The King's Knight (Royal Blood Book 5)

by Kristen Gupton

Athan looked Keiran up and down, leaning back a bit. “If she could, would I be asking? One last time, boy. Do you know his whereabouts?”

  “No, I’ve not seen him since we set him free in Minar,” Keiran replied honestly.

  “Huh.” He shrugged and motioned weakly with his hands. “Well, if he’s not in the Wastes, his whereabouts will come out. It just so happens that vampires don’t remain secret for long in most circumstances.”

  “Regardless, I cannot help you,” Keiran said.

  “I suppose I should get on with what I need to do in that case. Your mother managed to keep the sword hidden, but you aren’t her. Wherever you’ve hidden it, I will find it.” Athan turned to face the doors of the castle and drew in a deep breath. As he let it out, he lost all form and splashed to the ground as a black liquid.

  Keiran jumped back and watched the puddle begin to stream along the cobblestones. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop Athan in this state, and he watched helplessly as the surging pool began to run up the stairs.

  Kanan had been keeping an eye from the guard shack and jogged over as Keiran followed behind Athan’s trail. “What’s he doing? What’s going on?”

  Keiran watched helplessly as the liquid reached the top of the stairs, climbed the wall a short distance, and disappeared into the stonework. He went forward, placing his hands against the wall, finding it dry and all trace of the fluid gone. He realized removing the sword to take it elsewhere would only allow Athan to find it quicker.

  “He’s inside the walls… There’s nothing I can do,” Keiran said.

  The old man cursed under his breath and looked at him. “What is he after?”

  Keiran shook his head, complexion going ashen. “The sword.”

  * * *

  Mari and Garhan had gotten through Tordan Lea and onto the trade route running north from the valley. Though they hadn’t gone far, they were stopped.

  Garhan had reined his horse to a halt and slid from the saddle without warning. He’d wandered off the road and under a tree, sitting down beneath it and placing his head in his hands.

  Mari dismounted as well and went over, kneeling before him. She could see his trembling had returned, his entire body shaking. “Gary?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m going to hold you up every step of the way,” he whispered back. “I feel like the sky itself will come down upon us. I was doing all right, but now it feels as though something absolutely terrible is going to happen.”

  She frowned and moved around beside him. Mari draped her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek against the top of his head. “Would you like to turn back? We haven’t gone that far yet.”

  He shook his head and moved to look at her, his complexion pale. “No, I need to do this. I’m certain it will get better the further we go. It’s just as though death is right behind me.”

  Mari couldn’t relate to his phobia, and it had been nearly laughable in the months prior. Seeing him struggling like he was, however, cut all of the humor out of it. “We are quite safe. I promise it, Gary.”

  “While I know that to be true, I feel it nonetheless.” He drew in a sharp breath and slowly stood back up, running his hands through his hair.

  She rose up, too. “Tell me what you want to do, and we’ll do it. Better you decide to turn back now rather than going further before backing down.”

  Garhan forced up a pain smile and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I might just ride with my eyes closed for a while. Can we tie my horse’s reins to your saddle?”

  Mari lofted a brow and tried to force back a smile. “Are you serious?”

  “Deathly.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “All right. We’ll do it your way, but I’ll be damned if I’ll pony you all the way into Aleria.”

  * * *

  Betram had spent the previous days making his way through the tent city along the Ibianese end of the bridge. He’d been pleading his case for help, but it hadn’t been particularly fruitful. Many doubted his identity, and out of those exiled, most wanted nothing to do with the deposed emperor.

  While he wanted to get his palace back from Danier, he was beginning to lose hope. Marique’s notion about seeking help from Keiran played in the back of his mind. The Tordanian certainly had a financial incentive to intervene as their trade with the Sador Empire had been beneficial.

  Still, seeking help from someone who’d had the personal experience with the Sadoris Keiran had seemed risky. Though Betram himself had been personable to Keiran, what happened to Thana might have been enough to give the vampire reason to refuse help.

  Then again, Betram knew Keiran’s woes with all that had taken place stemmed from Danier’s actions. Personally, he’d not wished either Thana or Keiran any harm.

  Traveling into Tordania would be a challenge for Betram, however. It had been a long time since the old man had done anything alone. While he still had two of his men at his side, he was used to traveling with an entourage of dozens and only within the confines of his own nation. Besides, while he could identify Tordania on a map and point out Tordan Lea, being on the ground was something completely different. He had no idea where to go or how to get there.

  The afternoon sun stirred up a considerable level of humidity from the river. Exhausted, he stopped and sat on an overturned crate. He looked at his two guards, seeing they were just as worn out as he was. Betram took a few of his remaining coins and passed them to the men, waving them off to go find food and drink for themselves while he tried to think. Though they were reluctant to leave him, the old man was insistent.

  Betram leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. How everything could have changed so quickly made his mind reel. He prayed silently that the asashis had all managed to make it out of Takrah and were well on their way to their home tribes. He knew Danier had little reason to go after the women. With them scattered to the various corners of the empire, they would pose no threat to him.

  Danier was the type to keep a personal vendetta, however. If there was anyone he was going to pursue, it would be Betram himself. In fact, every time a large group came over the bridge, he would stop and watch, certain it would be Danier coming for him.

