The Phoenix Prince

by Kristen Gupton

  She averted her eyes to the side and fussed with something in her hands. “I just wanted to wish you luck out there today.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that,” he said.

  “I wanted to give you something before you go,” she said, lifting up her right hand, holding something.

  Keiran reached out and took it from her. It was a small square of fabric with his family’s crest embroidered onto it. He smiled before daring to meet her gaze. “You made this?”

  “Aye,” she whispered, looking up at him. Thana leaned forward to look at what he held, before rocking back again. “It’s a favor. When someone is going out on a quest or the like, ladies are supposed to give them to someone they wish luck. I know I’m just a servant, but I figured you deserved something.”

  His brows quirked up, a dopey grin appearing. He knew good and well what favors like this were about, but he wouldn’t have dared to think Thana meant more by it than just a friendly gesture. Still, his heart skipped a beat. “Thank you. I can’t say I’ve gotten one of these before.”

  She blushed a little in response, offering him a bright smile. “Now you have. I should go.”

  He nodded and folded the fabric, before slipping it down over his heart between his doublet and shirt. “Aye, I’ll see you when I return.”

  Thana just gave him one last smile before running back up the stairs and disappearing into the castle again.

  Jerris jogged out into the courtyard, passing the girl, spotting the prince standing there, absently gnawing on the chunk of bread he’d brought along. He stopped a few paces away, pointing back in the direction Thana had vanished. “What was that?”

  “Just wishing me luck.”

  Jerris shook his head and closed the remaining distance between them. “That girl has it bad for you, why don’t you take the hint?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  How Keiran could be so dense mystified the guard. “Someday, Keir, someday.”

  The prince took another bite from the bread he’d brought along, his momentary high from seeing Thana fading away. “Whatever.”

  “This is the first time you’ve beaten me out of bed in a long while, Keir,” he said, opting to change the subject. While he’d been worried about losing track of the prince for a moment, seeing him up and dressed without prompting was reassuring. “Sleep well?”

  Keiran continued to stand unmoving, chewing away for several seconds. It took that long for the guard’s words to filter down through his brain. “Aye… I mean, no. Not worth a damn.”

  Jerris reached out and slapped Keiran in the shoulder, trying to get him a little more animated. He’d not given any thought to the fact he was standing to Keiran’s right, and the prince instantly groaned and dropped his bread. He leaned over to the side and putting his left hand over his brand.

  Jerris felt a knot in his stomach, having completely forgotten. “Oh, God, Keir, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

  The prince straightened up after a few seconds, growling and looking none too pleased with his friend. He knew it was an accident, but it had hurt like hell. “So help me God, if you touch my arm again, Jerris, it won’t be a deer over the fire at tomorrow’s banquet. We’ll be having red-haired bastard. I hear it’s delicious. Vampires everywhere agree.”

  “That’s not going to help the whole vampire tyrant thing you’re trying to avoid,” Jerris replied. If Keiran was good enough to say something absurd like that, he wasn’t damaged beyond repair. “Though, I imagine I’m delicious.”

  Keiran gave him an odd look, quirking a brow and offering a smile. Jerris was weird, he already knew it, but sometimes the reminders were enough to make him grin—even when he was in pain. He set his sights out into the courtyard, seeing that the hunting party already had the horses prepared.

  There would be just five men in the group today. Normally, Kanan would be going along with them, but he was busy having to arrange the security details for the coronation and the banquet. He trusted his son to do the job of watching the prince on the hunt. After all, the head of the guard supposed he’d be retiring sooner rather than later, and the whole thing would fall on Jerris’ shoulders eventually.

  One of the other men going in the party, the butcher of the group who’d prepare the game for the trip back, came over and stood before the prince and Jerris. “Everything is ready, Your Highness. We can head out whenever you like.”

  Keiran nodded. “All right, just a few minutes.”

  The man bowed before going back to the others.

