Frank-SPrinces

by The Shadowed Princes [lit]

  Ros was a prodigy, born with the fangs, appetites and powers that normally only came to the sa'necari-born at puberty. She was forever licking at her fangs when no one would see her, testing to see if they had gotten any larger. Ros closed her mouth tightly and allowed her needle-like fangs to descend from their sheaths in her gums and ran her tongue over them, unable to detect any changes at all.

  They slipped back into the manor through a servants door. The place was crowded with new faces and the livery of many different households. Ros heard Stone's voice and stiffened, pausing in place like a frightened animal, alert to trouble. As he drew closer, Ros grabbed her sister and pulled her into a large closet filled with linens and blankets.

  The two little girls were conspicuous among the children at the manor. Their silken black hair and coppery skin set them apart from the fair-skinned, light-haired lycans.

  "What is it? Lyrri grumped. Why are we hiding now?"

  Since the Creeyans arrived, it seemed as if all they did was sneak about and hide.

  Ros opened the door a crack and peered through it. The monster is coming."

  "Which monster? Lyrri crouched and peered through with her head below her sister's.

  "The Stone monster."

  Reist and Regina walked beside Stone talking. He seemed like a giant to the two little girlsa big ugly giant from one of the cautionary tales their Uncle Malthus was always telling them.

  Stone kneaded his neck. Everything's a mess. Merissa's too ill to run the household. The nibari are managing, but they need more direction."

  "What have you got in mind? Regina asked him.

  "I want you to do it, Reggie."

  "Me? Regina scoffed. You'd be inundated with complaints in no time."

  "That's because you won't take any guff from the thanes and their entourages, Reist said in a droll tone. You could handle it, Reggie."

  She glanced from one to the other. I think you've been discussing this already."

  Stone gave her a smile of swaggering cheek. I want you to take them in hand. Especially Malthus nieces. They're always darting here and there as sneaky as thieves. Darmyk seems to be afraid of them."

  Ros waited until they had passed before snarling softly. Take us in hand? Sneaky as thieves are we?"

  "You think he wants to eat us? Lyrri's eyes saucered in alarm. She remembered what their Uncle Malthus had told them about the lycans not only killing their father, but eating him as well. Maybe we should stay in the playroom. Or in our rooms."

  "We'll do what we want to do."

  Loitering in the hallway, Faerwald watched the girls emerge from the closet. He stopped talking to Lairgan, and moved toward them, noticing the way that Ros limped. Another bloody cripple. Seems there's a lot of them."

  Ros flinched at the disgust in his voice. Filthy lycan."

  "You're the sa'necari pair, aren't you?"

  Ros drew herself up into a stance of childishly exaggerated defiance. Yes."

  "Come here."

  Ros backed away from him, keeping Lyrri behind her. Don't touch me."

  "I said, come here. I want to have a look at you."

  Ros retreated and Faerwald followed. Unable to run with the damaged leg, she headed down the hall, slinging it from the hip to move faster and glancing over her shoulder at the lycan who seemed more menacing by the moment. Ros held onto the shoulder of Lyrri's dress, pulling her along. She glanced back again and stumbled, pulling both of them to the floor. Faerwald loomed above them, scanning her critically.

  "The only thing I've ever done with a sa'necari was slip them the blade. But then those were adults."

  He reached out and grasped Ros arm, lifting her up. She spied her uncle stepping out of a room two doors from them and let out a yelp. You're hurting me."

  "Let go of my niece! Malthus lunged for him, and clamped down on Faerwald's hand with a twist to free Ros. She dropped to the ground and cowered.

  Faerwald responded with a counter grab, yanking Malthus close. A dagger appeared in his hand and he pricked Malthus under the chin with it. Don't cross me. I wasn't going to hurt her ... just curious."

  "Who the hell are you?"

  "Faerwald Davies. Captain of Lord Clennan Doherty's bodyguards."

  * * * *

  Kissie had come into season two months ago, and Aisha had ordered her bred to the new stud, Klaudi. He had been kind and gentle in his mountings, yet Kissie had been glad to see it over and done with once she caught.

