The Phoenix Prince

by Kristen Gupton

  Royal Blood Book I

  The Phoenix Prince

  Kristen Gupton

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are coincidental.

  Copyright 2011 Kristen Gupton

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Prologue

  Twenty-three years earlier…

  “I’m worried he won’t survive. It’s taken me over thirty years and two wives to finally have a son to leave the country to,” King Turis Lee said. The overfed, short man looked across the table at his friend Athan. “You are certain it is a male?”

  The vampire gave an indifferent shrug, as though knowing the gender of the unborn child was no great feat. His teal eyes tracked up and to the side. “She’ll be giving you a son, Turis. From what I’m sensing, it will be within the next few days.”

  Turis Lee leaned back in his chair and continued to keep his gaze fixed across the table at the other. “I want the Sipesh family to keep control of Tordania. If anything happens to this child, I fear my lineage will die with him. We’ve ruled here for twelve generations, I’ll be damned if this will be the end of it.”

  “Turis, royal families come and go. Your daughter is still the eldest and the rightful heir. It wouldn’t be the end of your lineage. This prince will be secondary insurance should something happen to her, but you can’t just write her off because of him. The law sees no difference in the genders of royal children in your country. The only priority in matters of inheritance is birth order. You know that.” Athan steepled his hands before him, eyes narrowing. Though he and Turis Lee were friends, he still found the man to be unbearably foolish at times. Then again, the vampire found almost all normal humans to be outright stupid under the best of circumstances.

  “My daughter is ill, Athan. She’s been bedridden now for a week. This epidemic going around is claiming children left and right, and I fear she won’t survive. Even if she did, eventually, she’d marry. The thought of some foreign prince riding in here and becoming king by default is infuriating! It would be the end of the Sipesh name.” The corpulent little man swept up his empty metal goblet from the table and hurled it against the opposite wall. “I won’t have it!”

  Athan quirked a brow, familiar enough with the Tordanian king to not be surprised by his outburst. The princess was sick, that was true, but the vampire didn’t sense that the girl was going to die. She wasn’t exactly a young child at seventeen years of age, either. As for the prince, there was something he could offer—something Athan could potentially use to his own advantage later.

  “There is a way to ensure that the prince will survive this epidemic and any others that might come between now and when he reaches adulthood. I could also help with the issue of the princess, and her legal claim to the throne,” Athan said.

  The king immediately settled down and canted his head to the side. “I’m listening.”

  “Very well,” the vampire said, sitting back. His eyes tracked up and to the left again, as he thought for a moment. “The boy, what are you going to name him?”

  “Keiran Valis Lee Sipesh,” the king said.

  “Ah, right, Keiran.” He turned his sights back to the king. “If I were to bite him, not badly enough to kill him, mind you, but in a manner sufficient to infect him, he would thereafter be immune to all disease.”

  The king glanced around the room to check that they were alone. Whereas a reasonable man would have refused to have such a thing done to his infant son, Turis Lee found the idea utterly thrilling. Keiran was an insurance policy on the Sipesh name, nothing more to him. Still, he had questions. “You would turn my son into a vampire? How would I raise him in that state? What would I need to do?”

  “While he’s young, simple rations of animal blood will take care of it. He’ll grow up normally enough. However, he must not be given human blood before he has matured, or his aging will slow to a crawl. I presume you’d like to have him as a full grown man by the time you die?” Athan asked.

  “Of course I do! I don’t intend to die for a very long time, however.”

  “Regardless, if you just give him the blood of animals every few days in small amounts, it will sustain him. When he has matured, though, his body will start to deteriorate if you don’t let him take human blood. The needs of my kind change as the body shifts from child to adult. If you withhold human blood from him for too long after that point, make no mistake, he will die,” Athan said, reaching out and tapping his index finger against the tabletop to punctuate the fact.

  “But won’t giving him human blood make him strong like you? What if I do and he decides to overthrow me?” The king’s eyes widened. The thought of being removed from power edged toward phobia on his part.

  “There’s more to the development of the sorts of strengths and powers that I have, Turis, than just taking human blood. You won’t have to worry about it.” Athan wasn’t surprised he’d asked about it so quickly. The constant fear the man felt was part of what made him so interesting to be around. He was easy to rile up. This wasn’t the time for it, though, as the vampire was completely serious. The prospect of spreading vampirism into another royal family made this a proposition he was eagerly going to pursue.

  Turis Lee went silent for a moment and nodded. It seemed like a great idea to him. There was one small obstacle, however. “How do we convince the queen that this is the best course of action to take with the child?”

  The vampire frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. He’d been watching the queen closely during his current visit to Tordania, and he already knew the woman was in poor health. There was something he’d been able to read from her that he’d not yet shared with the king. “Ilana isn’t faring too well, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Aye, she’s been sedentary the last few weeks,” he replied, nodding. The king had very little sympathy for what the queen was going through. She was simply around to give him an heir.

  “Turis, she’s not going to survive having this child. I’m sorry to tell you that, but I fear it is the truth.” Athan opened his eyes again, awaiting the king’s response to such news.

