The Phoenix Prince: Royal Blood, #1

By Kristen Gupton

A vampire has never been a hero in their land, but now one is their only hope.

 

The king is dead, but Prince Keiran has no desire to take his place. All he wants is the freedom to pursue the woman he loves. His status makes that illegal, and the widespread rumors of his vampirism aren't helping. Still, the country is in the death throes of economic collapse, and Keiran is the only one who can rescue it.

 

His father's top advisor publicly opposes Keiran under the guise of wanting to save their nation from the fate of other vampire-controlled realms. However, his real motivations are far from heroic. He rose to power by killing those who challenged him, and he's one murder away from stealing Keiran's birthright.

 

After twenty-three years of abstinence from human blood, Keiran is in no condition to fight his demon-summoning rival. However, the alternative is death and the country falling under the spell of his opponent's black magic. Though Keiran doesn't want to be king, he's always been a patriot, and he will do whatever it takes to save his nation—if he can survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristen Gupton
• Release date: Dec 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781507084441

Book preview

Chapter One

THOUGH RUMORS OF PRINCE Keiran Sipesh’s vampirism were plentiful, claiming he was a member of the cursed undead, he’d never died. Not that the rumors were entirely untrue, but he was most certainly alive. At twenty-three, however, the persistent aches throughout his body made the prospect of living for hundreds of years abysmal.

He lingered before his room’s window, staring at the courtyard below. Morning had come and gone, and while he stood dressed, he hadn’t achieved anything else.

Someone gave a quick but firm knock on his door. He turned as the latch jiggled.

Keir, open this!

I’m up, Corina. I’m all right. He opened the door, offering a lopsided smile, no fangs visible despite hushed claims to the contrary.

Heavy set and getting on in years, his personal attendant easily brushed past him. Lines of worry marked her face. You missed breakfast. I kept something out for you, but you know how the king gets when you don’t follow his schedule.

I need more sleep than a man his age, Keiran replied, pushing his dark locks from his face.

You’re not a child, easily forgiven for sleeping all day, Keir, she said, shaking out his blanket before pulling it flat over half of the mattress. I know you don’t feel well, but staying in won’t help.

Keiran shuffled around the bed to tug the blanket straight on the side opposite to her. Being downstairs near my father doesn’t help, either.

She straightened and glanced at the open door before meeting his gaze. Though he doesn’t make you feel better, the later you wait, the worse he gets.

He won’t pay attention to me today. The harvest totals are due. He’s preoccupied with calculating how much gold he can squeeze out of the farmers this season.

She eyed the door again, her shoulders rounding. That explains why there’s been no tantrum regarding your absence yet.

No one woke me up, so I wasn’t missed that badly.

You had a rough day yesterday, Keir. And I know you were likely up drinking late with Jerris. While I don’t condone that, I have some sympathy.

He offered her a smile, moving around the bed. If it makes you feel any better, I bathed before dressing.

I’m certain everyone appreciates that, she said, closing the distance between them.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. I promise to eat before I get to whatever everyone else has planned for me today.

She waved him off. Fine, get to it.

He exited the room, slouching as he headed toward the stairs. The smile he’d forced for Corina’s sake faded. While the trip down the keep’s stairwell wasn’t terribly long, he stopped at the bottom, bracing an arm against the wall. The descent left the muscles of his legs burning and his lungs aching for air.

There he is.

Keiran spotted Jerris heading toward him, the redhead walking with his usual swagger. Was I keeping you from something?

The guard shook his head, leaning a shoulder against the wall. No, but my father asked where you were hiding. You supposedly made an appointment with him.

Keiran’s eyes widened, and he pushed away from the wall. Oh, God, I did. I told him midday outside of the castle walls.

Get on that. I’ll keep him occupied long enough for you to escape, Jerris said.

If I go without you escorting me, he’ll be upset with both of us.

The guard smirked. He’s already upset with you, and he’s always disappointed in me.

Fair point. I’ll get my sword belt, Keiran replied, turning toward the stairs.

I’ll get it for you. Jerris went past him, heading up. Get your horse. Don’t let him see you along the way. He’s in the guardhouse obsessing over the schedule again.

Keiran watched him leave. He gave passing thought to eating something to keep his promise to Corina, but decided against it. Fleeing the keep before either the king or Jerris’ father tracked him down was more important.

