one?”

On a night, months ago. When everything went so terribly wrong. When I walked into a House with my life on the line. When I offered it all in exchange for the distraction and the hope for time to escape.

“It was all for nothing, though,” I whisper. “It didn’t work in the end, anyway, and he still hated everything I became.”

Dorian does not say anything for several long moments. He reaches forward, brushing a stray strand of hair out of my face. “It is hard to love something we have never loved before. To love something you once thought you hated. But learning goes hand in hand with time and effort. One passes without thought. The other is realized after all else. I do not believe it is time to give up hope, Alivia Ryan.”

I shake my head, taking in a deep breath. “I don’t think so,” I say as my eyes dart away from his. “I’ve messed too many things up, toyed with too many plots. I think it is best I just step away from everything. If I survive my time in
Roter Himmel
, that is.”

“Time is something we always have as immortals,” Dorian says quietly. “If time is what you need, take it. Just remember, time is a key element in second chances. Time grants perspective.”

I swallow, wanting both to push these emotions away and finally embrace them and let them consume me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You have many, many children,” I say. “I know they are not all born of the same mother. Did you love the women you bore children with?”

My question must have been very unexpected. It takes Dorian quite some time to reply. He ponders, thoughtfully. It’s understandable it takes him some time; he has a lot of it to consider.

“Before I could really even grasp what I was, what our race was, because then it wasn’t even a race, I had fallen in love at a young age. We married. We had three daughters. And then, I died. I Resurrected with a thirst I cannot describe, yet you understand. My wife was there, eager to witness what my father promised when he murdered me. And I killed her.”

I swallow hard. It’s horrible. Yet apparently common. Jasmine did the same thing to her husband.

“Over my lifetime, I have had five human wives,” Dorian says. “While none of them were my first love, I have loved each of them. And they, me. We had families together. We raised our children in a loving home. There are different kinds of love, Alivia. The kind we carry to the grave, no matter how long it takes us to get to that grave. It is the most intense, the brightest. And there is the kind of love that sustains us. It feeds us, lifts us up.”

The carriage rises in elevation as we climb the foothills of one of the mountains.

“You are in such a unique position, my dear,” Dorian says as we continue to rise. “You have experienced both. Both are
still
at your feet. You have a choice in this matter. I think you just need to look deep, and you’ll find the answer.”

I look away from him. Dorian puts these things into such simple words and statements. He’s lived such a long life, loved so many and for so long. He offers words of wisdom.

“I can’t accept that it will just be that simple.” The words come out thick.

“That is because it won’t be,” he offers sympathetically.

That sense in the back of my brain begins to tingle. The one that is ever aware of where the sun is. It rises, the sky lightening ever so slightly.

Dawn is not long off.

Dorian opens the box placed between us and offers me a set of sun goggles. I pull them on immediately, not eager to go through the torture I endured for a month again. And just as I finish pulling them on, the carriage crests onto a flat landing and the driver pulls the horses to a stop.

I’ve been so engrossed in our conversation, I haven’t really taken in our surroundings.

“We have arrived,” Dorian says as he stands and exits the carriage. He offers me a hand and helps me down.

The air is thick with dew and moisture. Trees surround us, glistening in the pre-dawn light. Flowers bud along the ground, weaved into the trees. The sound of rushing water draws my attention to the mountainside, and I see a waterfall just to the north of our location. A river runs down the mountainside.

Birds chirp happily, ready to greet the day. A small noise draws my attention south, and I spot a herd of deer.

Here, on this leveled area, stands a gazebo. There is a singular swing installed, and Dorian and I take a seat on it.

And we gaze out over the beauty that rests before us.

The mountains rise all around the town. Covered in green, capped with white snow. They roll, smooth, and then jagged as they rise around us, protecting the secrets of this supernatural town.

The lake gleams in the dawn, huge and spanning. Little ripples wake out from tiny dots of movement. I spot three boats out on its surface.

And there are the fields. The animals. The homes and the businesses. And finally, the castle, nestled into the side of the mountain.

“It’s breathtaking,” I say as I observe every detail.

“
Roter Himmel
is a very different place from the one I grew up in,” Dorian says. “We began to create something that wanted to be what it is today. And then the rebellion happened, and it was nearly destroyed. We are not a perfect people now, my child. You have seen our king. But we do some things right.”

Such a complicated speech Dorian just gave.

So many good and bad things when it comes to the vampires.

Dawn creeps higher and higher into the sky.

And I hold my breath as it races down the mountain. As I wait for it to reach me and cause me endless pain and misery as I have come to experience over the last month.

But all I feel when it reaches us is warmth. Soft and calm. It caresses my skin, bathing over me. The goggles protect my sensitive eyes, giving me safe harbor from the intense rays.

And for a few minutes, I just sit there in silence, enjoying the beautiful dawn.

THE BUILDING WE DRIVE TO next is large. The closer we get, the more voices I hear. The more bodies I can sense inside. I realize just before we stop in front of it that it is a hostel of sorts. We climb from the carriage and walk through the front door.