  Jerris considered the prince for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re up to this?”

  Keiran uttered some nonspecific response to that, drawing his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The simple answer was no, but he’d be damned if he was going to say that to Jerris. Deciding the best way to avoid the rest of the conversation was to get going, he sighed and went over to where his horse was waiting. He dragged himself up into the saddle.

  The guard shook his head and rolled his eyes, quickly following suit. Even if the prince didn’t like to address his feelings, Jerris wondered if the man had any idea how painfully easy he was to read.

  Keiran sat there on his horse, sorely tempted to flop forward and drape himself over the animal’s warm neck but resisted. He was supposed to be dignified or some such. He looked back to see his crossbow hooked to the saddle behind his left leg, and a quiver of bolts for it behind his right. Everything looked to be in order. They’d all done this countless times so it was fairly routine, even if this wasn’t their usual casual hunting trip. Keiran had a sneaking suspicion that Jerris’ saddle bags were loaded with bottles of ale or something along those lines, ceremonial event or not.

  It wasn’t long before they were on the road, heading toward the old trading post. The road they were upon hadn’t been used much since the river had become the main trade highway inland. It was badly rutted and washed out in several places from years of neglect. Still, it was faster going that it would have been to go through the forest on the assorted hunting and game trails to be found there.

  Jerris kept up a light conversation with Keiran as they rode along, cracking his expected jokes, but Keiran honestly seemed too down to reciprocate very much. The guard didn’t like it and grew quiet after a time, though he couldn’t blame him. He needed to have his attention on the road around them, anyway.

  By afternoon, the road had deteriorated to little more than a muddy track heading south through the dense trees. The way the road rose and fell with the landscape and took sharp bends made it impossible to see ahead. The chances of anyone being out this far were getting slim, and they had no reason to doubt Ivan’s intentions in pointing them in this direction. The limited visibility was still enough to put Jerris on edge.

  Keiran was exhausted simply from the ride by then. Though he badly wanted to stop and rest, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He feared he wouldn’t get going again if he did. Jerris and Keiran pulled out far ahead of the others, starting to look for their quarry as they entered the vicinity of Ivan’s encounter.

  The birds in the trees around them fell quiet, and both men felt an odd charge in the air around them. They reined their horses to a stop in the middle of the lane, scanning the forest. Something was moving amongst the dense underbrush. The guard turned and gave an uneasy look to his friend, but Keiran’s eyes were forward and fixed on something, his left hand already reaching back for his crossbow.

  Out of the trees several yards ahead of them, the white stag cautiously stepped out into the roadway. Keiran’s eyes went wide and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

  Ivan had been right.

  He’d never seen anything like it before. The deer was enormous, nearly as big as the average riding horse. Its pale antlers had a multitude of points, creating a large, tangled rack. Its coat was truly white, possessing a subtle glow in the overcast light. The color carried down to the animal’s hooves.
Even at the distance he was at, Keiran could see the red color of its eyes as it stared right back at him.

  Keiran’s lips parted as he slowly moved his crossbow up, both determined to get the stag and regretting having to take such an animal. There was already a bolt loaded into the weapon, but as he brought it up to bear, the stag gave a flick of its tail and turned to bound down the road away from them.

  Instantly, Keiran’s horse exploded forward at a dead gallop as he launched into pursuit. Jerris cursed to himself and spurred his mount onward too, knowing that his horse was not capable of keeping up with the one Keiran rode. He did his best to keep up, worried every time Keiran rounded a bend in the road and disappeared from view for a few seconds.

  The stag kept heading down the middle of the road, never moving to veer into the trees. This was unusual, but Keiran was too focused on the chase to give it any mind. The deer sailed over a fallen tree, Keiran’s horse managing over it without trouble. Jerris, falling increasingly behind, had to pull his horse to the side and go around the log completely. His horse just wasn’t big enough to clear such an obstacle.