He exited, descending the keep’s steps as fast as he could manage. The courtyard was busy, as castle staff and assorted merchants conducted their business. He made the walk to the stable with his head down, doing his best to hide from view.

Once at the stable, he slipped within. His eyes needed to adjust, the heavy scent of the horses filling the air. At the stable’s far end, a large black horse hung his head over his stall door. His attention turned toward Keiran, and he gave a rumbling snort at his owner’s arrival.

Someone else was within, though. Before his horse’s stall stood a young woman near his own age. Her eyes were wide, her hand slowly dropping from the horse’s neck.

Keiran managed another smile, but this one was genuine. Am I interrupting?

Thana shook her head, averting her gaze. I was just visiting the horses, Your Highness.

He winced at the formal address, but his childhood days of being spoken to like her peer were gone. I’m certain they appreciate the company.

She offered a meek shrug. I should go.

Keiran wanted to say something as she hurried toward him. His throat tightened, though, and he stepped aside without a word. He watched her retreat before facing his horse.

The horse let out a sigh, his ears forward.

Keiran shrugged and went to his stall. I know, Porter. Remember when she liked me?

The horse offered no answer, only stepping back so Keiran could open his stall door.

A whistle cut through the air, and he spun toward the entry. Jerris stood there, leaning Keiran’s rapier inside the doors.

Can you get him ready alone? Jerris asked.

Aye.

The guard nodded. All right. I’ll keep the old man busy long enough for you to escape.

KEIRAN STOOD IN THE wide meadow outside of the castle’s walls. His green eyes closed, the frigid rain striking his face in welcomed contrast to the flush of sickness washing over him. The effort of getting his horse saddled and ridden past the castle gates had taxed him.

Mountain pines surrounded the clearing, the wind producing a dull whine through their needles. Over it, Keiran heard the plod of hooves. They were slow and heavy, with an irregular fourth beat—the unmistakable gait of his mentor’s horse.

He drew in a long breath and stood tall. The prince dredged up a smile and turned. I thought you’d forgotten.

Kanan grunted and dropped from the saddle, his boots hitting the wet ground with a satisfying squish. He tied his horse’s reins to the same fallen log as Keiran’s mount. I don’t suffer from the lapses of memory afflicting most my age, Keir, but I’m slower than I used to be. Still, I’m fairly certain we agreed to do this at midday, and you’re late. Jerris didn’t accompany you, so he could keep me from noticing your escape. Leaving the castle without a guard isn’t allowed.

Tell the gate sentries to do better. I had no trouble leaving unescorted.

They’ll hear about it. Now, why are we out in this weather? We could’ve done this behind the castle walls.

A change of terrain, Keiran said. There’s no guarantee my potential future conflicts will occur in a cobblestoned courtyard or a walled bailey.

Kanan’s expression offered nothing as he moved away from the horses. He stopped before the prince and crossed his thick arms over his chest.

Keiran met his cold stare, his brows slowly rising. Kanan saw right into him, and he didn’t like it.

You wanted us out here, so you’d have no audience, Kanan said. You don’t want others seeing how fast you’re beaten down, too weak to even raise your damned weapon.

The remaining traces of Keiran’s smile vanished, gaze averting. He pushed the wet tendrils of hair from his face. The rain, welcomed only moments before, grew oppressive. Though he was taller than Kanan, he felt small, his shoulders rounding.

Let’s go get you in front of the fire. You’re not up to this, Kanan said, his expression softening.

No.

Keir, honestly...

The prince’s left hand moved to his rapier’s hilt, drawing it with a well-practiced flourish. He widened his stance and fixed his eyes on Kanan. However, the tip of his rapier trembled. Try as he might, the end of the blade slowly sank, his entire arm shaking as he struggled to maintain his pose. His cheeks darkened with the effort, eyes narrowing as the muscles of his shoulder and arm ignited and cramped.

Kanan stepped closer, easily pushing the blade away. He studied Keiran and offered a single shake of his head.

Keiran’s jaw tensed, and he spun away, hurling his rapier to the ground. With the sword out of his hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated it, all of it. He’d done all he could to keep his growing weakness hidden, but Kanan and Corina knew him too well. A lump formed in his throat.

Kanan dropped a heavy hand onto the prince’s shoulder. While I admire your drive to push yourself, you can’t afford it anymore.

