The Lost Duke

by Kristen Gupton

  With Victri’s blade just a few inches from Adira, his advance stopped as though he’d hit a wall. His body collapsed straight down, and his severed head hit the floor with a grotesque thud before rolling a short distance.

  All eyes immediately landed upon Stepan, still standing with his sword gripped firmly in both hands before him, the center of its blade streaked with red.

  The guard looked down at Victri’s decapitated body, and he slowly allowed his sword to fall from his hands and to the floor. He’d never held any positive sentiments for the advisor, but he’d never before had to kill anyone. There simply hadn’t been that sort of trouble within the palace since he’d taken the job.

  The guards who’d been waiting outside pushed inward with their own weapons drawn, but Adira rushed toward them with her hands raised. “Stop!”

  They halted, several of them looking to see Victri’s decapitated form. Many of them voiced protests about her remaining in the house any further, however, she wasn’t willing to leave.

  “We need some time alone in here! All of you, out!” she demanded, stomping a foot against the floor.

  The guards hesitated, not yet willing to leave. An attempt had just been made on the queen’s life, and they all feared what would happen if another such event were to take place.

  Stepan shook his head and moved past Adira, looking at the men he’d commanded until so recently. “Adira is safe, I’m in here. Victri was the only threat, now please, get out.”

  While they worked to get the guards back out of the room, Kanan and Jerris moved closer to Keiran. None of them were certain where they stood with Adira, but after their brief relationship with Victri, they were sure the dead advisor hadn’t been a good man.

  Keiran turned to face his guards. “Stepan didn’t hesitate at all.”

  “Even after she threw him in the dungeon,” Jerris added.

  “I didn’t trust him from the outset,” Kanan said, motioning toward the body.

  Keiran sighed and shook his head. “You were right not to.”

  Jerris pulled his eyes from the gore before it made him ill. “Well, he won’t be much help now.”

  “No, he will.” Keiran scanned around, looking for the nearest plate or cup to collect Victri’s blood in for Garhan.

  Garhan didn’t opt to wait for them. Silently, and using the last hints of strength he possessed, he slid himself from the couch and down to the edge of the growing red puddle on the floor. Though he was too shriveled to properly lap up or otherwise drink from the thin layer of blood, he was determined to try.

  The three Tordanians turned, taking notice of Garhan’s motions. Keiran quickly saw how futile Garhan’s attempt to drink was, and he knelt down beside him.

  Keiran looked up at Jerris. “Grab one of the cups from the floor.”

  The redhead nodded, glad to have any excuse to look away from Garhan’s jerking movements as he struggled. He found an empty teacup and picked it up before tossing it over.

  Keiran reached up with his left hand and caught the cup before putting it to what was left of Victri’s neck. It didn’t take long for the small cup to fill.

  Garhan was scratching blindly at the floor, continuing to try for anything he could. He wasn’t even completely conscious of the actions he made, his body being driven solely on instinct.

  Adira finally turned back around from her guards and put her hands over her mouth when she saw Garhan’s tortured movements. There was a peculiar, alien horror in watching him, her mind struggling with the fact he could still be alive and moving despite what he looked like.

  Keiran carefully moved to force Garhan away from the puddle, cradling him in his arms so he could offer the cup toward his mouth.

  Garhan initially struggled, though ineffectively, when pulled away from the blood on the floor. He settled back, however, once the contents of the cup started to trickle into his mouth.

  Everyone went silent and watched, Keiran lifting his gaze toward Kanan. “Get more cups, fill as many as you can.”

  Kanan nodded despite his inward revulsion and moved to comply. Jerris helped as well, though it set him into dry heaves, rolling Victri’s body onto its side to get more of the precious liquid to spill out. Soon, they had multiple cups setting at Keiran’s side.

  Garhan’s swallows were audible, producing a dry, papery sound. When the first cup was finished, Keiran took up the next and repeated the process until Garhan finally turned his head away. Afterward, he carefully placed Garhan back up onto the couch.

  Adira moved to Keiran’s side, looking down at her nephew. “Nothing has changed. You said it would help!”

  Keiran gave her a sidelong look. “Given how bad off he is, it may take a while.”

  “You didn’t get better until after you’d been killed.” Jerris’ expression darkened as he thought back. “Or, at least, until after I’d pulled the arrow from your heart.”

  Keiran’s cheeks lost color, his eyes fixing on the redhead. “I don’t want to have to do something like that to him.”

  Kanan came closer, too. “If that’s what it’s going to take, though, someone will have to kill him to save him.”

  Adira turned to look at the three men. “What in the world are you talking about? Kill him? I thought you wanted to save him!”

  “In my case, I had to be killed to recover.” Keiran looked over at her with raised brows.

  “This is madness.” Adira shook her head. “Absolute madness.”

  “You’re the one that put him into this situation.” The young king pointed at her. “That was madness.”

  Kanan sighed, not wanting to hear anymore bickering. He reached out and pulled the knife from his belt in a fluid movement. “The two of you won’t help the situation at all with more arguing. If he needs to be killed to improve, then let’s just get it over with.”

