I pace back and forth over the wood floors of my office. Expectantly, Dorian, Malachi, Mina, and gratefully—Cyrus, watch me.

I need time to think. I need some time to figure all of this out and decide what the hidden agenda here is. But there is no time. They’re here, just outside our borders.

“Right now Lorenzo has no idea about anything,” I think out loud. “He doesn’t know Cyrus is still alive. He doesn’t know the invasion is fake. He doesn’t know his children are here.”

I stop, placing my hands on the desk. My brain is racing a million miles an hour and it’s making me feel physically tired already.

“I think we need to make it known to these descendants that we have an army here. We need them to see it. They won’t dare try anything if they see the manpower we have right now.”

I stand, staring at a painting of Cyrus and I from the sixth century, but not really seeing anything.

“It needs to be me who shows them,” I conclude. “We need to seem strong. I need them to know that they have to respect me and the crown.”

I head toward the door, nearly forgetting there are others here. I stop suddenly, turning back. “Dorian, I want you to watch Lorenzo. Let rumors start spreading that a bunch of Royals with eyes like his have shown up and are trying to get into the city. I want to see what he does. And his four children who live here.”

“Yes, my Queen,” he acknowledges with a bow.

“Malachi, I want you and Mina to finish vetting the rest of the Royals. It’s time to throw some real fire underneath this investigation. Wrap it up, because we’re going to need those we can trust. I can feel it.”

Malachi and Mina nod, standing, prepared to go and do what I’ve asked.

My eyes flick to Cyrus.

I need him.

I need the support right now. I need someone to talk this through with.

But I know he needs time out. I promised that I would carry this for now.

So I don’t say anything to him. I turn, and head down the hall, heading straight for our room.

I can’t tell if this is anxiety or relief I feel when I hear footsteps following behind me, recognizing the sounds of Cyrus. But I don’t turn, don’t say a word. I walk with focus up to the first floor.

Yanking the doors open, I go straight for the closet. I peel clothing off, digging through the closet. I pull on a pair of leather pants and a stake-proof vest, slipping a black shirt over the top of it.

Cyrus watches me, standing at the foot of the bed.

There’s something going on in that head of his. I can feel the wheels turning, spinning.

But I don’t have time to stop and ask what he’s thinking.

Going to the bathroom, I tie my hair back, twisting it into a bun that will be out of the way if everything about to happen comes to a fight.

Crossing back into the bedroom, I go to the painting, swinging it aside. I press the third stone down. Then I twist the lantern hanging from the wall forty-five degrees to the left.

I flip aside the rug and pull the hatch open to the armory beneath our room. I drop down inside.

Above, I hear Cyrus get up and cross to the closet. I can hear him rummaging around. But I have to focus. I can’t be Cyrus’ fiancé right now.

I have to be the Queen of all vampires.

Sweeping the personal armory, I grab two aluminum stakes, lightweight but strong. I slip them into the waistband of my pants. I also grab a handgun, check to make sure it’s loaded. And then for good measure I take five vials filled with purple liquid. I have no idea what they do, but if they’re here, they have to be deadly. I slip them into the side pocket of my pants.

I turn to climb back out, when Cyrus suddenly drops down into the space with me. Without looking at me, he too loads up on weapons. He’s dressed in similar clothing, but with no stake-proof vest, because as we’ve been witness to, he doesn’t need it.

“Cyrus,” I question. “What-”

Finished packing his weapons, he turns to me, his eyes intense. “When I woke up, all I cared about was our time together, Logan,” he says. There’s so much passion in his tone, I find myself leaning in closer. He takes my hands, holding them to his chest. “All I cared about was you. But I have seen what the weight of carrying all of this on your own is doing to you, im yndmisht srtov. And I’ve come to learn this, after all these years, because you have shown it time and time again: when you love someone, you carry one another’s burdens.”

My heart flutters and breaks into an elated sprint.

Cyrus reaches up, cupping his hand to the back of my head, touching his forehead to mine. “I am with you, my love. We will get our family through this. Together.”

I rush forward, crushing my lips to his, gratitude and relief flooding through me.

I can do this. I know I can carry the kingdom through this trial.

But doing it alone is exhausting.

If we’re going to be man and wife, we must be partners. Equals in carrying the burden of the crown.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips as Cyrus clings to me, holding me with strength and possession.