Don’t start this.

You don’t fool me or anyone else. We all see how sick you are. You’re too ill for this. You haven’t even gone on a deer hunt in the last two seasons.

Perhaps I wanted to, Keiran said. I was just waiting for the weather to clear.

This is Tordania, Keir. The weather never clears.

Keiran’s hand fell to his side, and he turned, weakly laughing. I know.

Lord Vercilla warned us what would happen if you didn’t start taking human blood. You are suffering the consequences, and it’ll only worsen.

I have no desire to do so.

You’re lying.

Keiran frowned. It doesn’t matter. The king forbids it, and if he knew you were pushing me toward it again, you know the punishment you’d face.

Punishment be damned! I can’t bear watching you waste away like this.

As much as I wish I was, I’m not your son, so you can’t make my decisions. The king’s will must be obeyed, Keiran said. We know the consequences of defying him. I’ve pushed my luck enough in recent years. Angering him and ending up in the dungeon again won’t help matters. Having you suffer any repercussions for it would only worsen things.

Kanan scowled and parted his lips to reply, but he turned away as galloping hoofbeats broke through the sounds of the growing storm.

The prince leaned to see around Kanan, spotting Jerris riding toward them. Did you invite him?

No. I told him to stay behind once I saw through his ploy to delay me. We needed to have a serious conversation, and Jerris makes that impossible.

Huh. Keiran took a few steps forward. Does my father need me back to blame for something?

Jerris pulled the reins, his horse’s hooves skidding on the wet grass. He switched his gaze between his father and Keiran a few times. The horse, agitated from the short run, refused to stand still beneath him, clacking its teeth against the bit.

Something twisted in Keiran’s chest, seeing Jerris’ expression lacked its usual friendliness. What’s wrong?

The redhead drew a long breath and fixed his sights on the prince. A ruddy flush overtook his freckled cheeks and nose. Keir, your father has fallen.

How badly this time? Keiran asked. He’s usually not drunk until evening.

Jerris frowned and shook his head. No, I mean he—he’s dead. Stood from the throne and immediately dropped.

Keiran’s jaw went slack, an electric jolt coursing down his spine. He remained rooted in place, unable to offer any reaction.

Go on! Get back to the castle! Kanan said, shoving Keiran toward the horses.

He offered a dumb nod and did as told, his thoughts swirling. His hands shook, numb in his shock, but he untied his horse’s reins. With a dump of adrenaline in his blood fueling him, he pulled his lean frame into the saddle.

Reins in hand, he turned his horse and gave a quick cluck of his tongue, signaling Porter into an explosive gallop. The horse sprinted toward the castle, large chunks of mud flying in his wake.

THE MURMURS OF CONVERSATION filling the throne room ceased, the echo of hooves on the stone floor drawing everyone’s attention. Keiran stooped in the saddle while passing through the entryway, having ridden his horse right up the stairs and into the keep.

He pulled his horse to a stop and remained in the saddle. Those amassed blocked his view of the fallen king’s body, and he wasn’t eager to get a better look.

The crowd’s stares dug at him. He dismounted with a reluctant sigh. The spectators parted before him, offering a glimpse of King Turis Lee Sipesh’s body.

King Turis Lee remained exactly where he’d fallen. No one had rushed to his aid. He’d conditioned everyone for decades not to touch him. Even the castle’s physician stood back at a respectable distance.

The dead king lay face down across the three stairs leading to the throne. The top of his balding head was already bluish-purple, not its familiar shade of anger-flushed red. His corpulent body had slid after the fall, only stopping when his head and right shoulder struck the floor below the stairs.

Keiran knelt beside the body. A knot formed in his gut, but not in grief. It was revulsion. No one else dared approach the body, though, leaving him to the task.

The prince gnashed his teeth and rolled the king’s body onto its back, but it was no simple task, as Turis Lee outweighed most by threefold. Still, Keiran succeeded, though it left him struggling for breath.

The old man’s face offered nothing, his open eyes bulging from the pressure of his feet being elevated over his head. His pupils were wide, gazing blindly past Keiran toward the ceiling. An already drying streamlet of blood stained his lips, the last of his remaining teeth knocked loose when his face had bashed against the unrelenting stone stairs.

