The King's Knight (Royal Blood Book 5)

by Kristen Gupton

  Eventually, he sat back and looked over at one of the blank canvases he had resting in the corner. Without giving it any real thought, he walked over and picked one of them up, replacing his work on the easel with it.

  There was a vision forming up in his mind, and he couldn’t escape it. He had to paint it. Something within him felt like he would honestly die if he didn’t put what was in his mind’s eye onto the canvas. He started to work in desperation, his strokes far more violent than his usual method.

  When Mari reentered the room an hour later, Garhan was sitting where she’d left him, though he looked much different. “Gary?”

  He’d been working with such furious passion that his hair and clothes were both soaked through with sweat. His shoulders heaved with his breaths, every bit of his energy having raced out into his work. He turned to look over at her, his eyes wild.

  She didn’t like it and didn’t understand what had happened to him. “Gary, what are you doing? What is wrong?”

  He’d figured it out himself in short order, seeing a few errant leaves of meadow wort drifting in the bottom of his cup once he’d drank it down further. Still, the weird, ethereal high he’d succumbed to hadn’t released him until he’d put the final bit of paint onto the canvas. He was struggling to reconnect his conscious thoughts to his body, but the rapture was finally abating.

  “Mari, how long have you been gone?” he asked, a brush still clutched in his trembling hand.

  She slowly moved closer to him, almost scared. “Perhaps an hour or a little more. Are you all right?”

  He gave a lax nod, looking down at the brush in his hand. “Some of that meadow wort got into my drink, I’m afraid.”

  “You drank it?” she yelped, going over and picking up his cup. “Smoking it is one thing, but Gary, ingesting it is… it’s…”

  He reached out with his free hand and grabbed her arm, needing to touch her to anchor himself back into reality. “Fatal, I know, but I’m not dead and I’m not dying. In fact… Mari…”

  She set the cup back down and put her hands against his cheeks, staring into his maddened eyes. “Gary? Are you going to be all right?”

  “It can’t kill me,” he said, dropping the brush in his grip to the floor. “It filled my mind though. Things I can’t possibly know, Mari, I know them!”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “A vision,” he whispered, standing up and putting his hands on her shoulders. “I had an honest-to-God vision!”

  “You had a hallucination,” she gently corrected, knowing well enough the mind games an overly heavy dose of the drug could cause. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t real, Gary.”

  “But it is,” he said back. “I painted it so it wouldn’t be lost when I sobered up.”

  She frowned and looked over at the canvas. What she saw was beyond her comprehension. Mari stepped away from him and bent down, inspecting his work. “What is this thing?”

  “It’s a machine!” he said, waving a hand at the canvas. “A monstrous machine that breathes fire and crushes all it encounters!”

  She continued to examine the painting. It was a far cry from his usual realistic, detail-obsessed work. The desperation he’d felt while painting it was nearly tangible within his aggressive brush strokes. “Nothing like that exists, Gary. It was a hallucination.”

  He shook his head and reached up to tangle his hands in his hair. “No, it’s not a mere hallucination. It’s being built in the north. It is my father’s… He’s building this thing to go into the Northern Wastes. It is absolutely real. I…I have to show Keir.”

  While it was clear her husband thought he’d had a divine experience, she wasn’t completely convinced. However, there was enough sincerity emanating from him that she relented. “Let me go get him for you.”

  Garhan waited anxiously, but he did his best to get the remainder of his temporary insanity under control. He spun when he heard his brother enter the room.

  “Garhan?” Keiran looked his brother over and quirked a brow. “Mari said you needed to talk to me?”

  “I know what my father is doing!” he said, his words coming out a little more frantic than he would have liked.

  “He had a hallucination,” Mari said. “He was getting rid of my meadow wort earlier and he accidently took a bit.”

  Keiran’s eyes narrowed. Clearly, Garhan looked like he’d been through something serious. “Is that so?”

  “The meadow wort simply opened up the flood gate,” Garhan replied, fixing his gaze on Keiran. “Athan is building something like the world has never seen!”

