The Phoenix Prince

by Kristen Gupton

  The old sorceress that had been teaching him eventually realized that Peirte was getting out of control. She’d always tried to impress upon him that the use of demons should be limited, and only used if the ends justified the means. He was cautioned that summoning altered the mind of the magic user, addicting them to the act of evocation.

  Though she taught the darker arts, the woman herself wasn’t inherently evil, but she saw that Peirte was. He was using the demons for self-promotion, and dismissing all of her warnings.

  When Peirte realized she was going to try and take him down, he publically accused her of black magic. He claimed to his followers that the old woman was the source of all the demon possessions he’d had to cure. Blinded by their fervor and loyalty, the entire town quickly went after her, disregarding her assertion that Peirte had been evoking the demons. The she was imprisoned and soon executed. Her entire estate was burned to the ground—but only after Peirte had walked through and took what he wanted for his own personal collection first.

  His ill-gotten reputation for vanquishing demons spread, and it wasn’t long before the head of the church in Tordan Lea got word of the priest’s alleged miraculous abilities. He was interviewed by the leadership in the church and was quickly promoted from a simple parish priest to an understudy at the cathedral, on his way to climbing the ranks within the organization. He put on a good show while working there, never letting on to what was really in his heart. He had continued to work on his magic in private, still too enthralled with the power it gave him to let it go. The demons slowly worsened his mental health.

  Eventually, King Turis Lee went looking to bring a new councillor into the castle. Peirte jumped at the chance and applied. After several interviews and assorted tests of his political and historical knowledge, Peirte was hired on as a minor councillor.

  He had no intention of staying at such a low rank for long. At night, he used his demon evocation to send out minions to act as spies, collecting information that he could use against the other councillors. One by one, he ruined lives and reputations, working his way up over the years to become the king’s grand councillor. Along the road, there were also several unexplained deaths amongst some of the councillors that failed to provide Peirte with good reasons to have them removed from power alive. Obtaining such a high ranking at his then age of thirty-seven was quite a feat, but no one suspected how he’d honestly managed to get there. Peirte’s secret nightly workings had never been discovered. Though everyone in the castle detested the man, none of them really knew what went on behind closed doors.

  He would be damned if all that work now was going to be for nothing. There was no way that Keiran would let him stay after the coronation, and Peirte was not going to start over again somewhere else at his age.

  The carriage finally stopped before the massive stone edifice, and he didn’t wait for the driver to come around and get his door. He threw it open, stormed out of the carriage and marched up to the cathedral’s enormous timber doors. The sentries outside quickly bowed, recognizing the councillor. He gave them little acknowledgement as they pulled the doors open for him.

  Without hesitation, he strode through the main portion of the building and off down a corridor, knowing exactly where the head priest’s office was. He didn’t bother to knock, just throwing the latch to the study and shoving the door open before him.

  The small, elderly man sitting behind the desk at the far end of the room jumped up, eyes wide at the sudden intrusion. He pulled his reading spectacles from his nose and set them aside, trying to calm down. “Councillor, you startled me. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here.”

  He grunted and moved forward in long strides, before seating himself into a chair in front of the priest’s desk without ceremony. When he’d been a priest himself, the man behind the desk, Father Randall Beezle, had already been the head of the church for a time. Back then, he’d forced himself to put up his best front for the little man. Now, as grand councillor, and with his mind utterly poisoned from all of his years summoning demons, Peirte didn’t bother with any pleasantries. Being kind to Randall back in the past had simply been a necessary indignity on his way up.

  “I have rather grave news, Father Beezle,” he said.

  The aged priest carefully lowered himself back into his simple wooden chair and leaned forward, lacing his hands together before him on the desk. He considered Peirte momentarily, wondering how he’d ever been so blinded by this man. “I imagine you do. You never come down here anymore. I suppose the king keeps you busy.”

  The grand councillor gave the priest a bitter look, impatiently drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair he occupied. “Yes, I suppose, though he won’t be anymore. King Turis Lee is dead.”

  Randall’s brows rose instantly. “Dead?”

  “You’re not deaf, Randall, or at least you didn’t used to be,” Peirte huffed, standing again. He paced with width of the room slowly. “Dead as can be. Heart attack, I imagine. Dropped like a rock I’m told. That son of his ordered me to come down here to alert you so that the rites for the funeral and coronation can be started.”

  “Oh my.” Randall leaned to the side and unlocked one of his desk drawers. He pulled out a huge leather-bound book and set it gently on the center of his desk. Taking up his spectacles again, he propped them on his nose before gingerly opening the volume and sifting through its brittle pages. He put a finger beneath a passage and read for a few seconds. “Yes, here we are. All the procedures are here for the funeral and for getting Prince Keiran crowned. We must get started immediately, though. As I’m sure you know, the process takes several days. So much to do…”

  Peirte stopped pacing and glowered at the priest. “How long, exactly, until Keiran is officially king?”