Keiran reluctantly felt the king’s neck under the curtain of flesh hanging from his chin. His skin was clammy. Keiran’s fingers likely never found the king’s carotid artery, but it didn’t matter. There was no pulse. Death claimed the old man before he’d hit the floor.

The prince stood, turning his attention toward the court physician. Laron?

He stepped forward, his expression neutral as he looked down at the body sprawled between them. There’s nothing I could have done, you know. He was seventy-eight and in horrible shape. I’ve told him for years his heart would explode in his constant rage someday. That day has come.

You don’t seem particularly troubled by it, Keiran said.

Are you?

No.

Laron nodded. Despite my misgivings for him, there aren’t any measures I could’ve taken to change the outcome.

Keiran nodded. Knowing none of us will suffer at his hands again is enough. My destiny of ensuring Tordania remained under a Sipesh’s rule has come to pass.

No, it hasn’t! a voice called out. You don’t immediately take the throne! Not until I tend to matters!

Keiran turned, seeing his father’s grand councillor shoving his way roughly past those in his path.

Grand Councillor Peirte Methaius wasn’t an imposing man in stature or width, his anorexic frame obscured by the dark robes he wore. Still, the mere touch of his hands made those he moved by recoil, quickly giving him access to the king’s body. Even the prince’s horse instinctively sidestepped as Peirte moved by.

Peirte’s disproportionately small eyes narrowed as he approached the king’s body, assessing the situation. He swept down in a fluid motion to check the king for a pulse of his own accord. He sighed and rose, eyeing Keiran and the physician. And the two of you stand here doing nothing?

He was dead before I arrived, Keiran said.

The grand councillor waved dismissively at the prince, his scraggly black mane casting his face into shadow as he glowered at Laron. Doctor, to what length did you go to save our king?

He was dead before he hit the floor, Laron said. A man of his age dying is hardly a novelty.

He was only a decade older than me! Peirte shot back. Your job was to see to his health!

He was nearly eighty, Laron replied, his tone even. Even the best doctors cannot stop the inevitable. If anyone could guarantee immortality, they’d be impossibly popular.

Peirte huffed. Well, unlike our prince, I suppose our king was very much mortal. Death is inevitable in the natural order for normal people.

The first pangs of rage stirred within Keiran. The grand councillor’s sentiments toward him weren’t new. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw setting. While he’d always held his tongue around the grand councillor in the king’s presence, the king was dead, and the grand councillor would soon be unemployed.

Grand Councillor, Keiran said.

Peirte disregarded him, turning his eyes out toward the servants amassed. I want his body removed immediately!

Grand Councillor...

He continued ignoring the prince. And someone get that damned horse out of the castle!

Grand Councillor!

Peirte extended an arm back toward the prince as he wound up to give more orders.

Keiran yanked Peirte’s outstretched arm, forcibly spinning him around.

Peirte squeaked, body going rigid.

Keiran leaned in close. Your job, Peirte, is to go to the cathedral and inform the priests of my father’s passing to set the funeral rites in motion. Afterward, you’ll get the process for my ascension rites started. That is the extent of your duties. Do you understand?

His eyes widened, and he wrenched his arm free. How dare you touch me!

Do you understand? Keiran repeated.

The grand councillor’s scowl gave way to an insincere smile. He stepped back, offering a shallow bow. I understand perfectly.

Good. Now, go, Keiran ordered.

Peirte switched his gaze between the prince and Laron before turning and marching back through the crowd.

Keiran watched him leave before climbing the stairs to the throne. He sat heavily, disregarding the significance of taking the seat for the first time. Instead, he leaned back and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the king’s body any longer. Someone really should take him away before he ruins the floor.

There was a gasp from a servant standing within earshot. Keiran opened his eyes, spotting Thana. His cheeks burned. Of all the people, it had to be her. I meant the horse.

She offered a hasty nod before hurrying to lead the horse out.

Keiran’s eyes closed again, and he pressed his hands against his temples. An unwelcomed but familiar scraping sensation began inside his skull, behind his right eye. He growled. The young woman’s reaction had made a worse impact on him than the event of the old king’s death or the grand councillor’s actions.

He listened as activity picked up in the room, and the crowd thinned. He heard Laron talking with someone as they wrapped the king’s body in a blanket before removing it. Other quiet conversations drifted through the air, but he blocked them out. The pain grew quickly in his head, making the ambient sounds and conversations around him more abrasive than they should’ve been. It wouldn’t be long before the headache compelled him to hide in his darkened room, alone. Under the circumstances, however, finding solitude was unlikely.