  Keiran’s eyes went wide as Garhan stepped aside and pointed at the painting he’d created during his drug trip.

  The younger vampire went closer, until he dropped down onto the stool Garhan had occupied while working. Though he didn’t entirely understand it, Keiran certainly recognized it. He’d had occasional nightmares during the preceding months of the very thing now manifested on the canvas.

  Garhan crouched down beside Keiran, seeing his odd reaction. “You…you recognize this?”

  “The ice ship…” Keiran whispered, giving a small shake of his head. “I’ve dreamt of this…”

  Garhan stood back up quickly and smacked his hands together. He’d known it was more than a simple hallucination. “Ice ship!”

  “I’ve tried to shirk off the dreams, crediting them to nothing more than stress, but you’ve, Garhan, you’ve captured it.” Keiran turned his gaze up toward his brother.

  While Garhan believed his brother, he needed to test it a little further. “What does it do in your dreams?”

  Keiran shook his head and looked at the painting again. “This black smoke coming from the top here, it’s from the fire burning in its belly. This bottom portion propels it forward. Nothing can stop it. It rolls over everything… It’s going into the Northern Wastes. Athan is going to use it to get to my sister.”

  “Exactly,” Garhan replied, putting his hands on Keiran’s shoulders. “But it’s not done, yet.”

  “No, it’s being built, though.” Keiran didn’t like his growing ability to see things he shouldn’t know but having his premonition validated by Garhan’s painting brought a smile to his lips.

  He had the ability to do something Athan could not. He didn’t need a seer, all he needed to do was to begin trusting his widening senses. While the ice ship was horrific, at least he knew it was being created, and that meant he had a chance at stopping it, somehow.

  * * *

  Fall was in the air. While the pine trees in the Tordan Mountains didn’t change colors, the foggy mornings and cooling days gave up the fact clearly enough.

  Jerris’ recuperation from his twice-broken arm had taken longer than anticipated. Even months removed, his left arm was still rebuilding strength. Keiran had taken to sparring with his friend to try and get him back into shape, though the vampire had to intentionally go easy on him.

  They sat on the stairs of the courtyard, bottles of ale in hand and resting after another few hours of working out. Zach was with them, the boy happily toddling along after some of the chickens wandering about.

  “What will he do if he ever catches one?” Jerris asked as the boy squealed and tried to grab one of the hens. The bird flapped and easily evaded him.

  “I’m not certain we’ll ever find out. Hopefully, he won’t lick them like you used to,” Keiran replied with a shrug. “With our storehouses full, thanks to Emperor Betram’s gift, I don’t think we’ll have to eat all of them this winter.”

  “I’m sure the chickens will be ecstatic to hear it,” Jerris said, not denying that he may have licked one a time or two while intentionally grossing out the prince as children.

  “Speaking of our animals, how’s Patrice doing?” Keiran asked. “I’ve not been down to see her in weeks.”

  “She’s fat again, and her limp is all but gone.” The guard took a drink then smiled. “She’s enjoying her retirement, I assure you. Waking up
in the morning and stepping outside to have her greet me before work has become routine.”

  Magretha exited the castle, her stomach well rounded, her hands resting on top of it. Despite her miscarriage in the spring, she’d gone on to conceive again without any complications. Now a good way into her pregnancy, she was beginning to get uncomfortable.

  She looked down at the men. “Hard at work are you?”

  Keiran and Jerris both got up and turned around, looking guilty, though they didn’t really know why.

  The guard climbed to the top of the stairs where she stood. “Ready to head home?”

  “Aye, I’ve had enough of cleaning up our king’s messes for the day,” she said, offering Keiran a wink.

  “He’s a pig,” Jerris replied, taking a hold of her hand. “Let’s go.”

  Keiran felt something hit his leg and he looked down, seeing Zach clinging to him. He reached down and scooped the boy up. “See all this respect you get as King? I’m a pig, he said.”

  Zach placed his hands on either side of Keiran’s face and squeezed, making a few snorting sounds.

  …apparently, the boy agreed.