Vampires mill about, sitting at tables in the common area. Ordering drinks from the bar at the back of the room. Chatting and laughing. Two human girls and one human boy wander through the crowds, acting normal and social, until some random vampire or another sinks their fangs into their flesh.

“They are all from different parts of the world,” Dorian says quietly into my ear as we stand just inside the door, safely enfolded into the dark once more. “It’s a rite of passage, in a way, for a Royal to visit
Roter Himmel
at some point in their life.”

“I thought all the Royals away from Court ruled Houses,” I say. “There are dozens of people here. They can’t all be rulers.”

“They aren’t.” Dorian takes a step down, entering the main room. He crosses to the bar and orders a drink. I follow quietly behind him. “You’ve seen the extent of the Royal line. There isn’t need for so many Houses, and only the King’s favorites live here at Court. Many Royals marry other Royals. Many are born into their parents’ Houses. They are a part of a House, they have the Birthright to a House, but many do not actively rule.”

I nod. “It’s interesting to still learn so much about our world. And odd, that other parts of the world have an abundance of Royal leaders, when Silent Bend had such a shortage for over a hundred years.”

Dorian smiles, finding humor in my statement apparently. “Ladies and gentlemen!” He suddenly bellows, causing me to flinch. His eyes have turned to the crowded room, and almost instantly, they look back at him. “I would like to introduce you to a new member of our society. She may only have been resurrected for a short while, but her blood runs deep. Say hello to Alivia Conrath, leader of one of the Houses in America!”

Several people do indeed shout a hello, their voices slurred sounding, overly happy. Others study me with curiosity. Suspicion. Surely, they know why I’m here at Court.

But not all. Others simply give me a little glance before going back to their business.

A woman wanders over, her red hair falling down her back in long waves. Her face is covered in splashes of freckles, her eyes vibrant green. She’s breathtaking.

“You’re a Conrath, ey?” she says. Her voice is heavily Irish accented.

I nod. Once more, I feel out of my element. I don’t know what to expect from this room of mixed people. Will they hate me? Accept me? Not care one bit who the hell I am?

“I knew Lucas Conrath,” she says. She must see the confusion in my eyes because she goes on to explain. “Henry and Elijah’s uncle. Before the new world was discovered and they set off for the Americas, they lived in England. Lucas was one of the brothers that came across the waters to Ireland.” She gives me a look, as if she’s studying me. “You don’t know much about your history, do you?”

I shrug. “I never met my father before he was killed,” I say. “He left me very little, information wise. And no one will tell me anything. Apparently it was his wish.”

“Ey, that’s right,” she says with a knowing smile. “He was the one who ostracized himself from everyone.”

“That’s one way to put it,” I say. I’m so uncomfortable. I’m tired to being judged for the sins of my father. For being put in a box because he was different.

“Don’t let everyone make you think he’s the only one in history who’s walked away from the system,” she says. “It’s rare, but it certainly happens. Lord knows I get tired of it all and have to take a walkabout every century or so.”

This does pique my interest. “Really?” I ask. It’s as if a weight has lifted from my chest, and I suddenly breathe just a little easier.

“Course,” she says. She takes a deep drink from her mug. “You stay around the same people for an immortal, long life and you get a little sick of them after a while. Who wouldn’t need a break?”

“What is your name?” I ask. Confidence has begun to grow inside of me, the first I’ve felt of it since arriving in
Roter Himmel
.

“Siobhan,” she says, extending her hand to me. “Of the House O’Rourke. It’s a pleasure to meet another Conrath. It’s been quite a long time. I’ll admit, I had thought your line went extinct.”

“We nearly did, I guess,” I say. “Are there no other surviving Conraths that you know of?”

Siobhan shrugs her shoulders. “Not that I know of, but I don’t exactly keep close tabs on everyone in the family. But if no one claimed your House after that long, I think it’s safe to assume. Now, if you’ll excuse me, that fellow over there needs some of my special attention.”

She winks at me and looks over my shoulder to a dashing man with a devastating smile. Siobhan sets her mug on the bar top and walks over to him.

I watch her as she goes, so carefree and happy as she and the man walk down a hall together. “Did you really mean it when you said that no one here really believes I’m guilty?” I ask without looking at Dorian.

“The King does love his games, especially when he gets the chance to mess with Royals without repercussion.” He takes another long swallow from his own mug. “And more than anything, the attack at your House shook the Court members up. It’s been a long time since they’ve felt unsafe. They’re taking their fear out on you.”

“So, they’re just…toying with me?” The anger rises in my voice. A hot ball of acid grows larger and larger in my stomach. “Just…because they can? Because they’re bored?”

“Well,” Dorian says as he sets his mug down, the contents emptied. “I’m sure some of them do genuinely believe you did this. Sebastian’s mother, for example. But only because they’re too emotionally attached to the situation.”

“This changes things,” I say, my heart swelling. I can make plans now. I will be released. I’m going to go home.

“Don’t get too excited,” Dorian says. He waves the human male over. “You still have to finish out this trial. If you act overly confident, the King will likely drag it out just to torture you.”

That’s the last thing I want. They’ll be finishing the trial in just a few days; I don’t want to hang it up. I’m anxious to get back to my life.

