Page 45 of Kingmakers, Year One

There’s nothing normal about Kingmakers, and I love that. I never pictured myself on a bright, sunny college campus, joining clubs and making friends, going to frat parties on the weekend. I always wanted to come here.

My father told me all about it when I was small—or told me everything he knew, at least. He had a deep reverence for mafia traditions, since he wasn’t raised in that world, but instead was initiated as a teenager by his adoptive father.

He told me, “I had nothing, Anna. Nothing at all. I was poor, miserable, desperate. Trying to scratch a life for myself in Warsaw but knowing that I would likely live and die as poor as I started, just like my parents. The only person who brought me happiness was my sister—she was brilliant you know, like you.She wanted to become a doctor. I planned to work and pay her way through school. We dreamed of someday buying a house in a nicer neighborhood . . . Well, you know what happened instead.”

I had nodded, sitting next to my father on the rim of an empty stone fountain in the walled garden behind our house. Even though I was only six or seven at the time, he had already told me exactly what happened to the Other Anna.

She was attacked and raped by threeBraterstwowhile walking home from school one day. She was only sixteen at the time. She killed herself that same night.

“I had no weapons, no training. But I was bent on revenge. I stalked those men. I tracked them. I killed the easiest one first. It was the first time I had ever raised a hand to someone, and I slit his throat without hesitation. You have never killed anyone, Anna. But someday, if you intend to take my place, you will have to make that choice. It may fill you with horror or shame. Or perhaps, if you are like me, you’ll find that you feel no remorse, as long as you are justified.”

I nodded again, slowly, looking up into my father’s face.

I have always loved my mother with a love that’s almost like worship. She’s pure kindness and light. She’s a divine goddess on earth, casting joy on everyone around her.

But I was made from my father’s bones. Not divine—fully mortal. My father is the one I take after. When I look into his face, I see myself.

So I already knew, even at six years old, that I wanted to be a boss someday, like him. And that when the time came to kill, I could do it without hesitation. Feeling that I was justified.

“I killed the second man, too,” my father said. “But when I went to kill the third . . . I failed. I was captured by theBraterstwo.I was brought before their boss, Tymon Zajac.

“I thought he would torture and murder me. It’s what I expected. Instead, when he heard what his men had done, he shot his own lieutenant in the head, completing my revenge.”

My father swallowed hard, a muscle jumping in the corner of his jaw. Even all those years later, I saw what that meant to him—that the Other Anna had been fully avenged. I knew he believed her soul could never be at peace otherwise.

I thought that perhaps her soul wasn’t at peace, though. I thought she might be haunting me. She died before I was born—maybe her soul had even been reincarnated in me.

The thought didn’t frighten me. In a strange way, it seemed comforting. If the Other Anna had become a vengeful spirit, it would only make me stronger.

My father continued. “What I learned in that moment is that theBraterstwohad honor. They had a moral code. They were not simply criminals, as I’d believed. Tymon Zajac looked at me. He didn’t see a poor, skinny child. He saw that I was like him. Or that I could be like him someday.

“He offered me a position at his side. He taught and trained me. And he told me the history of theBraterstwo,the Bratva, the Italian Mafia, the Penose, the Yakuza. Each has its own genesis and development. But like any ecosystem, we have grown, collaborated, battled, and aligned over time. And like many ancient families, we have ancestors in common.

“Many of the criminal families today can trace their ancestry to the Thieves’ Guilds of the Medieval Era. That guild had its headquarters at Kingmakers.”

I had finally interrupted him then, too interested to listen quietly any longer.

“What does it look like?” I demanded, even though he’d told me before.

My father gave me a description of the island and the castle fortress, which he had described for me many times, but I always wanted to hear it again. If he left anything out, I reminded him.

“Then there’s the towers—” he said.

“Sixtowers!” I cried, not wanting any detail omitted.

“A library?—”

“In the tallest tower!”

“That’s right,” he smiled.

My father’s smile is not like my mother’s. Her smile is so warm that it lights up the room. Her eyes crinkle up, her cheeks flush pink, and you feel like she’s laughing, and you have to laugh, too.

My father’s smile is thin and subtle. It doesn’t show his teeth. But it runs over you like an electric shock. He is just as mesmerizing as my mother, in his own way. They are Hades and Persephone: the King of the Underworld, and the Queen of Summer.

I always knew I would come to Kingmakers. And now that I’m here, it doesn’t disappoint. Every stone, every doorway seems stuffed with antiquity and intrigue. I want to get to know every inch of this place. I want to imprint my own history on its walls so that a piece of me will remain here long after I’m gone.

As I walk into the dining hall, I see Leo already sitting with Ares, each attacking a massive platter of bacon and eggs. I dish up my own plate from the silver chafing dishes set out for us, and I grab a pot of mint tea as well.

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