Page 19 of When Kings Rise

Diarmuid

Hands of the King Edict Four

Kings are made to lead our world, and they must also lead their homes. Kings are required to take on a Consort. Three candidates (Brides) are chosen for the examination, exploration, and exploitation of the King. One will be chosen as his Consort.

THE TASTING DID little to satisfy me. On the contrary, I find myself wanting more. Needing more. Every shiver and reaction from them had sent a thrill to my cock. I want to take each of them one at a time or all together. Each of them was exquisite. Choosing just one is proving to be a problem. If only I could keep them all…but I know that is against the rules.

The churchyard that I drive into is deserted. But that doesn’t fool me; I know from the moment I pass the large wrought iron gates and move down the long, winding driveway that I am being watched.

St. Gertrude's church is the perfect location for a man like Victor to hold his private meetings in. Who would suspect a man of such high standing in our society could be so calculated? Truly, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Aren’t we all? I muse as I park the car and get out. No service is happening, but several people mill about the sanctuary. If this truly was God’s house, we would all combust into flames for our sins.

Even the people cleaning the church are Pages and Barons assigned to protect Victor with their lives. Even if someone successfully took out the priest, they wouldn’t make it out of the building. Killing Victor meant killing yourself, which is the only reason the priest is still breathing. But a man can fantasize about ending Victor’s life. His day will come, just not today, apparently.

I nod at the cleaners as I walk to the confessional boxes. There is a row of them at the back of the church. Each one has its red curtains closed. The one I select has a small, red light above the door, telling people it’s occupied. It's my cue to enter this one. I step into the small box and draw the curtain behind me. I can hear a creak of wood from the other side and know Victor has been waiting for me.

I won’t kneel as I make my confession. I never do.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I start.

“When did you sin?” Victor’s voice is clear through the wood. I can’t see him; I don’t want to see his face.

He’s asking me if the job was done. “Yesterday afternoon.” I think of the boy whose life I was meant to take. He’s on a plane heading for a new life in America. My stomach squirms when the mother’s look of pure devastation enters my mind.

“With God as your witness?”

“My only witness,” I respond. There is a long pause.

“You’ve done well, my son.” Victor gives me his unwanted praise. More silence drags out.

I’ve always been sent to kill men, but a boy… I know it’s wise for me to question it so as not to raise suspicion.

“I wonder if this kind of sin will happen again?” Basically, will I have to kill any more children?

“Not right now.”

I glare at the wood that separates us. I can’t see through it. It’s not like in the movies when you can see the silhouette of the priest through the wooden partition with its small cutouts. This one is pretty much solid, with a few small holes to allow our voices to pass through.

But I don’t need to see Victor in order to know what he is doing. He moves, and I hear the worn wood creak as the priest shifts his weight. The sound of the silky fabric of his robe against the rougher fabric of the seat is another noise I can hear. I can almost see Victor’s nostrils flare as he lets out a deep breath. Is he annoyed at my line of questioning?

“This is your greatest sin.”

“This sin surprised me, I admit with genuine emotion.

“You have done it all for the sake of a greater purpose, a greater world.” Victor recites, and I detect no emotion in the old man’s voice.

I roll my eyes at that. Brien Cahill’s father had a gambling debt. With the wealth of the Hand of Kings, this could have been forgiven without affecting business at all. There was no greatness to this act. It was unnecessary. I bite my tongue, not saying what I truly want to say.

“Have you ever wondered why I didn’t send you to boarding school like your brothers?” His voice is closer to the partition. It is something I had wondered. I am as intelligent as my brothers, yet Victor had sent me to run weapons and kill enemies, and now I’ve been lowered to killing children.

Once again, I seem incapable of answering.

“I plan to make all three O’Sullivan brothers Kings. Do you know why we need Kings, Diarmuid?” Victor doesn’t seem put off by my silence.

I already know the answer to this because it has been drilled into my head repeatedly since I was a child. It was part of the plan: repeat the creed until the children believed nothing else. I didn’t buy into everything they taught us; sometimes, I saw beyond the curtain that hides the greed, monsters, and madness.

“Yes.” I finally answer.

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