Page 53 of Crown of Death
Cyrus’ breathing growsharder.
I look over athim.
His jaw is clenched hard. His nostrils flare slightly. His left hand grips the armrest of his throne hard, and I see the metal bending under hisstrength.
The music reaches a dramatic peak. The woman on the floor slowly climbs to herfeet.
She looks around as if lost.Confused.
I realize that Cyrus is holding hisbreath.
And his mouth hangs just so slightlyopen.
His eyes have ignited a brilliant red. Black veins creep from around his eyes, stretching out over his face. But there, I see just a tiny bit of emotion welling inthem.
“Stopthis!”
The words rip from my lips before I even give them a second of consideration as to what I amsaying.
The woman—the queen, the dancer—instantly stills, looking at me with surprised, fearful eyes. The music cuts off, and every eye turns tome.
I look at Cyrus, but he only stares at the dancer with unrelentingfocus.
“I’m bored to tears,” I lie, but put every ounce of confidence I have into my voice. “If this is your King, I suggest you come up with somethingbetter.”
“Excuseme,” Hector says, stepping forward. “This is not for you to evaluate or to dismiss. I don’t know who you think youare-”
“Get out,” Cyrus suddenly says. His voice is low.Dangerous.
“Your Majesty-” Hector begins tosay.
“I said get out!” Cyrus suddenly bellows. That emotion I saw in his eyes, it’s hidden now, but I can still interpret the pain there. “The woman said she did not like your show, and so I command you to take it elsewhere, and yourselves withit.”
Every one of these vampires, these Royal and powerful vampires, looks at Cyrus with absolute terror. Theytremble.
“I shall summon you, Hector, once I have consoled poor Logan,” Cyrus says. “For her utter disappointment in the woeful entertainment you who call yourselves Royals have provided. Prepare to participate in somerealentertainment when Ido.”
Cyrus’ voice grows more dangerous with every wordspoken.
The color disappears from every face around us with his lastsentence.
“Go,” Cyrus saysquietly.
They all finally move. Some of them dart out of the hall, so fast they’re nothing more than a blur. But the Royal family; Hector, Rafael, and Edmond, slowly walk toward the elevator. Edmond looks over his shoulder as they go, meeting myeyes.
And I swear I see utter hatred in them. A promise ofrevenge.
A tingle rushes over my skin. Fear. Exhilaration. The promise of achallenge.
Who am I thesedays?
The hall empties, leaving Cyrus and I alone insilence.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to donow.
Cyrus stares at that place where the dancer stood just momentsago.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his voicehoarse.