The King's Knight (Royal Blood Book 5)

by Kristen Gupton

  The old man wasn’t as quick to accept the stranger’s help. “Keiran, this is an extremely dangerous game that’s being played with you. Someone might be trying to gain your favor for nefarious reasons. That has crossed your mind, correct?”

  He set the note and the stone on the small table beside his seat before standing up and straightening his shirt. “The thought has crossed my mind, Kanan. I appreciate your caution, but I’m not being led into anything. I might as well exploit these gifts left for what they’re worth. When this benefactor finally comes to light, I’ll deal with them, unblinded by what they’ve given to me in the meanwhile.”

  Kanan turned away and coughed twice, fighting off the last of his illness. “I know you’ve already seen enough to know this world is a dangerous place, where things rarely go as you would hope.”

  Keiran frowned and sighed, closing the distance between them. “How are Magretha and Jerris this morning? Have you checked on them?”

  “Aye, of course I have. I went to see them with Corina first thing this morning,” Kanan replied. “Magretha is doing better. No sign of fever or any further progression of illness. As for Jerris, he’s acting all right, but I know he’s troubled more than he’s letting on.”

  “I’m glad to hear that she’s doing better,” Keiran replied. “I never thought I’d see the day Jerris became attached to a woman like he is with her, but…”

  Kanan tried to hide a smile. “He came by his earlier promiscuity honestly enough.”

  The vampire looked at the older man and quirked a brow.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Kanan said, shaking his head. “I wasn’t always old. I’ve been with more than my fair share of women. Some far and above my social class, too. I didn’t settle down with Jerris’ mother until I was well beyond thirty, and I had my fun right up until then.”

  “You were pushing forty, if my math serves,” Keiran replied with a snort.

  The old guard huffed and waved his hands. “Regardless, despite my age, I still do quite fine, I assure you. Ask Corina.”

  “I think I’d rather not.” He averted his gaze to the side. Though he’d wanted to lighten the mood, the conversation hadn’t ended up anywhere he wanted it. “Regardless, I’ll go see Jerris in a bit. It’s hard to judge how much they want others around right now.”

  Kanan patted Keiran hard in the middle of the back. “Go see them. Get Jerris out for a short while. Magretha needs to rest and Corina says she can’t do that until Jerris quits fussing over her. You know how fidgety he gets.”

  “True enough.” Keiran smiled. “I hope Thana isn’t too upset that I disappeared with the baby last night.”

  “She knows how you are. The baby is fine, I doubt she’s angry at all. She’s put up with you this long anyway.” Kanan nodded toward the doorway. “You’ll be seeing a little more of me, since I’ll be picking up for Jerris until this all passes. Now, get to work.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Keiran offered the old man an exaggerated slow bow before heading out.

  He went straight to Jerris and Magretha’s room and knocked on the door. The guard pulled it open and forced up a smile.

  “The old man said he was going to wake you up,” Jerris said, stepping into the corridor and closing the door behind him.

  “Aye, he did.” Keiran examined his friend. “Jerris, I need to go to the cathedral. Something is going on there, and I should find out what. I know you’re probably reluctant to—”

  “Let’s go.”

  Keiran leaned back a little. “That easy?”

  “I know they want me to give Mag a little time to herself,” Jerris replied. “The thing is, when two old people like Corina and Kanan try to whisper, being that they are both hard of hearing, it’s not difficult to pick out what they’re talking about.”

  He gave a slow nod. “Then I suppose we should get underway. It won’t be too long, I promise.”

  “She’s sleeping, I doubt she’ll even miss me. Let me get my cloak and something more appropriate to ride in.” Jerris didn’t wait for his response before vanishing back into the room.

  * * *

  It was the first time Keiran had been out of the castle in several months. The ride down into town was sloppy and rough. The roads, even the cobbled ones, were covered in mud and slush from the melting snow.

