Page 6 of When Kings Rise

The murmuring stops when a far door, a door not used by guests, opens. I brace myself, expecting to see the one person who can strike fear in me, but someone else steps out.

It’s Michael Reardon, a page for the Hands of Kings.

“Isn’t this a bit above your pay grade?” Wolf sounds offended as he turns to Michael. No one else speaks, and Michael’s face reddens.

This gives Wolf more glee as he continues. “You have a lot of balls to use the crisis room when you are barely a member.”

Michael can’t respond. It’s forbidden. A page is the lowest rank in the cult. Wolf is a Duke, son of the recently deceased King. It is an insult for a page to speak to a Duke.

Michael dips his head in a plea for forgiveness before he speaks. “I do apologize, Duke. The Hand himself would have come, but the situation is uncertain in the group.”

Michael speaks out of turn, in my opinion. He should never make it sound like the Hand of the King is hiding. But everyone is as curious as I am as to what has made our leader hide.

“Uncertain?” Wolf barks before waving his hand across the waiting crowd. “Do enlighten us, Page,” he sneers.

Michael looks ready to bolt from the room and glances back at the door he came from. It seems as if it’s a reminder of the task he was given, so he addresses the room. “As you all know, almost a year ago, Andrew O’Sullivan disappeared,” Michael speaks to the rest of the room and doesn’t direct his attention to Wolf, who is fit to kill the page for just mentioning his father’s name.

When Andrew disappeared, everyone thought he had either been killed or had gone into hiding as he controlled an illegal gambling ring, but nothing was ever confirmed.

“Three weeks ago, we got confirmation of his death,” Michael says, and there is an audible intake of breath in the room.

I keep my hand relaxed around my drink, not reacting to the news. Three weeks ago? How had I not heard about this sooner?

“It’s Andrew for certain?” One of the members asks in a small voice. They’re trying to pretend like they care, but already, the scramble for power has begun. Who will align with whom, and what positions will become available with this turn of events?

“Yes, the gardai struggled to place his identity at first.” For the first time, Michael looks at Wolf.

“Get on with it,” Wolf barks, like we aren’t discussing his father’s brutal but well-deserved death.

“His head, fingertips, and toes were all removed. But luckily, one of our contacts in the gardai department reached out to the Kings. Richard O’Sullivan, Andrew’s brother, provided a DNA sample. The body is that of Andrew Sullivan.”

My father helped solve the crime and never informed me. I get many glances from the crowd, but when I continue to focus on Michael, they look away.

I was foolish. I should have buried the body deeper or done what I do best—make the body disappear. But anger and the need for revenge had made me sloppy.

“You can be assured that the Kings will be using all their resources to find the killer and find who set up the killer.” Michael appears pleased with himself.

Set up the killer? I tense and try to relax my frame again.

Wolf places his drink down on the study desk, liquid sloshing across the rim of the glass.

“Wait, someone knows who the killer is?”

“A woman, currently unidentified, was found on top of Andrew’s grave. She was placed perfectly above it. It’s either a coincidence, or someone within the organization is telling the killer that they know who they are.”

Once again, I control my body's reaction. This is all news to me. A guilty person would fail to make eye contact with the people around them. So, I look around the room at everyone. I’m assessing them,for a gleam in their eyes that might tell me they know my secret, but their greedy eyes shine as their own futures spin away in their minds. Some who have known Andrew a long time show rage, and some show fear. If someone in this room knows my secret, they are just as good at playing the game as I am.

“Thank you all for your time,” Michael says, and the crowd starts to talk amongst one another. Michael meets my gaze and makes his way to me, dipping his head in respect at everyone he passes. I place my full glass on a nearby table.

“I have a message from Victor. He requests you to be at church on Sunday. And he wants you to bring one of your brides.” His voice is low, the message for me and me alone, but the few around us are listening intently.

I nod in agreement, and Michael quickly departs. I don’t linger in the room but leave. Edward has my coat ready when I arrive at the main door.

“I hope you had a good meeting?” He helps me slip into the coat.

I watch him, wondering if he knows. Someone placed a woman’s body on top of the grave I dug. That is no coincidence. I’m getting a message; someone knows what I have done, and that’s why they placed the body there, so it would be found along with Andrew’s. I need to be careful and treat everyone as suspects. Once I find the person responsible, I will silence them. Making them completely disappear is my only option.

“It was eventful,” I answer. “Tell the valet to bring my car.”

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