  The prince’s horse matched the stag’s pace, snorting loudly with each stride. The abandoned trading post started to come into view before them, the deer continuing its flight. Keiran’s crossbow remained at his side, the deer never offering its side for a possible shot.

  The deer finally deviated from its straight track and made a sharp turn, heading between two of the outpost’s vacant buildings. As it did so, Keiran started to raise his crossbow, but there was no opportunity for him to aim before it vanished between the structures.

  Keiran growled and bared his teeth, pulling his horse into a turn to follow, the animal sliding a bit before managing to get down the alley. He saw the deer take yet another turn in front of him and go down another alleyway. The prince managed that turn as well, but had to pull his horse to a stop. They were boxed in between three buildings, the stag nowhere in sight.

  It was absolutely gone.

  Keiran looked around him in a near panic, trying to steady his agitated horse. He scanned the backs of the buildings around him, trying to see if the deer had slipped through a hole in a wall or some doorway. There didn’t seem to be a logical escape route, and he tried to catch his breath, thinking.

  Jerris was tearing after the prince. He caught up and stopped at the end of the alley Keiran was down a few seconds later. From his vantage point, he saw movement in the second-story window of the building next to the prince.

  “Keir!” he screamed out, instantly filled with dread. The prince was completely exposed.

  The assassin had a clear shot and cursed to himself when the guard appeared. He let his shot go, knowing he’d hit his mark. He wasn’t about to wait and give the guard any chance to intervene.

  The prince couldn’t see the assassin in the window from where he sat on his horse. Hearing Jerris, he turned slightly in the saddle to look back at him. The crossbow’s bolt struck about halfway into this motion, halting him at once. It hit just off center in his chest, the arrowhead cutting through him and protruding from his back a short distance.

  Keiran didn’t look down at first, simply freezing when he felt the impact. His eyes widened and he turned his head a little more, staring at Jerris. His own crossbow slipped from his hand and landed in the mud beside his horse. The prince’s lips parted, though no sound escaped. He found himself unable to draw a breath. He wavered in the saddle and looked downward, seeing the end of the arrow sticking out from his chest. The end of it was moving in time with the frantic beats of his heart.

  Jerris shouted again and flew from his horse, running toward Keiran. Though part of him considered going after the shooter, his emotional response urged him to go to the prince instead. Just as he got beside Keiran’s horse, the prince wavered again and fell to the side from the saddle. Jerris caught him and guided him as gently as he could to the ground. The idea that he was exposing himself to the assassin didn’t amount to much, as he was too panicked over Keiran.

  The guard looked back down the alleyway and screamed again. He hoped that the others would be close enough to hear him and respond, but he knew they weren’t there yet. He looked down to Keiran, cradling him in his arms.

  Keiran was looking up at him with a pleading expression. He couldn’t breathe and was going into shock. Blood was beginning to run from the corners of his mouth and nose, horrible drowning sounds emanating from his chest and throat. He was ghastly white, sweat rolling across his skin. Keiran’s left hand came up and twisted weakly into the front of Jerris’ shirt. Terrified and in agony, he choked out through the blood. His vampire’s fangs appeared for the first time, having descended over his canines.

  “Jerris… please, help me,” he croaked, the words wet and barely audible.

  “It’s okay, just hold on,” Jerris said. His eyes fixated on Keiran’s fangs for a moment, their presence alien. He forced his attention away and down to the arrow. The way it was positioned meant it was either in Keiran’s heart or damn close. The guard had spent enough time studying vampirism over Keiran’s shoulder through the years to know that damaging the heart was the preferred way of dealing with vampires. It was said that they didn’t come back from the dead with such injuries. It was an intentional kill shot.

  The arrow’s motions were growing erratic with the prince’s failing heart. Jerris was powerless to do anything about it and he felt sick, tightening his hold around Keiran and screaming back over his shoulder again, desperate for the others to arrive on scene.

