The Lost Duke: Royal Blood, #3

By Kristen Gupton

Garhan Dante Aviatrov, a name erased from history. His existence will test everything Keiran Sipesh thinks he knows about Athan's involvement with his family.

 

With most of his family's true past hidden from him, Keiran has been left with more questions than answers.  Now, his aunt, Alerian Queen Adira Aviatrov, will reach out to him.  Needing answers, Keiran is eager accept her invitation.

 

Being one of the few who know the truth about Athan's dealings with their family, however, has left Adira bitter. She'll do anything in her power to keep another vampire from ruling. Adira has no qualms with turning on family, and Keiran will be no exception.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristen Gupton
• Release date: Nov 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781536575859

Book preview

Chapter

1

QUEEN ADIRA AVIATROV sat in the courtyard with a letter gripped in her trembling hands. Her entire body shook, tears in her eyes as she read it.

Her advisor neared, sitting on the stone bench beside her. What has you in such a state?

She let out an unsteady breath, dropping the letter to her lap. Her green eyes closed as another tear coursed down her cheek. This arrived from Tordania. Keiran has taken the throne, and he wants information about my sister.

Victri reached over and snagged the letter. He scanned the oddly backward-slanted script before lowering it. My Tordanian isn’t as good as it used to be. What, exactly, does it say?

It says Turis Lee died at the onset of winter. Adira rose and pinched the bridge of her nose. The tendrils of a stress-induced headache wound up the back of her neck. Keiran wrote that himself. His father withheld his mother’s identity from him. He’s since found out, and he’s desperate to learn about her.

Victri folded the letter and offered it back to her. You’ve known this day would come. I’m honestly surprised it took this long.

I thought that bastard would outlive me, Adira replied, taking the letter back.

The first time we heard rumors about him, you should’ve acted, Victri said.

Ice filled her veins. I know, but while Keiran might be a vampire, he’s still my blood. Sending an assassin when he was a boy would’ve been simpler, but...

But now he’s the king, and his death will have a far-greater impact. Victri stood, crossing his arms over his chest. Killing him sooner may have given Turis Lee the motivation to sire another heir. You’ve wasted over twenty years, Adira. Your family swore an oath never to allow another vampire to seize control of a country, and your sister died pursuing the one who remained. Your inaction has resulted in the ascension of another.

He’s still my blood! Adira shot back, her anger rising, only compounding the pain in her skull. While I appreciate my family’s oath, my sister was a fanatic and in poor mental health.

And what if Ilana had survived to see her second son tainted with vampirism like the first? Victri asked, his spine straightening. Do you think it would’ve helped her mental state?

Adira ripped her attention away from her advisor to look over the surrounding garden, but the spring flowers offered no comfort. It would have broken her. I pray she died without knowing what Turis Lee intended to do to Keiran. She deserved none of what befell her. For her legacy to be bringing two damned vampires into the world? The gods have a sense of humor I will never understand.

The advisor moved into her line of sight. You know what’s at stake.

FATHER RANDALL BEEZLE leaned on the handle of a shovel, staring into the grave before him. He’d already removed the coffin from within, but the hole wasn’t empty. While trying to disassemble the pulleys and scaffold he’d lifted the coffin with, the entirety of it had collapsed, falling within.

I’m too old for this madness, he grumbled, letting the shovel fall to the side.

The long-abandoned paupers’ graveyard, with its accompanying decayed chapel, sat nestled in the forest. No one came there anymore, but he still ensured his seclusion before pulling a small glass bottle from a hidden pocket.

He plucked the cork free before taking a sip of spiced alcohol. Its heat washed over his lips and tongue, helping counter the cold nip in the early spring air. Mostly, though, he hoped it would dull the nagging ache of his overtaxed muscles.

Something moved through the litter of pine needles covering the ground.

He shoved the cork into the bottle and stowed it before spinning. Hello?

There was no one there.

Just a rabbit, Randall, he said, his shoulders rounding. He looked into the grave, wondering if pulling the wooden framework and pulleys out was worth the effort.

A crackling hiss broke the quiet.

