My blood runs cold. Rage boils beneath my veins.
“He searched the home she had you in, and he found documents she thought she’d destroyed. He learned two things.” Valet looks directly at me. “First...that you were my son.”
A long pause.
“And second...that if House Devereaux ever found you, the Order would cease to exist.”
The room is silent except for the fire as my brain scrambles to piece it all together. The reason. The sons of Kenyan. What they had me do for years. The years they kept me locked up.
“See, they couldn’t kill you. They couldn’t release you. They also couldn’t let the world know they had you.” His finger traces the outline of Unit 9. “So they buried you beneath Kenyan.”
My jaw tightens. “They tortured me.”
“They tried to.” His voice remains even. “But every report they sent upward said the same thing.”
Our eyes meet. “Despite the trauma, they couldn’t break you.”
He lets those words hang in the air.
Then quietly adds, “They weren’t trying to contain a monster. But all they were trying to keep is a king from reaching his throne.”
The words echo through the library. For the first time since I walked through these doors...I don’t feel anger. I feel something far more dangerous. Vengeance.
Valet studies my face as though he can see the shift happening. “Come.” He turns toward another pair of carved doors hidden beyond the library. “There are seven chairs in this house.”
He glances over his shoulder. “And tonight, you’ll learn why one of them has remained empty since the day you were born.”
Valet doesn’t wait to see if I follow. The carved doors swing inward before he reaches them. Beyond them, the room stretches unlike any other room in the estate. The walls are black stone instead of marble. In this room, there are no paintings or sculptures. Only banners hanging between towering columns. Seven of them.
Each is stitched entirely by hand. Each bearing a different crest.
A wolf.
A lion.
A dragon.
A raven.
A serpent.
A stag.
A bear.
My footsteps echo across polished obsidian beneath my boots.
“This wing predates the estate.” Valet’s voice carries effortlessly. “When this house was built, these walls were left untouched.”
“Why?”
“They’re older than House Devereaux.”
That catches my attention. “I thought your family built this place.”
“We expanded it.” He brushes his fingertips across one of the stone columns. “This hall was already standing.”
“Who built it?”
