The Phoenix Prince

by Kristen Gupton

  They stood there, fidgeting and looking awkward for being put on the spot.

  The prince nodded a little and crossed his arms over his chest, head cocking to the side. Maybe getting down to the facts would be easier than trying to make some sort of philosophical statement about his new reality to them. His actions would have to speak for themselves. “I intend to return to the castle at first light. Obviously, someone set this up. You may choose to follow or go wherever you wish. I’m not forcing anything on anyone. This is all a little beyond what any of you ever signed up for.”

  They had no reason not to return with him. Since he wasn’t dead, there would be no punishment for failure to guard him. Still, the man had come back from the dead, and there weren’t a lot of complimentary stories about vampires and how they treated normal people. Would Keiran turn on them? He didn’t instantly come off like a homicidal maniac, and he seemed like himself.

  The butcher gave a nod. “I’ll go with you.”

  The two guards looked at one another, before eyeing Keiran wearily. The shorter of the two elected himself their spokesman and shrugged before replying. “Aye, we’ll go. Do you know who did this?”

  Jerris piped up. “Probably Peirte Methaius.”

  The men had nothing to say to that, as it came as absolutely no surprise.

  Keiran nodded and looked to the butcher. “There’s a bear in the alleyway. I’d like that processed to take back with us in lieu of a deer. Can you manage?”

  “A bear?” he asked, taking another step forward. “What do you mean there’s a bear?”

  Jerris held up his crudely bandaged arm, blood starting to stain the wrappings. “There’s a bear in the alleyway. It was eating up our dearly departed assassin. I heard it, got up to see what was going on, and it attacked me. Keiran here dealt with it. Might as well not let it go to waste.”

  The fact he’d taken down a bear by himself did earn him some points with all three of the other men. Anyway they looked at it, that was an impressive task. The butcher nodded and grabbed his bag of tools before heading out into the alleyway, quickly followed by the other guards. It wasn’t everyday that they got to see a bear close up.

  Keiran turned to Jerris and offered up a tired smile. “That went well.”

  “Well, we’ll see in the morning. If we’re down to just the butcher, then we’ll know exactly how well it went.”

  “The other two do have their reservations, I’ll admit,” Keiran said. He was still feeling apprehension from them, though it was fading with their physical distance. The prince wasn’t sure he liked picking up other’s feelings like he was, but it might have its uses.

  “We should probably go back to the other building, and let them work it out,” Jerris said.

  The vampire nodded and moved out the door, crossing the street in the rain. Once they were inside, Jerris curled up in his blanket and tried to get to sleep. He’d need it before they left in the morning, and no longer in mourning over Keiran meant he might just be able to rest.

  Keiran, however, sat in front of the fireplace. As he sat there, he couldn’t help but think about Peirte and what had happened. A quiet growl burned in his throat and the ache returned above his canines. Due to the trauma that afternoon, he didn’t recall the sensation of his fangs descending earlier. They returned, however, slipping downward. He ran the tip of his tongue over them, before reaching up and feeling them with his fingers. It was an odd sensation to him, but he wasn’t surprised they were there. Whenever he’d seen Athan go on tirades, the other vampire would sport his own fangs. They seemed to be linked up with emotions, and Keiran was most certainly roiling with them at the moment.

  He let his hand fall back to his lap and closed his eyes. Anger over the councillor started to seethe inside his chest, spreading outward in a way he’d never felt before. It was overpowering, and his growing hatred for Peirte became the singular focus of his mind. Keiran started to envision Peirte as he tore him apart, piece by piece. In his daydream, he ignored the councillor’s cries for mercy. The vision was so powerful that he actually could taste the man’s blood on his tongue.

  Suddenly, Keiran snapped out of it, realizing he was biting his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. He shuddered and dragged the back of his left hand across his mouth, disquiet spreading through his mind. In that moment, he was actually afraid of himself, and he tried to force himself onto other, lighter thoughts.

  Somewhere, though, a spark of it never quite faded. Part of it had felt terrifyingly good.

  * * *

  Peirte emerged from his quarters in the early morning, moving around the castle and going through the motions of carrying on in his normal fashion. His skin was reddened like he’d suffered a sunburn thanks to what the demon had done to him the night before. Despite that, he was in particularly good spirits. Knowing that Keiran was dead and out of his way kept him in a perpetual grin and put a swagger in his step. He had a hard time keeping himself from laughing as he helped to make further arrangements for the banquet that wouldn’t be happening that night.

  Servants in the castle couldn’t help but notice the way he was acting, and they whispered amongst themselves as to what, exactly, could be responsible for the change in his personality. No one dared imagine that it was anything good.

  The weather worsened in the late morning, and by early afternoon a vicious storm had moved in. The sky was dark and booming with nearly constant thunder.

  The councillor stood in the otherwise vacated throne room, studying the stained glass windows that ran along the back wall of the space. He was already thinking about redecorating.

  The doors to the chamber were thrown open behind him and he spun, startled. Standing there was Jerris, soaked through from the storm. One of the guards and the butcher moved forward, dropping a blanket-shrouded body to the floor. The other guard pushed forward a cloaked and shackled man into the room.