  Nibari had ninety-day fertility cycles with only a week of opportunity for breeding each time. They caught easily, which made up for narrowness of their infrequent cycles. The sa'necari owners tended to breed them frequently; the lycans were more considerate. It had been six years since Kissie was last bred, and the pregnancy was reassuring to her in the disturbing times she found herself in.

  If the thanes elected to give the realm to Merissa, then Malthus would have ownership of her as Merissa's husband. She disliked Malthus. He seemed so harsh and cruel. On the other hand, if Kynyr became chieftain, then she could trust him to treat her kindly.

  She gathered her cleaning tools onto a wheeled cart and pushed it down to the suite that Claw and Aisha had occupied. Kissie had put off cleaning it after their deaths, because it made her cry at the thought that they were both dead.

  Stone glanced at her as she came in. He stood at Aisha's dresser, trailing his forefinger through a thick spill of fragrant dusting powder on the surface. Are you the one who usually cleans this room, Kissie?"

  "Yes, Master Stone."

  He jabbed his finger into the spill. Was Aisha always this messy?"

  Kissie dipped her finger into it and sniffed the powder. This is Aisha's favorite. The Creeyan Rose. She would never have spilled it like this and left it."

  "Could it have been spilled when my brother was murdered?"

  Kissie flinched, lowering her eyes. Master Claw died of a heart attack."

  "Master Claw was murdered. I just haven't figured out how yet."

  "You're frightening me."

  Stone gave her head a comforting stroke, feeling the tension melt away from her. Do not clean this suite until I have more time to investigate it. Sit down over there, Kissie. He pointed at an overstuffed chair flanking a small wooden table.

  He gave her a glance that, while not unkind, still made her want to cower. Kissie left her cleaning cart by the door and sank into the chair with her hands folded in her lap.

  "I want to ask you a few questions."

  "Yes, Master Stone."

  "Just Stone, Kissie. We're going to be friends."

  "Yessir."

  Stone settled into a chair opposite her. Tell me, when did you notice the first signs that my brother did not feel well?"

  Kissie prided herself on having a good memory, which was why Aisha had made her head nibari. The day of the wedding. He kept kneading his chest and arm. He asked me to send for Baroucha."

  "So the problems might have started before Malthus began living here. Did Malthus give him presents?"

  "Yessir. Wine and liquor mostly. The first gifts came while Master Malthus was courting Merissa."

  "Anything else?"

  "Tobacco. That was a father gift on the wedding day."

  It was traditional for the groom to give the parents of his new bride gifts on the wedding day. Stone wondered what Malthus had given Aisha, and if it might have contributed to her death as well.

  "I want you to gather everything that Malthus gave him ... everything that you can find ... and I want this suite kept locked."

  "Yessir."

  "Then I want you to tell Ossian everything you can remember about Malthus."

  "The lawgiver?"

  "Yes."

  "I will do that."

  Stone dismissed her with a wave of his hand and moved to the stool before Aisha's dressing table. The delicate stool creaked ominously beneath his weight. He sprang up and gazed at it, a touch of rue curving the left corner of his mouth. Then Stone set
it aside and replaced it with the stoutest chair in the antechamber.

  He had concentrated his search upon places which he believed most likely to hold the information he had been looking for: his brother's desks and drawers. Stone now realized that Aisha's things might also hold clues. He ran his finger through the powder again and rubbed it off.

  Stone opened the middle drawer and brought forth a handful of papers. He pulled the drawer completely out, laid it in his lap, and felt around in the back of the shelf it came from. His questing fingers tapped the hard cover of a book and he drew that out. Bitches were more likely to keep a diary than a dog wolf. Stone opened the diary and flipped to the last pages to check Aisha's final entries. A piece of paper fluttered out and drifted to the floor.

  He scooped it up and read it.

  It was a note from Kady to Aisha.

  Aisha,

  I keep getting distracted; I suppose it's the pregnancy, and I felt you needed to read this. Apparently someone who knew the exact words of it at the time wrote it down.

  THE EXILE'S CURSE

  When the Serpent comes, they all shall perish,

  The Redhands fall like sheaves of grain, until only the Exile shall remain of those who own their name.

  When fireborn law breathes hot upon the root

  One born of fire shall perish for the truth

  The exile's victory shall be his pardon

  Those he claims will rule

  The prince from shadows shall emerge

  To sit a blood drenched throne

  ....Alistar Weems dying words.