  Some of the smaller wooden buildings they passed along the way had simply collapsed under the weight of the snow. Now that it was melting, they were little more than piles of broken lumber. While most of the stone structures had fared better, there were still several roof collapses they saw.

  “Everything is a mess,” Keiran said quietly as they turned onto the street where the cathedral sat.

  “An understatement.” Jerris constantly scanned around them, but those they passed paid them little attention. With the hoods to their cloaks up, no one recognized them.

  The closer they got to the cathedral, the more people they encountered. They passed a wagon carrying three coffins. Keiran looked ahead noting the number of people milling about the town square. Usually open, the plaza was filled with rows of caskets and mourners.

  Keiran reined Porter to a stop, and he looked over at Jerris. “Is that all what I think it is?”

  “Aye, that’s where they’ve been bringing them. The ground is still too wet or frozen to bury them.” The redhead looked over at the vampire. “We’re going to have to go through there if you’re still committed to getting into the cathedral.”

  “Seeing it is certainly a different matter than being told the numbers,” he replied. “The dead won’t mind us, I’m certain.”

  They started forward again, going around the side of the massive stone building to tie up the horses. Once that was done, Keiran and Jerris walked around the corner, passing through the sea of mourners. Though it was still cold, it was above freezing, and the stench of death hung thick in the air.

  Keiran scanned over the rows of crude, home-made coffins. He’d never seen a spectacle quite like it before, and it drove in the severity of what had happened over the winter. Though it was customary for the dead, unable to be buried in the winter months, to lay in wait near the cathedral, the scale of what they witnessed was beyond anything Tordan Lea had been through in living memory.

  “Even when the ground thaws and dries, it will take the survivors weeks to bury all of these people,” Keiran said quietly.

  A woman nearby turned her head toward them, her eyes rimmed with tears. “We must petition the king to allow cremations! The town will be plagued with disease if we don’t!”

  Keiran stopped and met her gaze, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m certain he will offer no protest to that if it is the best solution.”

  She looked to the side, narrowing her eyes and scowling. “Our last king always forbade commoners from cremation, no matter what we had to suffer here! The dead have been piling up here for weeks! Why wouldn’t he have already given his permission?”

  His hand slowly slipped from her shoulder, though he didn’t look away. “Perhaps no one has asked him before today? He will give word to the church before the morning has passed.”

  She scoffed and looked back at the coffin she’d been tending. “Such faith in a king puts one at great risk for disappointment, and that is the one thing none of us can endure right now.”

  He gave her a soft smile. “He won’t disappoint you.”

  The woman squinted up at him again, frowning. “Little rich boy, do you not see what is around you? Have you lost no one this winter?”

  Keiran felt his cheeks start to burn. He hadn’t lost anyone to the winter. While he was upset and stressed about the condition of the population in Tordania, he certainly couldn’t relate to it like this poor woman. While he could grant them the right to cremate the dead, it wouldn’t bring them back, and it wouldn’t alleviate the grieving taking place all around him.

  His smile fell and he dropped his gaze to the ground. “I don’t mean to make light of the
situation. The decree will come, though I know it is of little consolation.”

  “You can’t relate to us. Your clothes, that horse I saw you pass by on... Go on. Go into the church. Give them some gold to help out us lesser folk and ease your conscience without getting your hands dirty.” She turned away and knelt back down beside the coffin.

  Keiran turned around when he felt Jerris gently grab his arm.

  The guard didn’t say anything, only giving a slight shake of his head before tipping it toward the cathedral doors. He knew Keiran was out of his element and wanted to get him out of the plaza as quickly as possible.

  The vampire nodded back, and the two of them continued and climbed the stairs to the massive doors of the cathedral. Once inside, Jerris dropped onto a bench by the doors, giving Keiran his space.

  The young king made his way up to the altar and stepped around it. The floor behind it was covered with an ornate rug with a purple circle outlined in the center. He knelt down there and stared up at the clear window in the wall above him, up toward the sky before bowing his head.