  Peirte’s eyes widened, looking down at the wrapped body, blood stains having soaked through the blanket. Red, tainted water was spreading out from it onto the floor. The councillor forced aside his glee, and he brought his hands up to his mouth, trying his best to look shocked and cover any hint of a smile. He looked at the shackled man and grew confused. Peirte knew the assassin had died, so who was this that they’d brought in? Perhaps it was just the first poor soul they’d come across afterward, in an attempt to save face over Keiran’s death.

  The councillor turned to Jerris, dropping his hands back to his sides. “My God, Jerris, what is all this?”

  The redhead shoved back the hood of his cloak and strode close to Peirte, eyes cast down toward the body. His expression was miserable, and legitimately so, as he’d been making himself reflect on the moment of Keiran’s death for the past hour. He parted his lips to speak, before turning away from Peirte slightly. Jerris motioned toward the bundle and shook his head, voice wavering. “We found the stag and took chase. Keiran fell from his horse, shot straight through the heart. I… I tried to help him but… but what could I do?”

  Peirte remained perfectly silent for a moment, slowly kneeling next to the body. He placed his hands over the head end, feeling the definite contours of a face beneath. The smell of death was already leaching out of the shroud, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he rose back up.

  He scanned over the others in the room, before settling his gaze on Jerris again. “You let the only blood heir to the throne get killed?”

  Keiran remained quiet with his head hung, face obscured by the cloak he wore. His eyes were closed and he was not only listening, but very, very clearly feeling something from Peirte. Sure enough, what he was reading from him wasn’t honest shock or grief. No, the man was ecstatic, inwardly celebrating in some sort of poisoned happiness.

  By that point, others were crowding into the room, word of the hunting party’s return having spread fast. Several castle sentries moved in and flanked the group, pressing in close from their morbid curiosity. Mercifully, Corina wasn’t in th
e castle at the moment, having travelled into the town to get supplies for the banquet. The servants were mostly silent, some of the females standing with tears in their eyes. Most notable among them stood Thana, her hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’d run in with the others, and stood with her eyes fixed on the shrouded body. In her horror, she wavered, but was quickly caught and supported by another woman.

  Vampire or not, Keiran had been loved.

  Though he was trying to concentrate on Peirte, there was something very heavy pressing into Keiran’s thoughts. Thana was obscured from his view thanks to the cloak he was wearing, but her acute pain was still cutting through. He closed his eyes tighter, trying to get past it. He felt terrible for the deception, but he needed to do this.

  Jerris dropped to his knees next to the body and put his face in his hands, keeping up the act. His shoulders heaved rather convincingly, and he nearly choked on his words. “I failed him. Have mercy on me. We brought back the murderer. The men were quick to take chase and overtake him before he escaped.”

  Peirte nodded slowly, eyes landing on the cloaked man. His lips pursed, and he took a step closer to the supposed assassin, hands on his hips. He spoke without diverting his attention. “Sentries, place Jerris under arrest for dereliction of duty.”

  The sentries were reluctant to do so, but obeyed orders. Jerris was lifted up to his feet and put in irons. He didn’t fight it at all, just hanging his head in feigned shame.

  The councillor grunted and thought for a moment. The only way to assure that Keiran didn’t pull some vampiric trick was to have his body completely destroyed as soon as possible.

  “Prince Keiran’s body is to be taken out into the courtyard and cremated immediately,” Peirte ordered, before taking a few more steps toward the cloaked stranger. “Per the law, with no heir, I am henceforth in charge.”

  He stopped before the supposed assassin, knowing this was a loose end that needed correcting in short order. Even if this man couldn’t be the killer, he would be executed as though he was. His claims of innocence would be perfectly incriminating, even if they were sincere. Probably just some poor traveller, caught up in the worthless guard’s attempt to pass the blame.

  “Who are you, and who put you up to this?” Peirte asked the stranger, lacing his hands behind his back.

  Keiran was struggling to keep his rage in check and his breaths steady. He had all the confirmation he needed to know Peirte was utterly guilty. Again came the damned ache as his fangs slipped downward, their tips pressing against his lower lip.

  The councillor didn’t like being ignored, even if he knew this man couldn’t honestly be a party to the whole assassination. A plea of innocence would have been such a nice touch. He grew annoyed and reached out, jabbing his index finger into the center of the man’s chest. “Answer me!”

  Straightening to his full height, Keiran lifted his head a bit and parted his lips in a sneer. With as close as Peirte was, the fangs were blatantly obvious. He reeled back a step, fear springing up and making him break out in a sweat.

  “I cannot begin to tell you how very bad your idea to kill me was, Peirte,” Keiran growled.

  The shackles he’d been brought in wearing weren’t locked, and he let them fall to the floor, then reaching up and pushing the hood back. He felt Peirte’s growing terror and enjoyed it thoroughly.

  The servants in the room gasped, a wave of fear and relief mixed amongst them.

  “No!” Peirte put a hand over his heart and took several more hasty steps backward. Upon seeing the vampire’s fangs, he came to the instant and horrible realization that Keiran must have risen from the dead. There was no other way to explain what he’d felt the night before. A chill coursed through his veins, his hands going cold. There was something very different in the aura around the prince, and the councillor was legitimately mortified. “You… You died! Damned vampire! You died!”