He pulls away, looking deep into my eyes. “Let’s go put this problem to bed.”

I feel as if I could control fire and tempests as, side by side, Cyrus and I walk out of the castle. I feel strong enough to crush the mountains that surround us as we dart invisibly fast over the valley. Together, I feel like we could command the moon to move and the sun to rise as we charge up the road, toward the mouth of the canyon.

A flash of irritation pulses through me as the sun crests the mountain and I have to pull on my sunshades. After two thousand years, the freaking sun itself is still one of our biggest downfalls.

As Cyrus and I approach the inn, we slow, searching the surroundings and listening for our spies.

Through the woods, I spot one of our men. Silently, Cyrus and I creep to him. And I forget, they all still think Cyrus is dead. So the man’s eyes widen as he takes in Cyrus, his face blanching stone white.

“Report,” I whisper. There’s no time for shock or explanations.

“They haven’t said much of anything,” the man says. “Only expressed annoyance that they aren’t being allowed into the city. The only thing said that raises any flags is that they’ve talked about the arrival of the rest of the family.”

“The rest of the family?” I question, looking at Cyrus. “How many kids could Lorenzo possibly have? There were four in Roter Himmel, there’s me, and now these ten? Who, besides our son has ever had so many children?”

Fifteen children, and apparently there are more?

“The House of Himura has many children,” Cyrus says, thinking on it. “Dorian and Malachi, obviously, but that’s been over all this time. Lorenzo has been around for only a fraction of that same time.”

A fraction. Ha. That sounds absolutely ludicrous to Logan. Lorenzo has been around for over six hundred years according to Cyrus.

“Any idea how many more family members we’re talking about?” I ask the spy.

He shakes his head.

“How has this slipped by?” I ask, turning back to Cyrus. “It’s always been the same. The Royals here at Court function as members of our society. All Royals out in the world are in charge of a House, but I know there isn’t a St. Claire House. But with so many of them…”

“They have the numbers to form one, easily,” Cyrus growls. Embers glow in his eyes. As if it is a physical thing, I can feel the heat and anger growing from him.

“Keep watch,” I instruct the spy. “Watch the roads, keep an eye on the mountains. If there are more coming, I want to know.”

The spy nods and heads back into the trees.

“Shit,” I breathe, turning back toward the inn and stalking toward it.

This is bad. This is big. And I don’t understand enough of it.

I shove my way through the front door of the inn, and to my relief, I find the woman from the car at the front desk, trying to communicate with the desk clerk, who does appear to speak English or Italian.

“We need to have a talk,” I say, fixing our mystery woman with my dark eyes.

Her own dart from me, to Cyrus, and they widen with absolute fear.

“Do you have a meeting room here?” Cyrus asks the desk clerk in perfect German.

The poor thing. She’s just too helpful and innocent. She takes us down the hall and opens a door, revealing a small conference room.

“Thank you so much,” Cyrus says, holding the door for the St. Claire woman and I. “We will make sure that everything is taken care of here. You should go home, and tell the rest of the staff to take the next few days off, as well.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick wad of cash, handing it to her. She gapes at him with wide eyes, the money sitting in her hand. Cyrus stares at her darkly, a million unspoken words of warning in them.

She swallows once, and then nods. She instantly goes back to the desk, grabs her purse, and walks straight out.

Cyrus shuts the door with finality, sealing us in.

I sit across from the woman. She’s stark white. She keeps staring at Cyrus, and I can just see the gears turning in her head a million miles an hour.

“Tell me your name,” I ask first. I lean forward, never breaking eye contact, even though she keeps looking at Cyrus, like he is the devil himself walked into the room.

“Irene,” she provides. She swallows once and sits back in her chair. I hear her take two deep, slow breaths, like she’s trying to get a grip on herself.

“We have a few questions for you, Irene St. Claire,” I say. I lay my hands on the table, one on top of the other. “And you’re going to answer them honestly, got it?”

She just stares at me, her lips frozen.

Cyrus pulls out the seat beside me and sinks down into it. I swear, I can feel heat radiating off of him. Fear ripples off of him on the coat tails of the power he drips.

There is a reason Cyrus has stayed King for all these centuries.

No one possesses power and wields it like Cyrus does.