  Tears slipped back from the corners of Keiran’s eyes from the pain and his fear. There was the rushing sound of white noise in his ears, and the edges of his vision were fading out. The prince knew he was going to die, but continued to try and beg Jerris for help.

  * * *

  The assassin chanced another look out the window, seeing the two men on the ground. He was pleased with the placement of his shot and smiled to himself. The prince was done for. He’d completed his task, maintaining his flawless record. He leaned his back against the wall next to the window, letting the rush of the kill wash over him for a moment. With only the one guard on the scene so far, escape would be easy enough. He stood up and slung his crossbow over his back, turning to move to the building’s stairs.

  The woman in the white cloak was standing in his way, having appeared out of nowhere. The assassin hadn’t heard her arrive there. He jumped but managed to keep silent, collecting himself and then meeting her eerily red eyes. “We must go immediately. The prince is dead.”

  She didn’t seem to respond or show any expression for a few seconds. When she did finally move, it was her clawed hand emerging from beneath her robes. With inhuman speed she lashed out, tearing open the assassin’s throat in one pass. Only then did she break into a wicked smile, bringing her claws up to her lips and letting her forked tongue slip forward, licking the blood from them. She took a step back, her hooves hidden beneath her clothing clacking against the floorboards.

  The assassin gurgled out and staggered backward several steps until the backs of his legs hit the window sill. His hands came up in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood from his throat. He fought to keep his balance but soon lost consciousness, falling out of the window he’d taken his shot from.

  * * *

  Jerris heard something above and looked up from Keiran long enough to see the man fall out of the window and crash to the ground next to them. The impact startled Keiran’s horse, making the animal bolt out of the alleyway. The assassin was still alive, but wouldn’t be for long, his body making agonal, jerking motions where it had come to rest. Jerris didn’t know what in the hell was going on, and he turned his attention back to Keiran.

  The vampire’s eyes were fluttering as consciousness started to evade him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, instinct struggled forth through the impending blackness of death. The scent of the assassin’s spilled blood energized him with one last burst of adrenaline. H
e pushed away from Jerris and dragged himself over to the fallen assassin.

  As horrified as he was, Jerris understood well enough what was going on. He crawled over and placed a hand on Keiran’s back, eyes scanning the alleyway. The guard knew it was a long shot that this would change anything, but it was a straw he was willing to grasp for. “Go on, do it, Keir…”

  The blood flow from the assassin’s neck was diminishing, but it was still enough. Keiran was running on sheer instinct, nothing conscious in his actions. He gave a quick pass of his tongue through the hot liquid. It sparked an even deeper urge in him and he lowered his head, pressing his mouth against the wound, drawing down as much of the assassin’s blood as he could in gagging swallows.

  Jerris watched, a faint glimmer of hope springing up within him. Maybe it would be enough to save the vampire’s life. Perhaps the arrow was just close to his heart and not in it, and Keiran would be able to regenerate. Jerris inwardly prayed and begged God to let it be so. He stroked Keiran’s back absently, once more looking for the others that had yet to arrive. Now, he didn’t want them to show up. Keiran wouldn’t want to be seen doing this, and he knew it.

  The prince stopped drinking, sitting up on his knees. The tightness in his chest had grown to the point where there wasn’t room for any breathing. His momentary burst of strength waned as fast as it had come. He looked over at Jerris, his expression showing agony. Nothing was happening. The blood hadn’t done a thing.

  His mind spun out into a cloud of sheer panic, but he lacked the ability to express anything. His vision tunnelled out and the world went silent, senses shutting down. Keiran slumped over onto his side, his gloved hands clawing at the ground in some piteous, desperate move, pulling him a short distance from the assassin’s body. He tried for one more retching, unproductive breath, his body going into a brief seizure. His mind quieted, going black.

  There was no bright light, no accompaniment of angels into the next world; just an endless void where Keiran’s consciousness ceased to exist.