  He blinked a few times. Ilana had her charms, but Turis Lee had been considering having her poisoned before she got pregnant, anyway. The announcement of her pregnancy had been the only thing to spare her. “But the child, he’ll be all right?”

  The vampire gave an inward groan. Even by his standards, the king was outrageously self-serving. “Yes, the prince will be fine. She won’t be around to protest us doing what needs to be done to him, nor will she be around to interfere with what I suggest we do with the princess.”

  “Which is?”

  “In return for granting your son’s guaranteed survival, I wouldn’t mind taking the princess off your hands,” Athan said.

  “For what purpose?”

  “I’m sure she’d make a lovely addition to my castle’s staff.” Athan kept his expression neutral. His intentions with the girl went far beyond that and weren’t honorable, but there was no reason to say as much.

  The king looked to the side, mulling the idea over. He had no real investment in the princess. She’d been handed off to a nanny after the death of his first wife, and he’d not been involved with her since. If this could get her out of the way, then so be it. “That’s fine. I suppose all I need to d
o is get a nurse to take care of the baby if Ilana won’t be around to tend to him. That one servant, Corina, looks like she is due to have her baby any day. That could work out nicely.”

  The corners of the vampire’s mouth quirked upward into a wicked grin. He knew the woman in question intimately, and figured she might as well be used. “Oh yes, Corina will be going into labor tonight. I can see to it that the illegitimate creature stirring within her doesn’t get in the way. She will make a perfect nurse.”

  Turis Lee smiled in return, laughing. He didn’t like the fact the servant had gotten pregnant in the first place. The king thought it horribly unfair that low-class peasants were quite fertile while he had struggled for so long to get this one male heir.

  “Then see to it, Athan. Insure that Tordania will get its next king, and I will give you what you ask,” he said.

  The vampire picked up his wine goblet from the table and raised it in a mock toast, his grin widening. Turis Lee had always been too easy to manipulate. “So be it. Here’s to Keiran Valis Lee Sipesh. The future king of Tordania.”

  Chapter 1

  Keiran glared up at his sparring partner. He was sprawled out in the mud in a decidedly undignified position, his legs having been swept out from under him. The prince’s emerald eyes reflected his exhaustion, as he dragged a hand over his face to clear away a few globs of wet dirt. Though typically pale, his cheeks were burning red, and his chest heaved from the effort he’d put into the fight. His dark, sweat-soaked hair hung around his face and shoulders in a loose mess, completing the picture of a man who had been thoroughly bested.

  He groped with his left had to retrieve his rapier. The normally light Tordanian brogue that graced his speech was heavier from his exertion. “You fight dirty, old man.”

  “Don’t be a poor loser. Not everyone fights fairly, Prince,” the head of the royal guard said. He offered out a hand. “We’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years, you should know better. You get careless when you’re tired.”

  Accepting Kanan’s help, Keiran hauled his long frame up from the ground, grimacing as the mud dripped from his back. He tried to shake off both the dirt and his shame, before running his free hand through his hair. Keiran straightened up to his full height, looking down on his opponent, but soon slouched markedly forward. He lowered the rapier he held, allowing it to hang idly by his side. “I don’t think I’m up for much more today, Kanan. We’ve been at this for a while. Frankly, I’m miserable.”

  The old guard’s expression softened a bit and he gave a nod, sheathing his blade. Though he wasn’t quite as tall as the prince, he wasn’t a small man by any means. Despite his age, he was still one of the strongest men in the castle, and he’d hoisted Keiran up with one arm without the slightest sign of effort. His long, silver hair had come loose during their brief sparring, and was blowing around his shoulders.

  They hadn’t been fencing nearly as long as Keiran seemed to think. Still, there was reason enough to stop. It was getting colder, and it wasn’t helping the older man’s arthritis. He eyed Keiran’s posture. “I can see that. Are you feeling ill today? You haven’t been hunting in a while, I’ve noticed. I do worry about you.”

  The prince closed his eyes and reached up to squeeze the bridge of his nose, his sharp features twisting in disgust. He wasn’t feeling well in the least, but it was too emasculating to admit outright. He was in a state of physical decline, and had been for a few years.

  His father, King Turis Lee, still refused to allow Keiran human blood. His paranoia of being usurped was too great, despite the warnings he’d received from Athan about denying it from his son. In essence, it meant he was slowly killing the heir that he’d been so desperate to see survive to adulthood.

  The king did grant one small concession to the prince around his eighteenth birthday. When the stale animal blood given to him ceased having any real effect, he allowed his son to start going out on deer hunts. The fresh blood he could get that way seemed to improve things for a time.

  “It’s been a busy few weeks, and it hardly does me any good these days. Maybe if the weather clears up in the next few days, I’ll get around to it,” Keiran said, trying to shrug it off.

  Kanan stepped forward and patted the prince on the shoulder, offering him a smile. He’d been in charge of Keiran’s mandatory training since he’d been old enough to walk and talk. The prince was almost as dear to him as his own son, Jerris. Like many of those who dealt with Keiran, he feared the young man was nearing death. “This is Tordania, My Lord. The weather never clears up.”