“You will answer Sevan’s questions honestly, won’t you?” Cyrus says in a low, quiet voice. He places his forearms on the table, leaning in.

Terrified, she nods her head.

I don’t miss the fact that she never spoke the words.

“You sound Italian,” I state. “Is that where you’re visiting Austria from?”

“Yes,” she says. “My family lives in a small village about two hours from the border.”

I nod. Good. She’s giving me answers.

“And how many are there in your family?”

This is the part I worry about.

“Just the ten of us,” she says. “Our mother, most thought her a miracle, because she conceived so many times. Our father loved her even more because of it. Unfortunately, she died giving birth to my youngest brother.”

“And how long ago was that?” Cyrus asks.

“Twenty-two years ago,” she says. She seems to be getting a better grip on herself as she provides the answers, and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. It might mean her mind is clearing, making it easier to lie. “He just Resurrected two weeks ago. That is the reason our father invited us all here, to Court. To celebrate the immortality of our entire family.”

“Are you aware that Lorenzo has other children, here at Court?” I ask. My voice is cold.

Irene nods. “We knew we were not the first family Lorenzo St. Claire had. His previous wives grew old and died. He met our mother later in life.”

“With Royal blood, you and your siblings are entitled to certain luxuries,” I say. “A life here at Court if you gained favor in the eyes of Cyrus. Or attachments to a House. Why have you lived this life of isolation? Why has Lorenzo kept your existence a secret?”

I see it now. Her confidence once more locks into place. Her eyes are clear of fear. She sits forward. “There are certain expectations when you live at Court. When you are a part of a House. Our father, he wanted us to have a simple, happy life. We’ve never had to be part of any wars. Never lived a life of suspicion and servitude. He gave us the chance at a normal life.”

I mull that over for a moment. Just because I’ve never heard of another Royal going about life this way doesn’t mean it isn’t reasonable.

“How many more of you are coming to Roter Himmel?” Cyrus asks.

Her eyes flick to him, and they widen just a bit. And now she knows they are being watched. Listened to.

“We have six other half siblings,” she says. But there’s something tight about the way she says the words that makes me question if she’s telling the truth. “They are traveling from farther away than me and my siblings. They are set to arrive in a few hours.”

Cyrus and I look at each other. We’re good at holding the façade. Instead of worried expressions, we hold cold calculation.

I take a deep breath, and look back at Irene. “Like I told you, Roter Himmel is still under lockdown. I expect it will remain so for some time. I am sorry you came all this way for nothing, but I suggest you return home. And that you call your half-siblings and tell them the same.”

Her eyes narrow and she sits forward. “It was a long journey, longer for the others in my family. I think we will wait for the day this lockdown is finished.”

My hands curl into fists, and her eyes drop down to them. “It might be a long wait.”

Her eyes once more flick up to mine. “Trust me, we can be patient.”

We stare at one another for a long moment.

I can’t read this woman. She seems timid and scared one moment and manipulative and deceitful the next.

“Please let me know when the rest of your siblings arrive,” I say. I grab the notepad that was already lying on the table and write down my phone number. “I’d really like to meet the whole family once they’ve arrived.”

“And we would like to get to know you, as well,” Irene says, staring at me as a mirthful little smile begins growing on her lips. “Sister.”

I stand, shoving my chair back. I won’t let her get to me. I won’t show an ounce of emotion. Cyrus stands as well, and we take a step toward the door.

“I’m sure you have figured it out by now, you seem like a smart girl,” I say as I hesitate in the doorway. “But you’re being watched. We have to be careful these days, as we always have been. So don’t try anything. Don’t leave.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” she says as she too stands.

I turn and walk out. Cyrus follows me out into the bright day, sunshades securely in place.

We walk down the road, once more searching the trees for a spy. Thankfully, only a few moments later, the same one darts out onto the road.

“She said there are six more of them that are going to be arriving over the next few hours,” I say. “Something makes me think she’s lying about the number. Expect more.”

The man nods, his lips forming a thin, hard line.

“Don’t let them leave the inn,” I say. “Don’t let them anywhere near the city. We’ll be sending more back-up shortly.”

He nods and heads back into the trees.

With a look at Cyrus that says we’ll discuss this further when out of earshot, we dart off down the road, and back toward Roter Himmel.