  Father Beezle leaned in closer to the book and continued to read. At ninety-four years old, he had participated in the transfer of power from Keiran’s grandfather, Magnus Valis Sipesh, to Turis Lee Sipesh long before. Though ages had passed, the priest’s memory was infallible to the smallest detail. Still, he made a show of reading the page over, confirming what he recalled.

  “We should receive the king’s body tonight if at all possible, so that we may have it lain in state beginning tomorrow. He will remain here for three full days so that people may pay their respects. On the fourth day, he will be cremated, and Keiran will receive the brand of his confirmation as the legitimate heir. The next day, he will go on the traditional hunt. When he returns from that, the official coronation will take place, immediately followed by the banquet where his prize from the hunt will be served to the people. All told, it will work out to be seven days from today.”

  Peirte rolled his eyes and tightened his jaw. He’d forgotten about the antiquated hunting ritual. It was simply a symbolic act showing that the new king would be able to provide for his people by his own hand. Most kings in the past had cheated the system, though, sending out scores of huntsmen to find quarry and bring it in. Keiran, however, would most certainly go out to do it himself. The young man wouldn’t try to cheat like many of his predecessors had. He was possibly the best huntsman in the castle, anyway.

  Something passed behind Peirte’s eyes and he moved to rest his hands on the back of the chair he’d been sitting in, staring at the priest. “Tell me, you know as well as I do that Keiran’s rumored vampirism is real. Is there any reason that should prevent him from being crowned? I mean, surely there should be some concerns? Does someone like him even possess a soul?”

  “Ah, that.” Randall looked up from the book and at the councillor, immediately realizing that Peirte was angling to take over. “There is nothing about it in our laws. In all honesty, Keiran is no more responsible for the fact he was infected with the curse as an infant than you are for being born a male. He had no control over it. I know there are rumors out there, many unflattering about him, but in the time I’ve spent with the prince during his religious education, I’ve seen nothing damning. He’s always s
eemed sincere and honest. Can you truly tell me you’ve looked into that young man’s eyes and found him looking soulless or hollow? Maybe there are stories about vampires being evil or not having spirituality about them, but Keiran doesn’t fit that construct. Not one bit. He’s a good man.”

  “You don’t think it could all be an act? That we could be in for a terrible surprise once he’s in power?” Peirte asked, his tone clipped and impatient. The fact that Randall was clearly on Keiran’s side was frustrating, though not entirely unexpected. Randall was generally accepting to a fault, and he always had been, in Peirte’s view.

  Father Beezle genuinely liked the prince and grew slightly defensive. He met Peirte’s stare and tugged off his glasses again. “There are those that put on a good show just to get what they want, Peirte, that is true. Keiran, however, isn’t like the type that would pull such a thing. I’m sure you can relate.”

  Peirte’s eyes narrowed and he stood tall again. His lips hinted at a frown for a moment. Inside, he realized that Randall had just jabbed at him, but he wouldn’t give the old man the satisfaction of reacting to it. The old fool could be dealt with later. “So you say. I hope for your sake, Father, that you’re right. What should be my next step?”

  “It is your privileged duty to see that your master, Turis Lee, is ushered into the next life respectfully. Make sure that his body gets to us tonight. From there, just keep a watch over Keiran. See to it that he arrives here for the cremation and his confirmation. Then, get him on his way to his hunt and all that follows,” Randall replied, closing the book before him carefully and setting his glasses on top of it. Inside, he couldn’t help but feel like he was telling the proverbial fox to guard the hen house.

  “I shall see to it, then.” Peirte turned and moved toward the door, not giving the priest the chance to say anything further. He had no illusions that the old man liked him anymore than anyone else. Randall was just another short-sighted commoner in his view, head of the church or not. He didn’t really have time for it. Seven days—that was all the time he had to get Keiran taken care of, and he had no intention of the prince ever arriving for his coronation.

  Randall watched Peirte slip out of the room before resting his head in his hands and giving a silent prayer for the prince. Vampire or not, the young man had always seemed respectable and promised to be very different than his father. Keiran could be the salvation of the country, and if he was, he was willing to overlook the vampirism issue like most others eventually would if things worked out well.

  With a nagging ache settling into his stomach as he continued to ponder what Peirte was planning, the priest finally left his office to go discuss things with the others in the cathedral. Despite the situation, he needed to start the proper arrangements. All the elderly priest could do was make sure that the rites were all done to the letter so that Peirte wouldn’t end up with some legal loophole to jump through.

  * * *

  The councillor left the cathedral and headed back to the castle, slumped down into his seat in the carriage. His eyes were closed as he tried to figure out what to do. Whatever move he intended to make needed to be done within the next seven days. Waiting any longer would only complicate things. The people would more readily accept the grand councillor as king, if the prince they honestly didn’t know wasn’t around to be crowned. The fact that Keiran had been kept in the shadows all his life could play out in Peirte’s favor easily enough.

  The hunt seemed like his best chance at getting something done, as Keiran would be out away from the castle with only a small compliment of guards. An idea started to take shape in the back of his mind. He had several tools available to him, thanks to his years of study into magic, as well as some people he could take advantage of. There were a few he had forced into his servitude through assorted, underhanded means. There would be favors called in so he could put middlemen between him and the prince’s assassination to cover his tracks.