  Jerris was quickly released by the guard restraining him, though he was still shackled. He scoffed and stepped closer to the councillor. “How would you know unless you were involved?”

  The councillor didn’t dare turn to face the guard, his fear of the vampire making him reluctant to offer his back. His composure was thoroughly rattled. “I wasn’t involved in anything! I’ve been here, doing my duties the entire time! How dare you question my motivations!”

  “Shut up, Peirte,” Keiran hissed, his left hand snapping up as he strode forward, capturing the councillor’s throat.

  The councillor yelped and reached up with both hands, trying to get Keiran to let him go. Keiran’s eyes narrowed and he slowly started to squeeze tighter. The fear he felt, no, smelled coming off the councillor made his pulse race. It was intoxicating.

  Peirte continued to struggle, his complexion reddening as he found his air cut off and his circulation compromised.

  No one stepped forward to help him.

  Keiran felt a smile creep up to his lips. The strength coursing through him left no doubt in his mind that he could literally pull Peirte’s head off if he wanted to.

  …and part of him really wanted to.

  He turned his eyes to the side for a moment and saw Thana. Something broke within him, and he pulled his hand away from the councillor’s neck. Keiran felt his anger instantly abate, as shame washed over him for what he’d almost done. How many times had he sworn to himself that he wouldn’t become a monster if he ever changed? To think that he’d almost killed the former councillor in front of Thana bothered him deeply. He motioned to a few of the sentries. “Take him away, please.”

  Peirte staggered back, rubbing at his aching neck. With the return of blood to his brain, his temper flared past his fear. He leered at the prince, before sweeping a glare around the room to the spectators. “You see! All of you just saw that! He’s a monster! You’re all damned!”

  The guards moved forward and wrenched Peirte’s arms behind his back. He struggled and protested loudly, but they didn’t heed him in the least. He was frog-marched out of the room and toward the dungeon.

  With that, several of the servants and onlookers began to file from the room. There would be weeks’ worth of gossip and speculation making the rounds. Regardless, none of them were terribly concerned about Peirte finally being called out on something, anything, and sent to the dungeon where he’d long been overdue.

  Jerris was freed of the shackles he’d been put in and stood there, rubbing at his wrists. “Well, I’m glad that’s squared away.”

  Keiran looked over at his friend, still feeling a little disgusted. The thoughts of all those still present in the room were whispering through his mind. For the most part, none of it seemed particularly bad, but there was still one set of feelings above all the others—merciful and complete relief. He just didn’t know who it was coming from.

  The vampire sighed and went closer to his friend. His fangs were quickly receding now that Peirte was out of the room. “He’s guilty as sin, Jerris. The happiness coming off of him when he thought I was dead drown out everything else in the room. I think he knew I wasn’t the actual assassin, too. So I presume that he worked it out for the actual killer to be killed.”

  Jerris started to reply, but snapped his mouth shut. He lifted a hand and quirked a brow, indicating that Keiran needed to turn around.

  Keiran quirked a brow as well, before looking back over his shoulder, soon turning completely. He was instantly hit with emotion as he did so. “Thana?”

  There were still tears in her eyes, though no longer of sadness. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but the words were hanging up in her throat. She looked up at him, being far smaller in stature, her hands clasped together before her chest. Thana searched his eyes for a moment, her expression worried. “It frightened some of us to think you were dead, My Lord.”

  Keiran’s usual shy and nervous response to her quickly shoved his previous bravado at facing down Peirte from his mind. He reached up and unclasped the cloak he was wearing
, pulling it from his shoulders and draping it over an arm. It was suddenly far too warm to be wearing the thing. “I apologize for it. It was the best way for me to judge his reaction.”

  She continued to frown slightly, before moving in and putting her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heart racing away. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  Keiran’s eyes went wide and he slowly put his arms around her in return, turning his head and looking over at Jerris.

  Jerris was just standing there, smirking like an idiot. He gave Keiran a thumbs up before turning away and strolling several paces off.

  The girl stepped back after a few moments, her cheeks red. It had been forward to embrace the prince like she had, but it had come from the heart. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Keiran was more than a little red himself, and he started to fidget with the cloak he was holding. He reached into an interior pocket of the cloak and withdrew her damaged favor. He averted his gaze from her, embarrassed that he didn’t know how to act toward her. The crush he’d been suffering toward her for a while seemed in very bad danger of spilling over into something a lot stronger. “I’m afraid… this… I…”

  Thana reached out with trembling hands and took the bloody bit of fabric, seeing the hole from the arrow. She recalled him putting it over his heart before leaving, her eyes going wide. “You were actually hurt?”

  He wasn’t sure how far he wanted to get into it with her, but for some reason, the truth gushed forward before he realized what he was saying. “Peirte’s assassin shot me through the heart, aye.”

  She continued to hold the favor, clutching it to her chest and looking up at him again. Thana was in awe. “Shot in the heart, but yet you stand here? It… it is true then, what has been said? Not just a rumor?”