  “I know…” he replied.

  The guard continued to consider the young man, seeing how poorly his clothes hung on his frame anymore. “It still may do you some good to get out.”

  Keiran sighed and dropped his hand back to his side. One eye cracked open and landed on Kanan, before his genuine, lopsided smile crept up. There was a glimpse of his well-aligned teeth, no fangs evident despite popular rumors to the contrary. “I could use the escape from my father, too.”

  “Ah, I think you mean to say it would be the usual excuse for you and Jerris to head out into the forest and get drunk,” Kanan said. “I know how the two of you have always been, not that I mind, really. You’re the only one that tolerates him in large doses.”

  “Aye, well, he’s good for a laugh.” Keiran let his eyes drift to the side, left arm moving to ease his rapier back into its sheath. His smile lingered. The old guard knew him too well and was more of a father to him than the impatient and ill-tempered king. “We have very specific rituals and protocols to go through on my hunts. Jerris is an integral part of it.”

  Kanan started to reply, but his eyes narrowed and he looked around Keiran. Heading from the castle in their direction was Jerris, coming toward them at a full gallop on his horse. “Ah, speak of the fire-haired devil…”

  Turning, Keiran saw Jerris nearing them across the open space that surrounded the castle. He put his hands on his hips, wondering what the younger guard could be in such a hurry over. The prince slouched further, figuring that Turis Lee was recalling him back to the castle. If that was the case, it wouldn’t be for any pleasant reason. He tried to make out Jerris’ expression, but the haze in the air kept him from really seeing anything other than his unmistakable tangle of red hair.

  “Not like him to be in a rush. My father must need me back to blame for something in a bad way,” Keiran said.

  Jerris arrived but didn’t dismount his horse. The animal refused to stay perfectly still, weaving back and forth after the short run. The young guard leaned to the side in the saddle, looking down at the prince, his expression unreadable. “Your father has fallen.”

  Keiran quirked a brow and cocked his head to the side. “Then someone should pick him up.”

  Jerris groaned and flashed a frown to his own father, shaking his head. His attention quickly shifted back to Keiran, one hand letting go of the reins to point toward the castle. His dark blue eyes narrowed sharply. “Keir, be serious! I’m telling you that your father is dead!”

  “Dead?” Keiran blinked and let his smile fade, looking back to Kanan. Though it wasn’t entirely unexpected, as the king had been in failing health recently, there was shock at the reality of it coming to pass.

  He dropped his gaze to the ground and turned, walking away from the other two. His black horse was nearby, and he pulled himself up into the saddle wordlessly. He took up the reins and turned the animal around, before signalling it forward. With mud flying in the horse’s wake, Keiran rode back to the ancient stone fortress in a matter of minutes.

  * * *

  Those amassed in the throne room fell silent and turned, as the echo of horse’s hooves on the stone floor resonated through the chamber. Keiran had raced right into the building on his mount and sat there on his steed, looking at the crowd. He hesitated a moment before dismounting. When he neared the others, they parted to reveal his father.

  King Turis Lee lay face down across the three st
eps that led up to the throne. The top of his balding head was already bluish purple, giving evidence that he was very much dead. His round, corpulent body had slid after he’d fallen, only stopping when his head and right shoulder had hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

  Keiran knelt slowly down at his side, briefly scanning over the faces of the servants that had closed back in around him. With a sigh, he reached down and eased his father’s body onto its back. The old man’s face was blank, eyes slightly bulging. There was a small amount of blood coming from the corner of his mouth, presumably from striking the stairs when he’d gone down. Keiran placed a hand against the king’s neck, but knew before he did so that he’d not find a pulse. The king’s skin was clammy to the touch, and he withdrew his hand in short order.

  He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. He wished he’d had the kind of relationship with the old king that would have allowed him to feel sad, but it hadn’t been that way. All of his life, the king had shunned him, giving him to the staff to be raised. His only active role in Keiran’s upbringing had been verbal and physical abuse whenever the boy had failed to stay out of the way. The prince knew it was horrible he couldn’t mourn the old man, but he wasn’t the type to pretend he felt things for the benefit of others.

  The prince finally opened his eyes again and stood. He looked at the servants, seeing the king’s grand councillor, Peirte Methaius. The councillor wasn’t tall in stature, his emaciated frame covered by the black robes he wore. His hair was a black, straggly mane. He was shoving his way rudely past the crowd, as his deep set eyes scanned the others. He didn’t slow until he was standing before Keiran, glaring up at the prince.

  “What happened here?” the hawk-nosed councillor asked in his demanding and curt tone, motioning vaguely to the king’s body.

  “I was out training and was called in, told that he was dead.” Keiran didn’t waver from Peirte’s stare, his jaw setting. He didn’t like the nasty little councillor, and with his father gone, there was no reason to hide it. His hands clenched at his sides, knowing that Peirte was going to make the coming transfer of power difficult at best.