  Betram supposed it was only a matter of time before that very thing did happen, though. He had to find someone to guide him away from the area they were in. He begged his assorted gods to send such a person.

  “You look like someone who has lost all hope,” said a man in Sadori.

  Betram slowly lifted his head, noticing the shadow of a man had fallen over him. “The very feeling I’ve sadly imposed on many of my countrymen who live on this side of the bridge.”

  Etras crouched down to be on the old man’s level. As the former Minister of Trade, he recognized him easily enough. “Emperor Betram, I’d heard rumors you’d arrived here.”

  He gave a slow nod, standing up. His eyes lit up with recognition. “Etras! Is it truly you?”

  Despite his past misgivings toward the man before him, Etras offered up a shallow bow of respect.

  Betram clasped his hands together, faint hope igniting within him. “I have no right to ask for your help, but I have nowhere else to turn.”

  The younger man offered a smile. He and his wife turned away no Sadori in need, even the emperor himself. “Come with me.”

  Betram nodded eagerly. “Where?”

  “To my home. We have much to discuss, and you look like a man who could use a good meal, yes?” Etras motioned with his hands, offering up a genuine smile.

  * * *

  While Mari generally preferred to camp in the open during her travels, she’d opted for an inn on their first night for Garhan’s sake. His emotional state throughout the day had clearly left him drained, and giving him a reprieve from being outdoors for the night seemed the kindest course of action.

  It was a tiny place along the trade route north. Made up of a single communal sleeping room, Mari and Garhan had taken up a small bed nearest the fireplace. Luckily for
them, they were the only patrons for the night as few yet dared to travel on the muddy roads.

  Mari lay on her stomach, Garhan sitting beside her and rubbing her back. There were hard tendril-like structures winding around her spine and through the muscles of her back. He’d noticed them months ago, and she’d simply speculated they were bunches of scar tissue from her accumulated injuries. Still, he worked slowly and gently, trying to help her relax enough to sleep. She’d already smoked a pipe of meadow wort, but the pain was bad enough that she’d still been restless.

  “I’m not certain whom this trip is going to be harder on,” he said, fingertips slowly kneading against the bare skin of her back.

  “You did better today than I thought you would,” she admitted, eyes closed.

  “Once we were moving, being preoccupied with staying on the horse and the soreness in my rear helped distract me.” Garhan smiled to himself. “We’ve made it far enough that going back would be a hassle.”

  “We’ve made it far enough that if you opted to turn back, I wouldn’t go. You’d be on your own.”

  He knew she wasn’t joking. “I’ll make it. If one day didn’t kill me, the rest won’t.”

  Mari snorted and winced.

  Garhan felt one of the ropey structures in her back move, and he pulled away quickly. “What was that?”

  “A twinge of pain,” she replied, carefully moving to roll over. “You did nothing wrong.”

  He debated whether or not to say something about what he’d felt, but held his tongue. It had probably been nothing more than a muscle spasm, his stressed state only making it feel like something unnatural had moved under her skin.

  Seeing the look he wore, she set a hand on his thigh. “What is it? I’m fine.”

  Garhan stared down at her bare torso, placing a hand on her stomach. “This is the first time we’ve truly been alone in quite a while. Even when we’re in our room in the castle, there are others always nearby. It’s a strange feeling.”

  She nudged her hand a little higher up his leg. “Then we should make the most of it.”

  * * *

  With as much time as Athan had spent in the castle during Turis Lee’s reign, he knew most of its secrets. There were multiple assorted hiding places throughout its walls and furnishings that he’d found. How Keiran’s mother had always kept the sword secreted away from him he’d never quite figured out.

  As he’d said, however, Keiran wasn’t Ilana. He would find someplace he thought was well hidden, and most likely it would be from any ordinary person.

  Athan wasn’t ordinary, though.

  If Sabetha had ever seen Keiran put the sword anywhere, it would have been a simple matter of going and collecting it from where she told him it was. When the younger vampire had hidden or moved the weapon, though, it had never occurred when the harpy had been watching.

  He’d spent the better part of the day snaking through the walls of the castle, deciding he would scour every inch of stonework in the building first. Being able to physically infiltrate the walls made it far easier than it would otherwise have been.

  He’d started in the dungeon and worked his way up. By the time he reached the upper levels, night had fallen several hours before. Activity in the building was winding down, but Kanan and the other guards were on high alert, all the corridors and rooms being swept at regular intervals.

  His frustration grew, however. With only the King’s Armory left to examine, he began to wonder if Keiran had managed to find a good place for the weapon after all. Surely, the younger vampire wouldn’t have been so obvious as to have stowed the weapon inside the armory itself.

  …but it was Keiran.

  Athan wound his way around the room’s walls, finding several voids within. Most were empty while others held items long since forgotten. It was likely Keiran didn’t even know most of the hiding spots within. Certainly, Turis Lee wouldn’t have bothered passing on such knowledge to his son before his death.

  What is this?

  Athan found yet another void in the wall, this one holding something promising.