  Several minutes passed before a woman’s voice came from behind him. “That spot is solely reserved for the royal family to pray, so unless you are the king, I suggest you remove yourself at once.”

  The sensation of a hundred ice needles pushed into the back of his neck. It had been ages since he’d heard that voice, but it wasn’t one he’d ever forget.

  Keiran slowly rose and shoved back the hood to his cloak. “Mother Adreth Thinliss…to what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

  One of her faint, thin brows arched upward, her pale eyes narrowing in recognition. One of her skeletal hands clutched at the front of her vestment. “My apologies, Prince, no, King Keiran. I didn’t realize it was you, it has been a number of years and you were but a boy. I would have expected an announcement or an accompaniment of guards if it had been you.”

  Jerris cleared his throat, but he was largely ignored.

  Though she was aging, she hadn’t changed much. Her bitterly lean body was a jagged collection of sharp angles. Sunken ice blue eyes sat above hollow cheeks, all the contours of her skull readily apparent beneath her nearly transparent, wispy hair. A woman of exceptional stature, she stood a few inches taller than Keiran.

  “I tend to travel light,” he said, going closer to her. His life-long dislike for the priestess was compounded by something in his deeper instincts being triggered by her presence. “Again, what are you doing here? Travel isn’t easy right now.”

  “It wasn’t easy, but my duties never have been,” she replied, her hand falling back to her side. “It was of great importance for me to arrive as soon as I could, however. I was elected as Father Randall Beezle’s successor.”

  Now, it was time for Keiran to quirk a brow. Of all the potential candidates within the church, never had he imagined she would be chosen. He had no part in the decision, however, as the church’s affairs were kept largely separate from those of the monarchy.

  He tried to push back his more negative sentiments toward her. If she was the new head of the church, he would have to learn to work with her. “I’m certain they are glad to be with leadership again during such a trying time.”

  “You coming here, King Keiran, saves me the trouble of going to the castle later,” she said flatly. “I would have gone to see you the day I arrived, but you’ve certainly noticed the state of chaos out there. Still, we have things to discuss. Perhaps we should go into my office.”

  Keiran glanced over toward Jerris, but the guard simply waved a hand and slouched down.

  “Lead the way,” Keiran said.

  They went into the small office formerly occupied by Father Beezle. Keiran looked around as he moved to take up one of the chairs before the desk within. Little had been changed. The book shelves were all the same, but the items on the desktop were different. Whereas Father Beezle had never had any personal belongings to clutter his space, Mother Thinliss had placed a few pieces of ornate glassware upon the desk. Several of them were corked bottles of assorted size, their contents a mystery. On the edge of the desk sat a large metal bowl with a pile of incense burning to cover up the ambient reek in the air.

  She moved and sat across from Keiran, Father Beezle’s old journal lain out before her. “As you know, I was the unfortunate inheritor of Peirte Methaius’ congregation after he was moved from the coast to become your father’s advisor those many decades ago.”

  Keiran nodded. “Surely a trying spot to be put into.”

  “An understatement, King Keiran. It took me ages to deal with all the remnants of the corruption left in his wake.” She twisted her twig-like fingers together and leaned forward on the desk. “I’ve read the accountings from Father Beezle’s journal regarding the things Peirte did around the time of your coronation. I can’t say I’m surprised he tried what he did. He was a horrible man, and certainly not of God.”

  Keiran gave a single nod of his head in agreement.

  “I’d always known the flap of demonic possessions that ravaged my hometown was his doing. His ability to cure them, which gained him his notoriety, was all a wicked ploy.” She frowned and turned her head to the side. Her ghostly pale cheeks began to show color. “I learned my suspicion of him being involved in the black arts was correct long ago. If only others had heeded my warnings, so much suffering could have been avoided.”

  “I saw his work myself. It was absolutely horrific,” Keiran replied, lacing his hands in his lap. “I remember your visit to the castle some years ago, when you tried to warn my father of Peirte’s true nature.”