Randall’s neck tingled, and he spun.

Nearby, a small, gray reptilian creature stood on two legs. Leathery wings hung at its sides, and a thin tail sliced through the air behind it in agitated sweeps.

Smell the rot in the ground, do you? Randall asked.

In his line of work, he’d dealt with demons before. Usually, they were nonphysical entities, but they could gain form if allowed to feed on specific energies. Worse yet, they could grow into larger, more dangerous things.

It took a few skittering steps before leaning forward and giving another hiss.

I’m afraid I won’t be feeding you today, Randall said.

With surprising agility, he stomped on the blade of his shovel, launching the handle up from the ground. He grabbed it and raised it over his head.

The demon came closer, exposing the tiny claws on its hands as it prepared to lunge, its red eyes wide with ravenous excitement.

Randall swung with all his strength, bringing the iron shovel head downward. The demon gave out another hiss before its body vanished, crumpling to the ground beneath the shovel’s blade with a dull crunch.

The priest didn’t stop there, however. He lifted the shovel and repeatedly struck the creature’s twitching body until only a gel of bones and blood remained.

Satisfied it was dead, he scooped the tiny demon’s corpse from the ground and chucked it into the open grave. With the scaffolding left within, he filled the grave, hiding all the evidence of what he’d done.

KEIRAN PRESSED HIS signet ring into the wax, sealing a contract before handing it to Sygian. That’s the last one. The remaining Sadoris have returned home, and our exports of coal can begin.

The aged advisor added it to the stack of dispatches he held. Before I forget, I received one more bit of news today, though we haven’t gotten it officially yet.

Keiran leaned forward, wrapping his hands over the edge of his desk. Is it word from the Alerians?

The deep-set lines in Sygian’s face gave way to a smile. No, Keiran, I’m afraid not. Not yet.

I suppose it’s still a little early. What is it?

The steel foundry in Stanth is in operation.

That fast? Keiran asked, eyes widening.

They were wise enough to keep it intact. With the advance you gave them, they got it operational quickly, he replied.

Keiran stood. That makes three of our eight in production. I never dared hope we’d turn things around so quickly.

It’s amazing what people will do when they no longer have a king waiting to pluck the coins they earn from their hands. Sygian backed toward the exit. You must act surprised for the messenger’s sake when he tells you tomorrow morning.

All right. Goodnight, Sygian. Keiran waited for him to go before stepping around his desk toward the fireplace. A roll of thunder came through the castle walls.

Keir?

He spun, finding Corina in the library’s doorway. Is it time to eat?

She wrung her hands together, closing the distance between them. I’m afraid eating tonight may have to happen outside the dining hall.

Why? What happened?

Nothing, but the time has come, Keir.

He narrowed his eyes. For?

I promised when you returned last winter, I would tell you about your mother, she said. I’m sorry it took until now, but...

I’m ready. Let’s go.

She let out a long breath. All right. To the courtyard. Get your cloak. It’s cold out.

KEIRAN EMERGED FROM the keep, fastening his cloak pin as he hurried down the steps. A wagon sat in the courtyard’s middle, Kanan waiting beside it.

He walked into the rain, tugging up his cloak’s hood. Are you involved in this?

Keep your mind blank, mouth shut, and get in the wagon, Kanan ordered.

The vampire frowned but did as told. When he climbed in, Corina lifted the edge of an oiled tarp she hid beneath and waved him to get under with her.

He settled in. We’re going to a lot of trouble to—

You heard him. Silence, Corina said.

The wagon jerked, and the sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard.

Keiran resigned to it and fell silent as the wagon rattled around them. Though he’d not had a drink of blood from the source since he’d killed Danier in the dead of winter, the anxiety coming from Corina was strong enough to feel. He wriggled closer, putting his arm around her shoulders.

ATHAN?

What, Sabetha?

I see something, she replied, her words punctuated by the clicking of her beak.

He turned from his wall of drawn portraits, finding his seer in the doorway of his room. The raven on his shoulder gave a low grock, and he reached up to scratch her neck. Is it important? It’s too late for you to be up.

