Page 30 of War and his Queen


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“Fucker.”

Following War down Perdita’s main town square, I watch as the locals wander the streets. They live by a nocturnal body clock, spending their days in bed and nights on the street. We’d protect everyone here for as long as we could. That was a fact.

Lights flicker on as the sun sets over the mountains. I slow the car down and continue to follow War, until he hits his brakes outside high iron gates. The house behind it has pointed cobblestone ceilings and hundreds of windows.

War’s door opens and my hand instinctively goes to my handle. His Jordans come into view as he climbs out of the car but gets back inside and closes his door again. The brake lights disappear when his car moves forward. Gates part and I follow him through with a rumble of my engine.

The Perdita mansion is extravagant, and over the years, I can see they’ve added on extensions. It has nothing on Hayes Castle, but it’s still big. Two pointed peaks reach high up to the sky before coming down into twin pillars, fixated to the wraparound patio. The stairs leading up to the front door are marble, illustrated with gold spirals. Before you can get there, you have to pass the two Lost Boys.

Lost Boys are the pickings of boys who have seen the trauma of this world and instead of it scaring them, or hardening them, it broke them. They’re boys who were born different. A little more violent than the others, but all without self-control. They came here, where they would be trained and shaped into exactly what they are now.

Soldiers.

After swinging my car slightly in front of War’s, I turn it off but keep my focus on the Lost Boys. One stands tall and lean,his youthful skin glossy against the impending moonlight. The other is shorter, but also heavier. His hair is in a high bun, and the AKs strapped to both their chests are there for a reason. To intimidate. Make no mistake, they’ll pop anyone theirmastertells them to. Lost Boys are loyal and fierce by the time they come out the other end, but there’s a catch.

They have an expiration date.

I push my door open and swing my legs out, raking my hair away from my face. “Hi, boys.”

Both Lost Boys cast a lazy glance toward me, before their eyes shoot over my shoulder. I don’t have to guess to know who they’re looking at. This island may be run by a family that’s connected to Tillie, War’s mom, but they know exactly who owns it. No one wants any beef with a King, especially this generation, I’m beginning to learn.

Dad was always logical, but Priest is unhinged, War is filled with rage, and Vaden has a heart made of stone. There is no rhyme or reason as to why they do what they do or play the games that they play.

“She knows we’re here.” War slams the door closed and both Lost Boys look between each other, whispering in Latin, our native tongue.

They separate, allowing us to walk through. I follow behind War, glancing a sneaky gaze at the tall one to my right. Just as I pass him, I brush his chest with my hand. He’s cute. They all are, but especially him.

The front door opens and we’re instantly in her space. You can smell her everywhere. As soon as you walk in, you’re met with a sparse stairwell that eventually breaks into two wings.

I shiver.

Despite the gaudy art hanging on the porcelain walls, the house itself feels like a barren womb deserving of love. She was just the wrong woman to carry it.

The clacking of heels intrudes on the dark melancholy sound of Rachmaninoff, the “Isle of the Dead”, that seems to continue to play subtly throughout the house. Creepy, honestly, when you think of what the piece depicts.

In a flurry of white silk and cherry red hair, Katsia Stuprum makes her way down the stairs, her blood red nails a stark contrast to the achromic color palette of the house.

“Afternoon, Kings and—” She pauses for a moment when her Jimmy Choos hit the bottom, her eyes holding mine.

I raise a challenging brow at her. “Still a King.”

She blinks, but hides whatever she’s thinking behind a vacant smile, allowing her naked body to slip through the crack of her silk robe. “Follow me.”

War turns over his shoulder a little, and I know he’s looking at me. Or at the very least, he’s wanting to say something. Probably to yell at me, since we haven’t spoken after what happened last night.

I turn to face Vaden and Priest, only to find them both regarding me already.

“What?”

Vaden shakes his head slowly, rolling his eyes before following War down the long corridor.

Priest doesn’t move. His eyes remain on me, his jaw tight. “I’m allowing this to happen, Halen. You may run circles around Dad, but nothing goes without my signing off.”

“I know that!” I chide, folding my arms in front of myself. Even though we know it’s a shit time for a brother-sister discussion, we also know that we aren’t going anywhere until both of us understand the other. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Halen, I’m not telling you this because I think you can’t take care of yourself. I know you can. This is about you making more of a mess out of a situation because you react out of emotion.”

My mouth opens, and then closes.

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