Page 21 of Exiled Heir

He led me back to the main foyer, up the massive stairs. They were marble, like everything else here, and when we got to the top, I saw that what I had taken for dark tile ceiling was actually a delicate glass, revealing the starlit sky.

The doors upstairs were all closed, so I couldn’t tell if everything was bedrooms or if there were some other mixed-use rooms here too. Cade’s rooms were at the end of the hall, guarded by a set of double doors sculpted similarly to the massive gates that guarded the property. Up close, I could see the carvings were a mix of different elements. Waves flowed along the bottom. Along the side, forests grew tall redwood trees. A windstorm swept away houses. On the bottom right corner, two mountains pulled apart from each other, dribbles of rock falling down their surfaces.

At the door, I paused, waiting to see if Keith had any more tricks up his pressed sleeves. His body jerked, bowing halfway, hesitating before fully bending at the waist.

I waited for him to stand, watching his face and eyes.

“Should I expect any more visitors who paid you to get to me? What’s the going rate for a werewolf visit these days? Hopefully you’re remembering taxes and inflation.” I took a long breath, sniffing the air for any hint of his emotions.

He shook his head, his eyes focused on mine. Unlike the other people who had looked at me today, his eyes didn’t rake over my body like I was the prime bull for sale at auction.

“You aren’t going to beg me not to tell Cade about your side hustle selling access?” I asked.

He didn’t smell like fear. He didn’t smell like anything.

“Should I?” The side of his lips lifted. “Will Prince Bartlett believe you? The three of them will just deny it. They’re going to get away with it. Telling him only gets you and me in trouble. You for making drama and knowing too much about his business. Me for taking an indirect route to his rooms.”

Turning toward the door again, I reached for the handle.

“A piece of advice,” Keith said. “Be careful. Prince Bartlett has a habit of getting people killed these days.”

Before I could ask more, Keith spun, walking silently down the carpeted hallway. I looked back at the door, running my finger along one carving. It was a small bird, perched in one of the massive trees.

When my finger touched it, the bird turned its head, nipping at my finger before opening its wings and flying up to another branch above my head. I gaped, taking a step back to look at the rest of the carvings. None of the other animals moved, but now that I was paying attention, I saw a faint shimmer where the leaves of the tree waved in the wind.

Shaking my head, I opened the door.

Inside, the room was empty. It was massive, easily as big as my apartment in Los Santos. A king-size bed was placed on the wall across from the door. To my left, I saw a bathroom, the door left open. White tile gleamed in the dim lights. To my right, there was an easy chair with a silver lamp sitting on a small table next to it. The closet was walk-in, the door slightly ajar.

There was a low couch along the wall next to the door, clearly intended for someone to sit while changing.

I took a few steps inside, closing the door quietly behind me. The room smelled like Cade, but the man himself was nowhere to be found. I stretched my ears, listening, but the walls must have been soundproofed because I couldn’t hear anything on either side of us.

With all sound muffled, my eyes were already drifting closed. I took a long breath, looking between the changing bench and the king-sized bed. It had four posts and long curtains that had been drawn open. They were dark gray, nearly black.

The curtains would be enough to filter out any ambient light. Without the Los Santos’ city noise, in the dark, it promised to be the best night of sleep I had had in twenty-eight days.

Shaking my head, I counted again. Twenty-nine days.

I had only taken two steps toward the bed when the door behind me opened. Turning, I found Cade standing in the doorway. His lips were tight, practically bloodless, when he looked me over.

He was wearing the same clothes and didn’t smell like he’d taken his own shower. His eyes raked over me, and I drew my shoulders back.

Earlier, Kulsa had been trying to make me feel small, trying to remind me of my place. Cade was merely observing his investment. Would I be worth the time and money he was spending on me?

Stepping into the room, Cade closed the door behind him silently. I wondered if any of the doors in this house made sounds. It must have been hard to be a teenager here, wanting to slam a door when they all shut silently.

“Rhys came to see you,” Cade said.

It wasn’t a question, but I ran a hand over my newly short hair self-consciously. “Yeah. I ran into Tyson and a few other suspects. Are you sure there’s only one source of rot in your household? Because I smell a whole bushel of apples that are fermenting.”

Cade exhaled through his nose, his nostrils flaring. He came closer, squinting at my face, examining the work that Rhys had done.

“Who?” he asked in a tight, clenched voice.

“Well, Tyson wanted to start a fight, but Rhys got him to back off. Keith, the servant, delivered me to Sonja and Petrona for a thick envelope full of cash. Brett Kulsa tried to bribe me.” My eyes strayed to the bed again.

Waving his hand, Cade dismissed my suspicions. “No. I know about all of them.”