  Peirte’s eyes slowly opened and shifted to stare out the carriage’s window, a wicked smile curling his lips. He knew what to do but needed to start the preparations immediately. There wasn’t any time for mistakes.

  Chapter 2

  As the activity in the castle started to wind down for the day, it seemed like the entire place was giving a sigh of relief. Without Turis Lee running around on his usual assorted tirades, the servants were able to go about their business with little or no tension. This was something entirely alien to most of them, as he’d been the king longer than most of them had been alive.

  Corina continued to medicate Keiran throughout the day with her herbal concoctions. It was clear that every few hours he needed another good dose. His headache refused to abate completely. He always tended to put on an odd squinting expression when it got bad, making it fairly easy to diagnose.

  After she ushered him into the dining hall in the evening, she sat and watched him eat. While he generally would have been moderately talkative with her, that night he remained relatively silent. Though she tried to prompt him into light conversation, he made his answers to her questions quiet and without a lot of elaboration. The prince didn’t eat much, either. He made a show of picking over his food for nearly an hour, but by her count he’d only actually taken half a dozen bites.

  Under any other circumstances she would have pressured him more, but she let it go. She was fairly certain that Keiran wasn’t exactly in mourning over the old king’s death, but it still had been his father for whatever that was worth. Surely, he was stressed out about the prospect of taking on the country’s responsibilities. On top of that, Keiran wasn’t a fan of confrontation, but he’d let her know he intended to recall several of his father’s appointees immediately upon his coronation. They were going to be mercilessly weeded from the government, as he tried to find a new balance for the way things were run. The prince wasn’t looking forward to it in the least, but he was willing to commit to it, regardless.

  Corina let her mind wander a little in the meanwhile. Jerris had spoken with her after Keiran returned to the castle and ordered Peirte away. Inevitably, their conversation had turned to the issue of Keiran still refusing human blood. The two of them heartily agreed he needed to do it. Not only would it most likely improve his condition overall, but it might possibly offer him protection. They even lightly mulled over the idea of forcing human blood into the vampire without his consent. Jerris ultimately laughed it off, but the notion hadn’t ever vacated Corina’s thoughts. She thought, perhaps, she should just do it. She had ample opportunity to slip it into a drink or such, after all.

  When it looked like he wasn’t going to have anything else to eat, she rose up and started to pick things up off the table. She eyed him as she moved, her expression hiding how ashamed she was for what she was secretly considering. Still, her hands were shaking and her motions seemed a little unusual to him.

  Keiran met her gaze in the dim candlelight and canted his head to the side, leaning back in his chair. “Corina, are you all right? Something seems off.”

  She hastily shook her head and forced up a smile for him, before grabbing the wine goblet that was sitting before him. “No, Keiran, I’m just tired. I’m going to go get you a little something to drink before I retire for the evening. Wait here, would you?”

  “All right,” he agreed, nodding some. The prince simply wrote her odd behavior off to the fact she was emotional in her own right over all that was going on.

  Corina walked out of the room and quickly ran into two girls in the corridor. She handed the dishes she’d collected to the first servant, though she kept the goblet. Her attention then shifted to the other.

  “Thana, go in there and talk to Keiran for a moment or two, would you? I need to go take care of something.”

  The girl’s dark eyes went wide and she looked toward the door to the dining hall. Her hands moved up toward her left shoulder, toying with the end of her braided ebony hair, giving up the anxiety she instantly felt. “Talk to him?”

&nb
sp; “Aye, go on,” Corina said.

  She hated to use Thana that way, but it would give her the chance she needed to look into something. Keiran tended to get all out of sorts when she was around, and he wouldn’t realize how long Corina was going to be missing. Then again, the old woman had noticed that Thana tended to get a little flustered around the prince in return. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate to put the two of them together, as it was against the law for royalty to consort with commoners, especially servants. Both of them were so painfully shy, however, that nothing would really happen. It would buy her time, and that’s all she needed.

  The girl hesitated for a moment longer, before obeying her elder and moving into the dining hall. She spotted Keiran sitting at the table and went over quietly, her hands moving down to fidget with the bag she kept tied around her waist to carry a few things.

  Keiran had closed his eyes again. His headache felt like a large spoon was scraping up against the inside of his skull. Despite her attempt to move silently, Keiran heard someone nearing and his reddened eyes peered open. They flew wide a second later when he realized who it was, and he straightened up in the chair. He tried to keep up an outward calm while looking her over as casually as he could manage.

  She was much smaller than he was. Her head only came up to about the middle of his chest whenever they were both standing. Her complexion was darker than most of those in the castle, despite her spending almost all of her time indoors. There was a slightly exotic air about her that had always intrigued Keiran, and now that she was a grown woman, he found her outright beautiful. This, in turn, rendered him utterly helpless and unable to speak clearly around her most of the time.

  “Th… Thana. What can I do for you?” he asked.