The harpy stooped to clear the doorway, the clawed hands hanging from the distal joints of her wings clenching at her sides. Her leathery, gray feathers stood on end as her vacuous eyes scanned the room, her talons scratching the stone floor. Her mane of silver, down-like hair floated along in her wake, her head thrust forward with each step.

She stopped before him, her third eyelids raised in her exhaustion. Keiran is traveling.

Athan’s expression softened. I don’t want you getting sick from staying up too late.

You told me to watch him.

True, but not at the risk of making you ill. Where is he going? Another late-night drinking bender?

She swung her head. No. He’s with the nursemaid and old guard.

This late? Where are they going?

I see trees. Close to the castle. There was an old building, and then they vanished from my sight.

Athan sighed. She only reported images. Sometimes they warranted investigation, but this didn’t.

You likely lost sight from exhaustion. I doubt it’s anything I need to trouble myself with. Probably another antiquated Tordanian ritual. I have greater issues. That damned storm on our border has worsened. A messenger said it covered an entire fortification, killing all the soldiers within.

She let out a soft warble, her head dipping. I can’t see that. The storm, the border. Blank. Gone. Something hides it.

I’m leaving to investigate it myself. Having our only land passage to the east cut off by this damned thing...

I’ll watch Keiran, she said, her feathers standing on end.

Go to sleep, Little Bird. I can’t afford you getting sick. Without you, the world would be far harder to keep track of, Athan said. As for Keiran, I’m not worried. After his adventure with the Sadoris, he’ll stay where he belongs.

THE VIBRATIONS FROM the wagon’s wheels softened. Keiran knew they’d gone off the cobblestoned road but little more. Corina remained silent, only grunting when the wagon bounced too hard over a rut or rock.

Once the wagon stopped, Keiran threw back the tarp and stood. He pulled Corina to her feet. She offered an uncomfortable smile, bending to pick up a canvas sack she’d brought along.

Kanan appeared, helping Corina down. The two of you head in. I’ll secure the horse and be there shortly.

Keiran hopped from the wagon. The rain came down hard enough to render his night vision worthless.

He followed Corina, the ruins of Tordan Lea’s original stone church before them. He’d been there when he’d ventured from the castle on his deer hunts or to explore with Jerris.

Trees surrounded the ancient building, its walls covered in thick vines just beginning to get their spring leaves. The doors had long-since rotted away, the entrance a dark void between broken windows.

As they neared the steps, Father Beezle appeared from within. He offered them a smile. Keiran Sipesh and Corina Yosef, I invite you both to enter.

The vampire quirked a brow at his greeting.

Once inside, Corina pulled off her cloak and shook it. Are we free to speak, Father Beezle?

I conducted the rites as prescribed. No one may enter without being invited.

Keiran pulled his attention from the hole-riddled ceiling above. What rites? What’s all this about?

Randall sighed. While I’m generally not one for magic, I put a seal on this building.

Tension mounted across Keiran’s shoulders. Magic? Magic is forbidden! Father Beezle, you of all peo—

Randall shrugged, lifting a hand. My boy, sometimes we need all the help we can get. I promise you, if Lord Vercilla appeared, you’d want that seal. If he wouldn’t hesitate to use his magic against us, why shouldn’t we avail ourselves to its use as well?

Keiran looked at Corina. As long as it’s not what Peirte was doing.

Asking for protection isn’t a sin. The laws against magic were written by men, not God. He only tells us to avoid the dark arts, Randall said. It’s nothing more than a tool—no more evil than its user’s intentions.

Keiran caught movement and looked, seeing Kanan jogging up the steps. As he attempted entry, the barrier stopped him dead. He fell backward on the landing outside, mercifully not tumbling down the steps.

Father Beezle winced and hurried closer. Kanan Steiner, I invite you to enter!

Kanan rose with a growl. He neared the doorway again, holding his hands before him. What in the hell was that? It was like walking into a glass wall!

The seal, Randall said.

I thought it was to stop vampires! Kanan shot back.

"The ritual to stop everyone uninvited was simpler than the one only excluding vampires," the priest said.

