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“By blood we rule, by blood we die, by blood we stay loyal and true.” Our voices blended.
And just like that...I officially became Aslan Kara.
* * * * *
“You look tired, my son.” Cem came to my side where I’d invoked the shadows to hide me. Smoke continued curling, and the conversation kept flowing. We’d all moved into the cavernous dining hall where the heavy beams, rich artwork of mythical beasts and beauties watched us eat off fine china and crystal.
I’d eaten but not much.
I’d drunk but not enough.
My hand throbbed beneath its fresh bandage, and the matching one on my father’s palm bound us even tighter together.
I didn’t know what was expected of me or where I was supposed to go. I knew where I’d come from, but...he’d promised I wouldn’t have to return. Then again, he’d said that before and I’d just spent two weeks having a ‘refresher’.
I’d passed his final test.
I’d accepted my place and forsook a past that belonged to the dead version of me.
“I would be grateful for a rest.” I nodded respectfully. “If you let me know where my new room is, I’ll gladly—”
“Oh no, you might have graduated to being named as my official heir, Aslan, but you will never be left to walk around unguarded.” His face softened a little. “Not because I don’t trust you, of course, but to protect you while your power is still new. There will be those looking to test you. And until you have earned their loyalty through your own merit and not just an oath, I want you protected at all times.”
“I understand.” I smiled. “I appreciate you thinking of my safety.”
His gaze flickered to my left leg and the way I fisted my cane.
Was there guilt in his eyes?
Perhaps a tiny shred of shame?
But then he blinked, and it was gone, replaced with pride and blinding love. He loved me while hurting me. And now he loved me while crowning me. I didn’t trust that love, but it was the only thing I’d been able to cling to while drowning in absolute agony.
“You did well today. Faultless, in fact. Continue behaving this impeccably and we will never have to go below again. How does that sound?”
My thighs turned to stone to prevent trembling. “I would appreciate that.”
The searing, slicing pain—
My heart dying thanks to excruciating electrocution—
Sweat drenched my back as I shoved the flashbacks where they belonged.
Into my past.
Where dead things rotted.
I was dead.
I was reborn.
I’m his.
“Good.” He slapped me on the back and snapped his fingers at two of his black-suited militia that guarded every room in this colossal mansion. “Escort my son back to his chambers. You know which one is his.”
“Yes, patron.” Both men bowed, snapped to attention, then waited until I moved away from my shadows to march in front of them.
March.
Ha!
It didn’t matter if I thought of that word in Turkish or English, it was still a mockery to the way I moved.
Hobbled was more apt.
Staggered could also work.
I would never march again.
“Iyi geceler, Aslan.”
I looked back at my father. “Goodnight to you too, baba.”
A few generals stood from their seats at the table as I moved past. Some tipped their wine goblets in my direction. Not one of them mentioned the way I moved or whispered behind my back.
Not until I was out of ear range at least.
The moment I was out of the dining room and standing in the echoey foyer with its metallic-mosaic tiles, crystal-dripping chandelier, and dark-oak doors leading off to other rooms, I paused and turned to my two guards.
I knew they would lay down their lives to protect mine if we were attacked.
But they wouldn’t hesitate to take mine if I tried to escape.
I knew first hand.
I still wore that scar.
I won’t make that mistake again.
“Which way?” I asked in Turkish. Faint remnants of English crashed inside my brain. I’d been fluent once, but now I struggled to remember certain words. I struggled to remember a lot about that place, those people, that time...
“Follow.” The shorter of the guards strode ahead, leading me down the long intricately tiled corridor to the sweeping staircase in the heart of the mansion. Forest green, navy blue, and vibrant gold all swirled together, flowing down the marble steps with carpet thick enough to sleep on.
The two guards began their ascension. Their holstered pistols appeared at their lower backs as their blazers swung.
I slammed to a stop. My hand fisted the polished banister; my other sweated around my cane.
Kahretsin.
“Efendim?” The guards paused and looked back at me. “Did you forget something?”
I clenched my jaw.
I shook my head.
I climbed the first step.
It hurt.
Fuck, it hurt.
It pinched and stabbed, bruised and ached. No matter how much weight I put on my cane, I couldn’t get away from the pain. No matter how much I tried to walk like a lord, I almost crawled up those stairs like a fucking beggar.
