Page 51 of Crown of Death
Mina’s hand pushes against my back, urging meforward.
Own this, I think to myself.If they’re going to make you completely change your life, don’t be afraid. Show them that you won’t becowed.
My heels click over the stone floor, echoing through the massiveroom.
It’s large enough it takes a dozen or so steps before I can recognize who all I am lookingat.
People, a few faces I recognize, most I don’t, stare at me. They’re dressed in finery. Mostly black. They stare me down with watchful eyes. Each and every one of themsilent.
But it’s Cyrus that I can’t look away from as I cross the room. It’s his black suit with red stitching that matches my skirt that commands respect. It’s his penetrating gaze and mirthful little smile in one corner of his mouth that I can’t quite look awayfrom.
But it’s the throne he sits upon, and the crown atop his head, that steels mybreath.
I slow as I approach it—him, and the others. And come to stand before the man who commands power. The man who radiates strength and instills fear in the eyes ofvampires.
And Iknow.
I understandnow.
“Your Majesty,” I say, taking a bow, letting my eyes fall from his. I repeat those words I heard from Edmond, two weeks ago, but did not comprehend at thetime.
Cyrus, I think as I straighten,isKing.
“Hello, Logan,” he says, still holding that little smile. He always seems too amused, watching us little pawns scurry around for his game. He admitted to it before, he stated it lastnight.
“I always said you were someone important,” I say, forcing my voice not to shake. “But I think I was in denial that I was being held captive by aking.”
A darkness flickers through Cyrus’ eyes at that word. His smile falters just abit.
“Now you see why I am so involved in the affairs of the Houses,” he says as he stands. He slowly crosses toward me. My eyes rise to the crown atop his head. It’s simple, really. Only solid gold. But it’s scarred, stained. The sharp points of it that circle his head show signs of war and wear. “One must know everything if one is to rule themall.”
I meet his deep eyes. “Either that, or you’re just plaincontrolling.”
A sharp intake of breath echoes throughout the hall. That’s when my heart jumps into my throat, fear ripping through my veins. I look over Cyrus’ shoulder to see everyone behind with shocked expressions on theirfaces.
But as I look back at Cyrus, he only smiles that smile ofhis.
“There’s something about you, Logan Pierce,” he says smoothly. “That is forcertain.”
Everyone is deadly quiet. As if they’re waiting for something. For backlash. For him to strike medown.
But Cyrus only takes my hand, and turns back to the crowd. Taking his lead, I step four steps forward, side by side withhim.
“To the honorable House of Valdez,” he says, his voice booming with power. “I present Logan Pierce, daughter of Alivia Conrath. Descendant of my grandsons, DorianandMalachi.”
Another reaction of awe andshock.
Mygrandsons?
What…what does that evenmean?
There are so many things that I could question from just those twowords.
But right now, everything,everythingis about showing nofear.
Only projectingconfidence.
A man steps forward. He looks maybe thirty, at most. As I study him, I pick out similarities. Edmond’s same eyes. Samechin.