Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(30)
Author: Gena Showalter

Where was she? Had she—?

Another memory grabbed hold of his attention, using so much force he could only grunt with the pain. Images, voices, blurring together, painting another scene.

“Tighten your hold, boy. You’ll lose your sword in seconds with that puny of a grip.”

He was still a boy, a little older now, standing in front of a tall, muscled man. Black-as-night hair, eyes of polished silver. He wore a fine silk shirt and leather trousers, his boots unscuffed and tied just under his knees. A man of wealth, no question. A man of authority and knowledge.

A warrior.

They stood in the center of a courtyard, lovely plants and flowers thriving all around them. The air was sweet, the ground beneath their feet a lush, springy emerald. Smooth marble walls enclosed the entire area, yet there was no ceiling, allowing morning sunlight to pour inside and reflect off the veins of gold. And just above them, balconies opened up from each of the royal bedrooms, welcoming spectators.

A young dark-haired boy was perched on the ledge of the balcony to Nicolai’s right, watching while twirling a dagger. He wanted to puff up his chest and pound. He was about to be all kinds of impressive for his younger brother. He could toss with deadly accuracy, stab with lethal force and, when he concentrated, wield two swords at once.

“Nicolai,” the man in front of him said, impatient. “Are you paying attention to me?”

“Of course not. Otherwise, I would have heard what you said, and you wouldn’t be about to repeat yourself.”

Dayn chuckled.

Father was not amused, and did not reward Nicolai for his honesty. “I have meetings to attend, son. Meetings in another kingdom, which means you will be in charge while I’m gone. I need to know you can defend yourself and those you love. Pay attention. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” He focused on the happenings before him, weighing the metal in his hands. “Why must we practice over and over again? I’m good.”

“You’re good, but you need to be great. Last time I managed to stab you in the back so badly you scarred!” There was hard admonishment in his father’s voice. “You must learn to work with all weapons, at all times of the day and night. You must work with one hand, both hands, standing, sitting and injured. Without becoming distracted.”

Nicolai raised his chin. “Why can’t I just kill my opponents with my fangs and be done with it?” He’d done so before. Many times. Until his mother’s prediction had come true, and he’d destroyed an entire village simply to punish a man for beating his wife.

He’d at last taken control of his emotions and hadn’t lost his temper since. That didn’t mean his fangs were useless, though.

“And if your fangs have been pried out of your mouth?” his father demanded.

“No one would ever be foolish enough to remove my fangs. Mother says I’m the most powerful vampire in the world. I can walk in the light, and I can steal power from anyone I choose.”

“No, she says you will be.” His father’s expression hardened. “You are a prince, Nicolai. The crown prince. Many in this world and the other will covet your direct line to my throne. Many will try and hurt you simply to hurt me. You must know how to defend yourself, always, for every situation.”

Nicolai gave the sword another once-over. Long, thin and polished to a vibrant shine. He was not used to its heaviness, or the thickness of the hilt. “Very well. I will train some more, but why are you not teaching Dayn?”

“So many questions.” His father sighed.

“Why must he watch? He’s a prince, too, you know.” And so very eager to learn. Each day, after Nicolai’s lessons, Dayn begged to be taught. Nicolai could never resist him.

He loved his brother, and would die for him. A boy most in the palace feared. Dayn had an affinity with the animals that roamed the grounds, preferring to run with them rather than to walk alongside his own people.

Nicolai understood his brother’s need. Sometimes he, too, felt animalistic in nature, most especially when his temper used to overtake him, shattering his control and leaving only a need to destroy, to hurt others.

“His time will come,” the king said. “Soon.”

“But not the new princess, right? She’ll always be too delicate.” He sneered the last.

“Breena is newly born, and she is not a blood drinker like you and Dayn. She is a witch like her mother. You and Dayn must always protect her. In turn, she will heal your people after battle as your mother used to do.”

Shame had Nicolai looking down at his dirty boots. He was the reason his mother could no longer heal the wounds of others. He hadn’t meant to, but he had stolen her ability. She hadn’t blamed him, hadn’t even yelled at him.

He would do anything to return the ability to her. Yet, he could not. Once taken, he could not give back. Ever. He’d tried, over and over again. The only thing he could do, his mother had said, was learn how to control his newly discovered talent for absorbing the magic of others. And he had, remaining in his bedroom for weeks, reading, studying and practicing.

“Do you think I’ll be a great leader, like you?” he asked.

“I think you and your questions will be the death of me, boy.” The king held out his own sword, touching the metal against Nicolai’s. “Let us begin.”

Darkness.

Nicolai was panting now, sweating uncontrollably. Trembling. His hands ached. He looked at them. He must have clawed at his temples, trying to stop the pain from exploding through him, because his nail beds were bloody, his claws mere stumps.

His father had warned him.

His father. The king.

His name truly was Nicolai. Odette had not lied about that. She’d known who and what he was. They all had. So highborn, Laila had liked to say, and now he knew why. He was a prince. A crown prince, and one day, a king.

A brother to Breena. His sister. His beautiful baby sister with her golden curls. She’d grown into a lovely woman with a heart of fire, despite the fact that she was always protected, always guarded. Nicolai had snuck her out a few times, wanting her to have a taste of the freedom he took for granted. Where was she now?

Dayn, the brother closest to him, as dark and dangerous as the night, and just as beloved. Where was he?

His father, proud and strong. Honorable, determined. Unwilling to back away from any challenge. Where was he?

His mother, soft and gentle, so nurturing, even in the face of his most violent tempers. Where was she?

Micah, the youngest son, so full of life. Where was he?