  There was a crack and a loud thud as the stone concealing the cubby he’d infiltrated shattered and was pushed from its place in the wall. Black ooze spilled forth from the opening, the sword box flowing out with it. The small fireplace within the room as well as all of the candles and lamps nearby suddenly ignited, filling the room with warm light.

  Athan formed upward from the puddle, holding the long box out before him. His lips curled into a thin smile as he walked over to a table and set it down.

  The faint smell of Ilana’s grave still lingered on the box, and he scoffed. “Keiran wasn’t merely toying with me when he’d said they buried it with you? Clever, Ilana. Very clever. Even in death you amuse, and the boy seems to have inherited your sense of humor.”

  His hands shook with anticipation as he nimbly flipped open the latches of the box. Athan bowed his head and took a deep breath before opening the lid, hoping dearly that he’d found what he’d been looking for.

  * * *

  Having spent the entire day patrolling the castle, Kanan was exhausted. While he knew Athan was present, neither being able to feel nor see him made his constant sweeps seem pointless. However, his sense of duty wouldn’t allow him to quit.

  He came to a stop in a corridor, hearing a crash. Kanan took a guess as to where it had come from, and he went over and placed an ear against the door to the armory. Knowing that Keiran was downstairs and the only one with a key, his heart sank.

  “Keir, you didn’t…” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes and straining to hear inside.

  A single, triumphant yelp came from within the room.

  Kanan reached down and checked the handle, finding the door locked as it should have been. He stepped back and prepared to kick the door inward, fear boiling up within him.

  Athan felt the old guard outside and heard his attempt to open the door. He lifted his free hand and waved it back toward the entryway, causing the door to swing inward just as Kanan moved to kick it in.

  The guard stumbled forward, barely managing to catch himself from falling. Kanan righted himself and drew his sword, a chill running down his spine.

  The vampire stood there, holding the unsheathed sword in his hand. A cat-like grin played across his lips, his eyes wide with excitement. “Look what I found!”

  Kanan tried to judge the distance from where he stood to the sword, wondering if he was too close to the toxic blade. He’d made the mistake of touching it once after it was given to him before Ilana’s death. Though it had been a light, brief touch, the skin on his fingers had blistered within hours. He’d hidden the injury during the several weeks it took to heal, ashamed at his own stupidity. Seeing it now in the hands of someone so untrustworthy did nothing for Kanan’s confidence.

  Still, he had a duty to perform and gave his order. “Put that down. You know I can’t allow you to leave here with it.”

  “And you know that there is nothing you can do to stop me, Kanan,” Athan replied, taking a small step forward. “I know your pride won’t allow you to back down though, will it?”

  Kanan stood his ground, yelling back over his shoulder to get the attention of the others. When he turned forward again, Athan stood immediately before him, the blade held directly between their faces. Kanan didn’t flinch, scowling and feeling the ambient heat the blade emitted.

  Athan cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. Though he knew the old man to be steadfast, he’d expected some retreat given the blade’s properties. “It will kill you, Kanan.”

  The old man’s eyes panned toward the open doorway, hearing Jerris and Keiran running up the stairs. While he knew it wouldn’t harm Keiran, he didn’t want his son rushing in and being put at risk.

  Athan huffed and turned his sights toward the door as well, curious to see how Keiran would react to the situation.

  When the younger men appeared, Kanan lifted up a hand toward them. “Jerris! Sta
y out! He has the sword!”

  Despite his father’s warning, Jerris continued to charge forward. Seeing Kanan so close to Athan filled him with immediate dread. His advance was stopped, however, by Keiran grabbing his arm and pulling him to a halt in the doorway.

  Jerris turned to Keiran, eyes wild. “What do we do?”

  Keiran stared at Athan, loosening his grip on his friend. “I have to go in there. Don’t get any closer to that sword!”

  The corner of Athan’s mouth ticked upward. He wondered exactly what Keiran thought he was going to do. He moved away from Kanan and closer to the door.

  Keiran advanced, pulling his rapier free with his left hand. He gave a nervous glance at Kanan, hoping he’d not been close to the sword long enough to suffer negative consequences. “Get out.”

  Kanan slowly began to side step around the perimeter of the room, making his way toward the door, his attention not leaving the two vampires.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to find this,” Athan said, admiring the blade as he casually moved closer to Keiran. “To hide it in this room of all places…”

  “Still took you all day to find it,” Keiran shot back, fangs visible. He didn’t turn to look, but he felt Kanan make it out of the room and into the corridor with Jerris.

  Athan shrugged in response before taking a more aggressive posture. “Now, for a small lesson in what I mean about consequences and payback.”

  Keiran halted and held his rapier out before him. Though his anger was riled, genuine fear crept into him from being on the wrong side of his mother’s sword.

  Athan’s pleasure with the situation grew, sensing Keiran’s worry. “You should be afraid. There isn’t much that can do us real damage, but this surely can. You have no idea how long it took me to recover from that little incident in Minar.”

  Keiran’s grip around his rapier’s handle tightened to the point the blade trembled slightly before him. Without anything to stop Athan from using his magic, he knew he was in a losing situation.

  The elder vampire’s expression went deadpan, and he lashed out with the blade, curious to see how it felt to use.