  “One of my many fruitless visits and warnings. Turis Lee simply laughed me off. Before I left after my last attempt, Peirte himself threatened me. If I ever spoke against him again, I would suffer dire consequences. I lodged my concerns with Father Beezle, but he was too weak a man to do anything about it.” She let out a sharp hiss between her teeth. “With the church needing new leadership, it was my protests about Peirte, and my work to restore the church back home, that put my name on the list. They believe I can purge Tordan Lea of any lingering traces of Peirte’s evil, just as I did back in Stanth.”

  Keiran drew a long breath. Why she’d been chosen now made sense, but her tone didn’t sit well with him. “Father Beezle was not a weak man. For all of my father’s ills, he didn’t break church law, and Father Beezle simply had no recourse against Peirte as he was protected by my father.”

  She locked gazes with him, her frozen stare cutting. “I know that is…was officially Father Beezle’s stance, however, the church needs to be more proactive in seeing to the best interests of the citizens of Tordania. We have the Church Knights at our disposal. They should be utilized for the greater good when needed.”

  Keiran’s instinct to defend Father Beezle seethed, threatening to invoke his anger. “Just as there are laws that govern the country, the people, and the king, so there are laws governing the church. I appreciate your interest in protecting the people, and the work you’ve done to correct Peirte’s evils back on the coast, but I assure you, I’ll have no vestiges of his madness here. I seek to bring the country out of depression and to be a just ruler.”

  “By your very nature, King Keiran, I believe you are against the will of God,” she replied, unwavering. “Just as I had no fear in telling your father what I believed reality to be, so I will be honest with you and without fear in doing so. The very notion of a vampire as king is terrifying. I’ve seen Lord Vercilla’s work, and I will not have it repeated here.”

  Keiran wasn’t accustomed to many being so blunt with him. While there was something almost admirable in it, she was wrong.

  “Mother Thinliss, if I were ever to become a tyrant the likes of Athan, Peirte, or even my own father, I would hope to be struck down. It isn’t my desire, however, and I want to see this country flourish as it once did.” He leaned forward. “Your preconceptions about me are incorrect. Perhaps being a vampire isn’t a godly thing, but it wasn�
�t something I became by choice. I was nothing more than an innocent child when this was done to me.”

  “I’ve read all of Father Beezle’s journal entries made during the year prior to his death. I know you leaned on him to break the rules, and he did nothing to stop you.” She unknotted her hands and flipped to a page in the book before her. “You’ve already managed to get the rules bent to marry who you wanted. Father Beezle knew full-well that Sadori so-called queens are not, by our standards and definitions, legitimate royalty. Yet, he acquiesced. Royal marriages are a tool used to strengthen bonds between nations, but he allowed you to push that all aside to grant you a love marriage instead. A wasted opportunity.”

  “I’d hardly say my father’s marriage to my mother did anything to strengthen the bonds between Aleria and Tordania.” Keiran leaned back again, scowling. “The issue has already been resolved. It was agreed to. What, will you delegitimize my marriage now? Will you make my son a bastard?”

  “No,” she replied flatly. “What is done and was granted is beyond my concern. Moving forward, however, I need you to understand that I will not be like Father Beezle. He was too close to you; too blinded by his sentiments and personal involvement. He never should have allowed such a thing, nor should he have possessed such a personal, grandfatherly bond with you. It impaired his judgment.”

  The vampire crossed his arms over his chest. He knew that his friendship with Randall had been unusual between the church and royalty, but he’d never thought of it as detrimental.

  “Father Beezle was a good man, Mother Thinliss.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t blame you for being cautious, you did see Peirte for who he was, and you saw the aftermath of his evil. However, I want nothing of that. I want the country to do well. I want it to rebound from my father’s reign.”

  “There are nearly a thousand corpses lying in the town square outside,” she said. “You may say you want better for this country, but there is evil brewing and judgment being passed. This is merely the beginning.”