His eyes only opened when he heard the long-vacant queen’s throne creak beside him.

Jerris sat there, not concerned with his lack of decorum by the looks of it. Are you all right?

No.

Headache again?

Aye. Keiran scanned the room, his eyes down to slits. What am I supposed to do?

Become the king, as is your destiny?

No, not that, Keiran said. My father spent the last sixty years tearing this country apart. How in the hell am I supposed to fix it?

You’re older and wiser, you tell me.

Keiran slowly blinked. By a mere four days, Jerris. I’m hardly a political genius.

I’m only a guard, Keir. I don’t have any answers.

The prince snorted. You’ve been raised at my side and suffered through most of the lessons I endured.

Only to be next to you as my father groomed me to be your personal guard and future King’s Knight. They hardly expected me to remember anything. It was all insufferably boring.

You’re smarter than you let others believe, Keiran said. You want everyone to think you’re stupid, so they don’t ask too much of you, but it’s not the truth.

Jerris smirked. Well, I’ll admit your father set this country back a century by banning those steam-powered mills and taxing our steel production into near oblivion.

Pain in his head or not, Keiran smiled. You were paying attention.

A bit. Isn’t there supposedly still a steam engine beneath the cathedral?

To run the organ bellows, but it’s been idle for the entirety of my father’s reign, Keiran said. The smiths who made them are all dead.

Banned or not, they wouldn’t die without passing that knowledge to someone, would they? Jerris asked.

I’ve heard rumors other nations have the technology now. I can only guess how far they’ve taken it. My father limited my education. He didn’t want me learning certain things.

To what end?

I don’t know. Maybe he hoped I wouldn’t see what a dismal failure he’d been? I fear he gave our technology to Lord Vercilla, though. He’s always seemed interested in advancement while my father rejected it.

Jerris stood, eyeing the small bloodstain on the stairs. The color quickly drained from his complexion, and he faced Keiran. Speaking of Lord Vercilla, how long until he arrives now that your father is dead?

The last thing we need is that bastard crawling around, meddling in our affairs.

You can order him away now, though, Jerris said. Your father is no longer here to swoon over him.

Aye, I can, Keiran agreed. He won’t take it well, though, and I’m in no shape to fight him. Perhaps I’ll ask him some questions that my father forbade, though.

About Turis Lee allowing Lord Vercilla to infect you?

Keiran nodded. While he claimed it was to ensure I survived my infancy and the Mother’s Plague, there’s more to it. And there’s the mystery surrounding my mother’s identity. Athan was around then. He damned-well knows who she was.

...and you honestly think he’ll tell you? Jerris asked.

If not, perhaps others will be more forthcoming now that my father can’t threaten them, Keiran said.

Jerris raised his brows. They’d likely be a better source of information than Lord Vercilla. He’s not the easiest person to hold a conversation with. He just beats the hell out of you when you try.

Keiran stood before descending the dais stairs, Jerris following. The guard grabbed Keiran’s shoulder, bringing him to a halt in the room’s center.

Keiran turned. What?

Lord Vercilla aside, Keir, you need to keep your eye on Peirte, Jerris said. He’s not letting his position of power slip away too easily.

I silenced him before your arrival, Keiran admitted. He tried to take over, but I got him to leave temporarily. I don’t trust him.

My father is holding a meeting with the other guards. He’s worried.

Keiran nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor. Well, I’m not in the best shape, but I can still defeat an old man like Peirte. He’s hardly a beast like Kanan.

Jerris didn’t offer a verbal response, his lips tensing against one another.

Keiran lifted his sights and saw that. What? You don’t think I can still best someone like Peirte?

While you once trounced everyone except my father, those days are long past, Jerris replied. I know you don’t enjoy dwelling on it, but it’s true. The last time I teased you about lusting after Thana, and we got into one of our scuffs, I knocked you out cold without trying to.

You merely dazed me.

No, Keir, you were out, lying in a heap on the kitchen floor. I was terrified I’d killed you. Can you imagine what would’ve happened to me if anyone had seen it?

The prince averted his gaze. Well, as my personal guard, I suppose it’s your time to shine and refrain from harming me..

I’ll do what I can,