  It does not look like a curse to me, Aisha. It looks like a prophecy.

  Yours,

  Kady Maguire.

  Stone's eyes narrowed as he read.

  "I'm the only one left ... and I renounced my name. Merissa is an Estrobian by marriage. Fireborn Law? Caimbeul? There's two princes of shadows, Kynyr and Cooley. But it has to be Kynyr. Doesn't it?"

  CHAPTER THREE

  VAMPIRES AT THE GATES

  Lord Hoon had promised his myn and himself that they would winter in Red Wolf. He had forced them through the snowy passes of the Eiralyskali Mountains with threats and exhortations, punishments and promises. The town of Anglecyn had fallen in less than a day of fighting, and the Waejontori Army took possession of it as their wintering ground.

  He had made the Lawgiver House his headquarters with a keen sense of irony. The law in Anglecyn was now his law: the law of conquest. The family of Thane Selwyn Brawleigh had been captured, but the Thane himself and a small number of his housecarles were missing.

  Zinzi sat with her feet propped on the table and a goblet of red wine in her hand. She divided her attention between the young lycan on his knees by the hearth and Sergei Wraithsbane, both for different reasons. Zinzi despised Sergei and distrusted him with good reason. Sergei was not only a Lemyari vampire, but a battlemage of considerable ability, as well as a murderous pedophile who left a wake of dead girls behind him everywhere he went.

  The spellcorded lycan had his wrists bound behind him, while his ankles and knees were roped together. His head had been tied to a small frame that kept him on his knees with his throat temptingly exposed. Lacerations from the whip and other implements of torture marred his back and chest. Lord Hoon's favorite torturer had left his face alone at Zinzi's request. She liked his face, and had asked Hoon to give him to her, but he had denied her request.

  Sergei, a courier for Lord Hoon, was a short, ill-favored looking mon with four rows of heavy frown lines etched into his forehead. His brow ridge jutted over his small, deep-set eyes, and a thick nose, humped and hooked above his thin sneering lips.

  "I suspect he's mine, Sergei said smugly.

  Zinzi drained her goblet, sat it on the table, and threw an obscene gesture at Sergei. Sometimes she handled being around him well and other times she simply wanted to get away from him as swiftly as possible. You lied about it being your blood that night."

  Sergei gave a snort of laughter. Since I've become bored with you ... yes. I lied. I killed you. I didn't turn you. I don't make little girls, I eat them."

  "Then whose blood was it?"

  "Mine. Lord Hoon swept into the room. Had you ever asked, I would have told you. It was my blood in a glass of wine that turned you."

  Not even the scowl that he threw Sergei could rob Hoon's elegant face of its innate sensuality.

  "I have tasks for each of you. Tell me, Sergei, do you still take messages to Malthus when you make your regular circuits?"

  "Yes, but I haven't had any for him in months."

  Zinzi tossed a glance of languid contempt at Sergei. Not since he nearly killed Malthus seven-year-old niece. I think Sergei's afraid of Malthus."

  Hoon quirked an eyebrow. Why was I not told of this?"

  "I promised Malthus I would tell you. However, I seem to have forgotten to."

  Sergei shifted in his chair to look more fully at her. Ros lives?"

  "All you managed to do was damage her leg. I suspect that's because you had to spread them so far open to get your damned piece into her."

  "Enough, Zinzi! Hoon snapped his fingers at her. Sergei, Malthus betrayed me. He sent me the wrong child in place of Darmyk. Next time you have messages for him; issue a small vengeance for me. I will see you well rewarded. Now, you are dismissed. You will find the larder well stocked. You may have three tidbits, but no more."

  "Are there any special ones?"

  "Yes. The thane's six year old daughter."

  The bound lycan issued a string of curses followed by pleading when he heard that. Not Shelley. Please not Shelley."

  Hoon gestured for Sergei to wait and strolled over to the lycan. I am a mon of my word. Tell me where your father is, and I will see that your sister remains safe."