  Keiran spun to reach for Kanan. Though he believed it to be the logical course of action, given his own transformation, he wasn’t ready to see it happen. “Kanan!”

  The old man had moved out of easy reach, however. He held out the knife and lifted it up, preparing to plunge it downward into the center of Garhan’s chest. He, too, believed it would either spark his recuperation as a vampire, or simply kill him and put him out of his misery.

  Garhan had heard and processed the conversation. His eyes opened again, though, this time they weren’t as dried out and useless. While he was far from being able to see clearly, he saw Kanan looming over him, ready to strike down. Weakly, his arms came upward in a defensive pose, trying to ward off the impending blow.

  Kanan halted and lowered the knife, everyone falling silent and staring at Garhan.

  “Stop,” Garhan said, his voice quiet and airy.

  Keiran moved in and sat on the edge of the couch next to where Garhan lay, pushing Kanan back in the process. “You understand what’s going on?”

  Garhan gave a small nod, the tissues of his neck a little more pliable than they’d been before. “Water.”

  Jerris acted without further instruction. He turned and went back near the plates by the door, having noticed a few pitchers amongst them. He found one filled with water and he brought it over, passing it to Keiran.

  Garhan’s hands came out and intercepted it, though, and he struggled to sit up. Keiran helped, holding the pitcher up so he could drink from it. It took Garhan several minutes, but he finished the entire pitcher and asked for yet another.

  Jerris took the pitcher, looking to refill it from some of the other partially full vessels on the floor. When he returned, he was surprised at how much Garhan had already changed. His long, dried-out body was absorbing all the fluid he’d consumed like a sponge. His skin was growing more elastic, his eyes, though clouded, appearing almost normal.

  When he reached out for the next pitcher, his arms moved with more grace and certainty, not threatening to buckle under the weight of the full silver vessel. He brought it to his now-visible lips, drinking in large swallows. After finishing the
last of four pitchers, he lowered it down and looked at those surrounding him.

  Adira forced up her best smile and knelt down before him. “Garhan? Are you feeling better?”

  His eyes had taken back their normal shape and were clear, the irises an eerie teal shade. The whole of his body remained painfully thin, but he was much more substantial than the mummified corpse he’d been. He reached up a hand to rub at the top of his head, drawing it back quickly, surprised to find his hair missing.

  Garhan’s thin mouth pulled down into a frown as he met Adira’s gaze. “Better? Yes, but far from perfect.”

  “I was terribly worried. I didn’t know you’d fallen so ill,” she said, reaching out for his hand. The queen was far less afraid now that he looked more like he had before his imprisonment.

  Garhan withdrew his hand sharply and recoiled from her, brows knitting together. “Adira, I think it would be in your best interest to get out of my reach for the time being. I’ve heard everything that has been said, not that I hadn’t come up with my own conclusions about you long ago.”

  Her lips parted and color came to her cheeks as she stood up. Her eyebrows raised and she drew in a long breath. “I see. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much more.”

  “Indeed you shouldn’t have,” Garhan replied, turning his attention to the man sitting beside him. “As for you…”

  “I’m Keiran Sipesh, son of Ilana Aviatrov,” he said, pushing back the visceral reaction he had at realizing how much like Athan he looked.

  “She had a son with Turis Lee Sipesh? I never knew much of what became of her after she left.” Garhan looked down at his hands. “I only knew she’d gone to marry in Tordania. I was only ten years old when I last saw her.”

  Adira moved toward the back of the room near Stepan, retreating after her earlier humiliation. When she heard Garhan’s claim about seeing his mother, however, she scoffed and strode back several paces.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve inherited her insanity, Garhan!” Adira stopped just a short distance off. “Ilana never had anything to do with you! She never saw you following your birth! She’s the one that demanded you be sent away! She couldn’t even bear the sight of you!”

  Garhan drew in a breath and let it out with a rumbling growl as he slowly stood up. His legs shook underneath him, not having supported his weight in months. “That, Adira, isn’t true in the least.”

  “Of course it’s true! I was here, Garhan, and more than old enough to remember the events as they unfolded,” she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. Garhan stood taller than her, but she refused to back down to her nephew.

  “I know what she did, and I know why she did it, Adira.” Garhan wavered slightly and reached out to brace himself with a hand against Keiran’s shoulder. “I never discussed those events with you, knowing you’d made your mind up and that you would do anything to assure she couldn’t reclaim her rightful place in the line of succession.”

  “She hated you and wanted nothing to do with you!” Adira’s entire body started to shake in her rage. “My mother allowed you to return here when you began falling ill out of pity. I then kept you alive after my coronation only because you were the last link I had to Ilana, despite her shunning you! I was there for you more than she ever was!”

  “She didn’t hate me, Adira.” He let go of Keiran and took an unsteady step forward. His eyes flicked toward the open door, spotting her multitude of guards nearby. “She sent me away to protect me. She was only trying to keep me out of the reach of my father. She feigned her insanity afterward to purposefully get removed from the line of succession. She did it to make me of no use in my father’s plans.”

  “Your father’s plans? She never confessed who it even was!” Adira let her arms fall back to her sides, and she instinctively took a single step backward. “You are absolutely delusional!”