While the other three talked, Keiran wandered. The pews had rotted and collapsed. While the roof still survived, the holes decayed through it allowed the rain in. An oil lamp sat on its simple stone altar. Wet, muddy drag marks ran down the center aisle. His eyes followed the tracks to a tarp-covered object lying before the altar.

The heavy scent of soil and soaked wood hit him. His instincts stopped him before he got any closer as he recognized what hid beneath the tarp.

A coffin.

Why is that here? he asked.

The others stopped talking and came closer.

Let’s talk before addressing that, Randall said.

The strength faded from Keiran’s legs, the compulsion to leave rising. What’s all of this about? I understand wanting to take precautions to keep Athan out of this, but I don’t like it.

I know you think we’re paranoid, but your mother’s warnings about Lord Vercilla all proved true, Father Beezle said, shuffling forward and motioning for Keiran to follow.

My mother’s warnings? Keiran remained behind Randall as they neared the coffin. A large puddle covered the floor around the water-logged box. However, the smell of human decay remained absent.

Randall stopped short of the coffin, easing to sit in one of the few dry places the church offered. Keiran remained standing, though Corina and Kanan passed him to join the priest.

Corina opened the bag she’d brought and set out a bottle of wine and four small packages. Come sit, Keir. You can eat while you listen.

Keiran went to them, his eyes not leaving the shrouded object before the altar. He pulled off his cloak and dropped it to the floor before landing upon it.

Corina handed him one of the individually wrapped meals, and he pulled the twine away from the heavy linen wrapping. He opened it across his lap. It was nothing extravagant, just bread and some venison. With his anxiety stirred by the secrecy and coffin’s presence, his appetite had withered anyway.

I apologize for this, Keir, Corina said, pulling four metal cups from the bag. I didn’t know the steps Father Beezle needed to take.

Keiran watched her pour wine into the cups. This isn’t what I’d expected. A warning would’ve been nice.

She didn’t know, Kanan said. "We each only knew pieces of what needed to happen, to keep Lord Vercilla from reading our minds and interfering."

Keiran nodded.

Keir, you’ve longed for this day, but this isn’t a simple story. There will be consequences, Kanan said.

What do you mean? Keiran asked.

Once we tell you...

What?

You’ll take on your mother’s quest, Kanan said. Your tendency to fixate and obsess on things...

Keiran’s anxiety stirred. My mother’s quest? What are you on about?

Start, Kanan. The boy can’t handle anymore, Corina said.

About forty-years ago, I’d just finished my military tenure and joined the Royal Guard, Kanan said. King Turis Lee was already nearing forty, and his first wife hadn’t yet given him an heir.

First wife? Keiran asked.

Aye, Turis Lee wiped her from the record just as he did your mother, Kanan said. Risa Veller, a Weslanese princess, sent years before to wed the king. He was horrible to her. The abuse and threats she suffered as she failed to conceive were terrible. Finally, however, she bore a daughter. Turis Lee was furious. He’d wanted a son to ensure the Sipesh lineage remained on the throne.

Wait, what? Keiran set his food aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I have a sister?

Had, Corina said, picking up one of Kanan’s hands. A few years after her birth, her mother died. Turis Lee wanted a son, and since Risa hadn’t provided one, he needed her replaced. Turis Lee gave his daughter to me to tend to. Kayla was a lovely child. Golden hair, ice-like eyes. But, as far as Turis Lee was concerned, she was worthless. He sent out petitions for another wife, and Ilana Aviatrov soon arrived.

Kanan cleared his throat. Seeing her in the castle sent Lord Vercilla into a rage during his next visit. While he’s always been wretched to the staff that was the one-and-only time I ever saw him threaten Turis Lee. Lord Vercilla ordered her kept behind locked doors when he was there.

Why? Keiran asked.

"She terrified him, Corina said. When I was close to Athan during our affair, I asked him why he was so afraid of Ilana. He told me she was only in Tordania to gain access to him."

Sh—she wanted to kill him? Keiran asked, lifting his cup of wine.

Aye, she did, Corina said. He claimed there was an Aviatrov family vow to eradicate vampires from positions of power.