  Lord Hoon's honor was as famed as his savagery. When he gave his word he kept it; however, he was not above twisting it if he had left himself some wiggle room in the phrasing. A thin smile lit Hoon's face as he gazed expectantly at Thane Selwyn's sixteen-year-old heir, Ocvran.

  "Wolffgard. The thanes are holding a witan. Claw is dead and the succession is in doubt. A priest, who Jumps, fetched him four days ago."

  Hoon laughed softly. He had known the directions that Zinzi and Sergei's conversations usually went, and had counted on it to influence Selwyn's heir in ways that direct threats and torture had not. I guess he is yours after all, Zinzi. But first fetch Shelley from the larder so she can keep her brother company."

  * * * *

  Shelley, a delicate little bitch, sloe-eyed and blonde, hugged Gilzean. The two cubs sat wailing on the sofa in Zinzi's bedchamber, filling her ears with their unwelcome noises. Zinzi had once more been relegated to the role of cub sitter until Sergei left the area. She resented being stuck with them. Children got on her nerves and hampered her lifestyle.

  Malthus had sent Gilzean to Hoon, with the cub's mind altered into believing that he was Darmyk. Hoon sensed the lie, broke Malthus coercions in Gilzean's mind, and discovered that Malthus had double-crossed him for reasons that Hoon had yet to be certain of. He now intended to punish Malthus for it. Zinzi wanted to get on with the punishing, and be quit of the cubs.

  Ocvran, Shelley's brother, lay nude in the middle of Zinzi's bed. She straddled him, her fangs deep in his throat, feeding noisily. He trembled and spasmed beneath her, whimpering. Shelley gave another piercing shriek, which ruined Zinzi's mood further.

  "That's enough! The Waejontori Princess Silkanna Mircala de Waejonan swept into the room, her dark eyes flashing with righteous fury. I won't have you doing it in front of the cubs."

  Zinzi withdrew from Ocvran, and glared at her. Blood flowed freely from the wound in his neck. When Zinzi first encountered her, she had liked Silkie. Lord Hoon had sent Zinzi to investigate rumors of a newborn Lemyari vampire in the Sharani occupied sections of Southern Waejontor. She returned with Silkie, who had first appeared to be a confused eighteen-year-old newborn. Zinzi learned later that Silk
ie had been in her mid forties when she drank a vial of Hoon's blood laced with spells to restore her youth. Silkie had been a favorite of Hoon's more than twenty years ago; and now with her admission into the dark ranks, she was his favorite once more.

  "Then keep them away from me."

  "Close the wound, Zinzi or he's going to bleed out. Silkie's eyes had an edge that only a long hard life could have given them. Everything about her reflected the inner toughness that had ensured her survival in escaping and then hiding from her sa'necari relatives who wanted to sacrifice her to Bellocar, and the Sharani who would have burnt her alive for being born into the ruling family.

  "That might be entertaining. Zinzi bent and licked it closed. But I want him to last awhile. He has a pleasant face."

  Silkie took Shelley by the hand, hoisted Gilzean to her hip, and left. No one troubled her in passing. No one questioned why she had the two cubs with her. No one dared. Silkie was not only Hoon's favorite, but a Princess of the Blood of Waejonan; and therefore she had more freedom in the manor than anyone else. She had made many mistakes over the years. Zinzi had been happy to inform her of them. Her decision to drink Hoon's blood, which he had given her more than twenty years ago, had been predicated upon hearing that her only hope for escape from Hell's Widow, Kynyr Maguire, was dead. It had been a lie. Not only was Kynyr alive, but her son, Cooley, was with him. Hoon would never have learned about Cooley's existence had Silkie not given into despair and fled to the vampire lover of her youth. Hoon wanted Cooley as a pawn in his game against the Waejontori Queen, Silkie's half sister.

  She had loved Cullen Blackwood, a profane, rambunctious lycan military courier, with all of her heart; and borne him a son. The Butchering Serpent, a sa'necari bounty hunter and mercenary, murdered Cullen in front of her. A genocidal mastermind, the Serpent had killed hundreds of lycans in vicious experiments that had included vivisections and toxin testings, leaving behind mass graves on a deserted estate in the north. Silkie knew that Hoon had an agent in Wolffgard named Malthus; but whether or not Malthus was the Serpent himself still lay in question.