And find who was trying to frame me.

“Lady Conrath hasn’t fed in some time,” Dorian says to the human man wandering between tables. He’s blond, tall, fit. “Are you fit to feed?”

The boy says something affirmative sounding in German.

“Please,” Dorian says, extending his hand toward the man. “I’m sure you are famished.”

At the suggestion, my throat leaps to flames. My toes, fingers feel dried out. My fangs lengthen and the toxins drip from them. I may have fed, whether or not I wanted to, while in the Club, but I vomited it all out.

And now, I’m dying of thirst.

The boy does not hesitate. He raises his wrist and offers it without faltering.

My fangs sink into his flesh with no resistance. Instantly, my mouth is flooded with red warmth. A blissful groan escapes my throat as I pull. The liquid slides down the back of my throat, reaches out to every corner of my body.

In less than a minute, I am fully satisfied. I release the boy, who simply gives me a smile as the fog clears from his eyes, and he wanders away.

“You give an impressive show, Lady Conrath.”

As I wipe any remaining blood from my mouth, I turn to see the woman who walks up to us. She’s short and tiny, with flowing black hair and slanted eyes. But there’s something in those eyes that looks deadly. After just a moment of evaluation, I know this is a woman not to be messed with.

“The way you’ve convinced your House members of your innocence,” she says as she stops beside Dorian. “I will admit, you almost have me sure you’ve been framed.”

“Then you must be someone who easily senses the truth.” I lean against the bar, folding my arms across my chest. While it’s been interesting to get to see different people in
Roter Himmel
, it’s exhausting suffering all of their judgment.

“Usually,” she smiles at me. Her accent sounds faintly Japanese. “But you are not a simple person, Lady Conrath. That much is obvious.”

“There are very few simple people in our world, I’ve learned.” I hold her eyes, blinking infrequently on purpose. This is something I’ve picked up: the appearance of innocence comes at my advantage. And any little ally I can make along the way at any point can come into play.

“It’s true,” she says as she accepts the glass the bartender sets in front of her. Dorian gives me a small glance before he steps away from the bar and settles at a table with three others. “Tell me, why are you being framed?” the woman continues.

“First, may I ask your name?” I say. A group of four get up from their table and make their way down the same hall Siobhan left. I indicate it, and the woman and I take the table.

“Not just yet,” she answers me with a coy smile as she sits. “I’d first like to decide if I want to give it to such a powerful prisoner.”

“That’s fair,” I concede with a nod. “I think the reason I’m being framed is because a civil war is coming. Someone has been building up an army. They’re attacking Born. They tried to take out an entire Royal House. They tried to kill the King. And I can only assume they are targeting me because they have something against my family.”

“The name of Conrath is an old one,” the woman says as she traces a finger along the rim of her glass. “Any House has many enemies if they’re ruling correctly. But your father’s seclusion is well known. You’ve caused some deep ripples in a short amount of time, Lady Conrath.”

I shake my head. “And that is my greatest challenge. Making people realize that this attack began before I even came into the picture.”

“A matter of days is an insignificant persuasion to those who have lived tens of thousands of them.” The woman leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Those dark eyes of hers study me in a distant way that is unsettling.

And there she’s illuminated one of my greatest problems. One I hadn’t really considered. To me, a few days makes all the difference, holds half of my defense. To me, who has only lived for twenty-three years, a few days matters.

But to these immortals, ones who have lived centuries, millennia, a few days is nothing. A few blinks of the eye.

I need to focus my argument somewhere else.

“You say a civil war is coming,” the woman continues after a few moments of my hesitation. “Do you have the numbers to win that war when it erupts?”

Her vivid picture drops a chill into my marrow.

So many bodies have fallen, so many lives lost, and we’ve not even seen the beginnings of the war Anna and I have predicted.

“No,” I answer honestly.

“If you truly believe a war is coming and that someone has the numbers to put up a true fight, you need to try damn hard to make everyone see.” She sits forward, resting her forearms on the table, looking coldly into my eyes. “This is how empires and dynasties fall. Because those who see the darkness rising from the shadows do not cry wolf loud enough.”

A new fire ignites in my chest. I’ve been thinking so small. So central and so selfishly.

Because there is a war that is about to happen. I’ve felt it since I first learned about the Bitten. They’ve been enslaved in the dark, cursed with a Debt for as long as vampires have lived. I’ve seen evidence of the uprising all around me.

“I will,” I say, nodding my head. “But I know they aren’t going to listen to me while they think I am guilty.”

“They won’t,” she confirms. “But that will be their mistake. Often truth is realized when it is too late. I hope that is not the case for you.”

She turns to the table next to us, says something in a language I do not understand to the people who sit there. An ancient man nods and hands her a stack of small pieces of paper.

She holds them out before her in her hand. I realize it’s a deck of cards, but unlike any I’ve seen before. The paper isn’t the thick, plastic-coated kind of playing cards I’m used to. It’s closer to rice paper, thin and brittle. And there are only dots on the surfaces. No numbers, no kings or queens as far as I see.