Ilana told me that, too, but she never got the opportunity, since she was kept away from Lord Vercilla, Kanan said. Like Risa, Ilana failed to conceive. The years rolled by, and Turis Lee began threatening her. Produce a male heir or die. Finally, seventeen years after Kayla’s birth, you were born, but she still lost her life.

Turis Lee finally had his son, Corina said. There were only two problems. First, since Ilana contracted the Mother’s Plague, your likelihood of surviving infancy was dismal.

Second, my sister would have been first in the line of succession, Keiran said. My father had her killed, didn’t he?

Corina’s tears reflected the flickering lamplight. No, Keir. Athan made a deal with your father. He would infect you with vampirism, to assure your survival, in exchange for Kayla.

He took her? Keiran asked, an uncomfortable knot forming in his gut. Why?

Corina wiped her eyes. I don’t know. Athan only recently told me she took her own life some years later.

Kanan broke the reverent quiet, trying his best to stifle a sob, his chest heaving. Corina scooted closer to him and put her arm around his shoulders.

It was only the third time Keiran had seen him cry. Their emotions thickened the air, their mutual pain cutting through his heart.

He’d always suffered a deep-rooted guilt over his mother’s death. Now, knowing his birth had swept his sister aside compounded it.

The initial pangs of a migraine scraped the inside of his skull, and he dropped his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose. His birth had not only cost his mother’s life, but it had torn his sister from her rightful place, thrusting her into unimaginable misery in Athan’s servitude.

His lack of blood-relatives had always hurt. Knowing he was the reason they were dead made it worse.

Keir?

He met Father Beezle’s stare. Aye?

The priest offered him a faint smile. Your mother, she knew. She knew she wouldn’t survive your birth or get the chance to end Lord Vercilla. As she fell ill in her last days, she requested I come to the castle to pray for her. In private, she told me everything. She gave me something to pass on to the son she knew she would never meet.

What? he asked.

Randall struggled to his feet, his joints cracking. He pointed toward the altar. I think it’s time for you to meet your mother, so she may give it to you herself.

Keiran got up, the back of his neck prickling. She’s..?

Randall shuffled away. He reached the shrouded object’s side and pulled off the tarp.

As Keiran had feared, it was a coffin. Though mud caked its surface, the fact it was a simple peasant’s coffin was clear. What is this? She was a queen! She should have been cremated!

Randall shook his head. King Turis Lee wanted her removed without fanfare. He ordered me to dispose of her, just as he had with Queen Risa. Knowing I had to hide what she’d given to me, I brought her out here keeping it secret until Kanan told me the time had come.

Keiran’s attention landed on the coffin. What’s in there that’s so important?

The only thing she brought from Aleria, Father Beezle said. A sword.

A sword in a wet coffin with a decomposing body for twenty-four years will be in dire shape, Keiran said.

It’s not steel, and I couldn’t leave it anywhere Lord Vercilla could find it, Randall said. This was the best hiding spot I had.

Athan can read minds, Keiran shot back. If he’d wanted it, he would have known about it.

Your mother wasn’t like anyone else, Kanan said, getting up alongside Corina. Lord Vercilla couldn’t pry into her thoughts. That’s why she scared him.

And Ilana realized Lord Vercilla wouldn’t trouble himself with picking through my mind, Father Beezle added.

Keiran’s eyes burned. Though he’d never known the woman, he’d often wondered about her. What she’d endured only for a chance to get close to Athan...

Go on, Keiran, Father Beezle said, waving toward the coffin.

Couldn’t you have taken the sword out and given it to me? Keiran asked, unable to move any closer.

I dare not touch it again, Randall said. She warned me not to remove it from its sheath, but I had to see it before burying it. That brief exposure made me fall ill for nearly a season afterward.

Keiran’s brows knit. How can that be?

It’s not steel, and there’s a reason she had it to use against Athan, he replied. It does to your kind what other weapons cannot. Vampire magic cannot heal the wounds it creates, no matter how small.

So it can harm me?