  “My father was Athan Vercilla, Adira,” Garhan said flatly. “That is a fact, no matter how much you wish to deny it.”

  “You don’t know that,” she whispered back, her cheeks absolutely crimson. “You could have been bitten at any point during your time living outside of the palace to explain your infection. As for Athan Vercilla, there’s no way he could have gotten into Aleria! She was raped by a wayward palace guard, nothing more!”

  Garhan gave a shake of his head. “No, I was sired by Athan Vercilla. My mother told me that many, many times.”

  Adira looked over at Stepan, seeing the guard’s relaxed posture. She tried to ease her own nerves afterward, supposing the guard would be more alert if she were in true danger. “You’re insane. You never saw Ilana, and she never spoke with you.”

  “For all the times she was allowed to go on retreats away from the palace, it never crossed your mind she came to see me?” Garhan asked, focusing solely on Adira. “It’s not as though I was raised very far away.”

  Keiran slowly rose up from the couch, quickly looking to Kanan and Jerris to make certain they were ready to act if needed. However, he wasn’t about to interrupt what was being discussed as it intrigued him. His already low opinion of his aunt was plummeting fast.

  The queen fell silent for several seconds, letting what he’d said sink in. The notion that Ilana had known the identity of her attacker all those years ago, but had conveyed that message only to Garhan, struck an odd chord. “If she did see you to tell you these things, how can you be certain she really knew who it was? How would she have known at that young an age? Do you not see what madness this all is? How can you possibly be so damn certain Athan Vercilla was the one?”

  Keiran cleared his throat and stepped between the two of them. He looked at Garhan before turning toward Adira. “Because he looks just like him.”

  She pressed her lips together until they blanched white, her eyes moving to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this sooner?”

  “Would you have believed me?” Garhan asked, head cocking to the side. “You wanted nothing to do with me. As soon as grandmother died and you were crowned, your first act was to lock me away in this house never to leave again. I knew you hated me, and I knew there was no point in discussing anything about my life or what I had gone through with you. You simply didn’t care. You had the throne, not Ilana, and that’s all that mattered to you.”

  Adira straightened up to her full height and smoothed down the front of her dress with her hands. Something clicked over in her head, and she immediately threw up a wall in her mind. Without another word, she offered Keiran a slight tip of her head before striding toward the door. “Come along, Stepan.”

  The guard hesitated where he stood. While he’d been willing to spare her life not long before, he hadn’t forgotten how she’d deceived him earlier and thrown him into the dungeon.

  “Where are you going?” Stepan asked, remaining in place.

  “Away from this. The group of you can figure out your next move together. I have nothing else to add to this situation,” she said, continuing toward the door. “If you remain, Stepan, you will have to live with the consequences.”

  The guard looked at Garhan, not going to follow the queen. “Garhan was my friend before his imprisonment. I owe him my help.”

  Adira made a frustrated sound. She moved out the doorway and amongst her other guards, only stopping to look back at the house once she was a good distance away from it.

  One of her men moved closer to her. “What are we going to do? Do you want us to take them all back to the dungeon?”

  Adira’s eyes narrowed and she thought for several tense moments. She’d been making poor decisions for far too long, and now she was facing the consequences of it. While Victri had been a wretched and self-serving person, he’d been right about a few things over the years. Hard decisions had to be made, and it was time for her to start making them.

  Finally, she met her guard’s eyes and gave her order. “Burn it down with them inside. Destroy all of it.”

  Chapter 6

  The guard who’d been sen
t to retrieve Sorna had stopped along the way and alerted the town’s sheriff, asking him to get word to the castle to send more guards. The sheriff had agreed, and he sent several of his deputies along with the guard to go track down Sorna.

  Sorna was in the main farmhouse preparing an early dinner when the knock came to the door. When she answered, the aging woman wasn’t surprised to see a member of the Royal Guard waiting on the other side.

  She’d been expecting someone from the castle to come along and tell her that Thana had been killed. However, the other men accompanying him she recognized from town, and she couldn’t imagine why they’d been sent along as well.

  “What is this all about?” she asked.

  His expression gave up no emotion. “I need you to come with me.”

  Sorna felt the unwelcomed pangs of anxiety. The encounter with the demon in the chicken coop had been foremost on her mind. She’d been torn afterward over what she’d asked the creature to do, but she’d been willing to do anything to spare her own life.

  She raised her eyebrows, her face and neck beginning to flush red. “Why? What has happened? What could you possibly want with me?”

  “We just need you to come with us to the cathedral,” he replied, taking a step forward and reaching out for her arm.

  Sorna recoiled back into the house. “For what reason?”

  “Come willingly, or I will drag you there if I must,” the guard said, growing frustrated. “We don’t have time for games.”

  * * *

  Thana, Corina, and Father Beezle had retreated to the back corner of his office. Even in the depths of the building as they were, they could hear the demon’s occasional screams, and the sounds of her climbing around the exterior of the massive structure. She was testing every possible spot for a means of entry into the building, but the priest’s spell was still holding her at bay.