It must cut you to harm you. Its ambient toxic effects are only dangerous to the uninfected, and only when unsheathed. Now, I buried it in the sheath, but in the event it shifted, or the sheath failed... Randall stepped away from the coffin. Do what you must, Keiran. Ilana has waited a long and lonely time to give it to you.

Keiran hung his head. He wiped away the tears, trying to summon the courage to open the coffin.

If you ever intend to go after Lord Vercilla, Keir, you’ll need it, Kanan said, dropping a hand on Keiran’s shoulder. While she never told me she possessed the damned thing, she told me tales of such a weapon. It’s what allowed her grandfather to drive the vampires out of Aleria.

If it’s toxic, how did he wield it to ki— His words came to an abrupt halt. Was my great-grandfather a damned vampire, too?

She never admitted as much, Kanan said. If he was a vampire, she didn’t inherit any traits of it. She didn’t drink blood, and she aged as the rest of us did.

I can’t do this, Keiran said.

He may have been a grown man, but staring at the plain wooden box rendered him a child. An initial flash of panic struck, his breaths coming fast, a cold tingle racing over his skin. He wanted to run, but if he moved at all, he’d simply curl up on the floor.

Damn it, Kanan said, keeping his hand on his shoulder. Son?

Keiran’s eyes went wide, his body shaking as irrational terror plowed through his thoughts. His ability to draw in a proper breath faded, tension seizing his lungs. I don’t want to do this!

The old man sighed, glancing at Corina. You said he’d grow out of these episodes, woman!

She shuffled closer, standing beside Kanan. The boy can’t help it. It will pass. Give him a moment. We’re not asking him to go pick flowers, for God’s sake.

Keiran felt Kanan’s grip tighten. He switched his gaze between him and Corina, his heart slamming against his ribs.

Corina picked up Keiran’s hand, forcibly stopping the tapping of his fingers against his thumb. Come back.

He fought to slow his breaths, a quiet whimper escaping him. The vortex of acute horror faded from the front of his mind, the invisible steel bands unwrapping from his chest.

You can do this, Keir, Kanan said.

The vampire nodded, his awareness of the outside world returning. He drew a full breath before moving forward.

He knelt on one knee beside the coffin, the muddy water soaking into his pants. Keiran wriggled his fingers under the lid’s lip, wet grit working beneath his nails as he pushed it upward.

The wood, swollen from years in the sodden ground, didn’t give way. Moisture had wedged the lid in tight, the entire coffin rocking up on one edge as he put all his strength into it.

The lid broke loose without warning, and the coffin fell to the floor, splashing mud and water outward. The top landed against the altar with a dull clatter.

Keiran slowly lowered his gaze. The skeleton he’d expected to see wasn’t there. Ice filled the coffin, his mother’s face protruding above its surface. Her flesh remained intact, having turned into a waxy, yellow substance. Ilana’s auburn hair fell onto the pillow she rested upon, disappearing into the ice. Her eyes were sunken, their slightly parted lids exposing voids beneath, and her lips were drawn back, her teeth visible.

While it wasn’t a pleasant sight, it wasn’t quite the horror he’d imagined. After nearly two-and-a-half decades in the ground, she looked remarkable.

Tears tracked down his cheeks, and he took a breath, finding no reek of decay. Instead, a faint, sweet scent rose from the coffin’s interior.

His focus moved from her face. Her hands lay on the hilt of a sword, the weapon’s sheath above the ice. A layer of dark sediment coated the hilt and sheath. He reached out, sliding it from beneath her hands.

Is it still sheathed? Father Beezle asked.

Aye, it’s intact. It’s safe, Keiran replied, his throat dry. He stood up and stepped away from the coffin.

His three companions neared to look at Ilana’s remains.

My God, she’s incorruptible, Father Beezle said, looking her over.

Corina gasped, covering her mouth with her hands before giving into quiet tears.

Kanan stood at Corina’s side, putting his arm around her shoulders. How is this possible? Surely, she wasn’t frozen during the summers that have passed.

Perfect conditions, divine intervention, Randall said. Who can say?

It was a little late for divine intervention once she was buried, Kanan said.

Keiran turned