Blood Prince (Heir of the Blood Curse) Read online

  “Do you mind sharing your misery with your only cousin?” Bastian sat in the seat across the table.

  “Not at all.” Toviah raised his hand for another round of drinks.

  “What is bothering you now? You don’t seem yourself lately.” Bastian picked up the glass of wine that sat between them.

  “My mother.”

  “Enough said.” Bastian took a long sip of his drink.

  “Indeed.” Toviah glanced out the window at the lights across the Grand Canal.

  “Maybe your fire haired Countess will make an appearance?”

  Toviah’s heart caught in his throat. He knew all too well it was not possible, her body most likely still floating in the gondola out at sea by now. “I doubt it.”

  “Do you not like the one betrothed to you? You could do much worse,” Bastian chuckled.

  “I think in this instance, my mother will not get what she wants.”

  “How do you suppose that? The Queen always gets what she wants.” Bastian raised his eyebrows.

  “Wait and see.” Toviah winked.

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Not at all. Afterall, I am my mother’s only son.”

  “Did you miss me?” Hands snaked around from behind Toviah and covered the eyelets of his black jewel incrusted mask.

  Toviah froze.

  “Well, my Prince?”

  Toviah broke out in a cold sweat, from both fear and relief. He touched the hands that were obstructing his eyesight and brought them down around his neck.

  “Are you surprised to see me?” Veronica whispered into his ear, her warm breath sending goose bumps down his arms.

  “That is my cue to leave. Enjoy yourselves, young ones.” Bastian winked at Toviah before escaping.

  “Come with me.” Toviah grabbed the Countess’s hand and dragged her after him into one of the empty rooms and shut the door behind them. He stood frozen to the spot, all colour had drained out of his features. The glow from the Blood Moon warmed the room in an orange haze, the shadows from the drapes played with Toviah’s eyes.

  “What’s the matter, my Prince? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Veronica smiled.

  “Maybe I have.” Toviah swallowed. He closed the gap between them and held her face in his palms. His eyes pleaded this was real. That the Countess truly stood before him.

  “Are you ill, my Prince?”

  “Quite the contrary. I have never been better than at this very moment.”

  “Oh.” A look of surprise washed over the Countess’s features. “I’m glad I bring you so much joy.”

  “You have no idea.” Toviah leaned in and breathed her in. The relief that flowed through him was undeniable.

  Veronica placed her hands on the Prince’s muscled stomach and leant up until she was mere inches from his inviting lips. “Do you grant me another wish the stars did not?”

  Toviah’s hands trembled, his need and desire returned. The magic the Countess held over him, he did not understand. How could he betray the one he loved again? “Yes,” he whispered against her lips before he claimed them.

  Toviah picked the Countess up and carried her to the velvet daybed, their frenzied movements caused the daybed to slide. “Would you be quiet.” Toviah bit down on the tender area between the Countess’s neck and shoulder.

  Veronica squealed in response. “My Prince, you must be more gentle or I will be unable to contain my excitement.”

  “Lift your skirts,” Toviah growled as he sat up and undid his pants, his eyes wild with excitement.

  Veronica scrambled to do as she was told before she pulled the Prince on top of her.

  “Now be quiet Countess or the whole Kingdom will know what we are up to.” Toviah put his hand over the Countess’s mouth.

  Veronica’s muffled cry escaped through the Prince’s fingers as he pushed into her, the pain in her eyes only there for a moment. “Are you alright?” Toviah whispered against her ear.

  The Countess nodded in response and wrapped her legs tight around the Prince’s waist, the daybed scraped against the polished floorboards with every thrust. The outside world blocked out by need and desire. Neither the Prince or the Countess heard the click of the door or the noticed the person who stood and watched in silence.

  An ear piercing screech jolted Toviah from his lust filled mistake. He jumped up at once, leaving the Countess sprawled on the sofa bed. His eyes searched the darkened room and came to a stop at the figure who stood at the door, a figure wearing a ballgown. Toviah could not make out who the masked lady was and took a few careful strides toward them, halting once the light switched on.

  “Elisabetta, my love.” Toviah dropped to his knees.

  “You fool. Do not speak.” Elisabetta’s eyes iced over.

  “Please forgive me,” Toviah pleaded.

  “Get to your feet.” The viciousness coating each word.

  Toviah was unable to stand, his legs were numb.

  “Get up you foolish Prince.” Elisabetta closed the gap between them, her movements feline and fluid. She grabbed Toviah by the arm and without any effort, pulled him to his feet.

  Toviah glanced at the Countess, who stood at the day bed unable to escape.

  “This is why you invited me to this ball? To see you and this wench in all your glory?”

  “No, my love.” Toviah bowed his head in defeat.

  “Hush.” Elisabetta held her hand up.

  The Countess fixed herself and stood at the far end of the room.

  “Who are you?” Elisabetta glared at the Countess.

  “Countess Veronica. Betrothed to the Prince.” Veronica smiled wickedly.

  Elisabetta charged at Veronica, teeth bared, a snarl erupting from her lungs. The two women hurtled into the far wall. Toviah heard the thud of Veronica’s head hit the polished wood.

  “You are finished,” Elisabetta growled.

  “Stop at once,” Toviah shouted as he jumped over the sofa bed to pull Elisabetta away.

  Toviah was a second too late and watched on in horror as Elisabetta tore at the Countess’s throat and spat the mouthful of flesh onto the ground. A gurgled cry escaped Veronica before she fell to the ground, her lifeless body bled out over the colourful rug. Toviah stood frozen, unable to understand what had occurred.

  “Stupid girl.” Elisabetta wiped the blood form her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “What have you done?”

  “What have you done?” Elisabetta turned her attention on the Prince, teeth bared with eyes that glowed red.

  Toviah took a slow step backward, pure fear in his heart. “I can fix this.” He held up his hands in surrender.

  “Fix this.” Elisabetta laughed. “You stupid, love sick fool. This is what I am. This is what I do.”

  “I don’t understand.” Toviah retreated until he bumped into the writing desk.

  “You don’t see past your royal self.” Elisabetta prowled toward the Prince.

  “Stay back. The guards will be here any minute.”

  A crazed cackle bubbled out of Elisabetta. “What can they do?”

  Toviah glanced at the door, at the only escape out of the room.

  “If you had only had eyes for me, my Prince.”

  “I do my love. Please believe me,” Toviah pleaded.

  Elisabetta stepped closer to the Prince and placed her hands on his chest. She could feel his rapid heartbeat through his overcoat. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.” Toviah swallowed.

  Her hands snaked up to his neck and she pulled him toward her, resting her lips against his. “These lips were only mine Toviah,” she said his name with fury.

  “They still are my love.” His voice seized in his throat.

  “You lie.”

  “Let me fix this mess.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

  “You ruined everything,” Elisabetta whispered into his ear, her tone had become dangerously quiet.

  The Pri
nce felt a sharp sting to his neck and he tried to pry Elisabetta off him. Her vice like grip held him in place as she suckled. “Elisabetta stop.” He pushed at her with no avail and struggled against her as she fed on him. He dug his fingers into her face to move her, but failed. “Elisabetta stop,” he whimpered.

  The King and his guards stormed through the door. “Kill her,” the King ordered.

  Elisabetta disappeared in a mere second, straight out the open window. It was a long drop to the water and the guards stopped at the windows, not stupid to follow.

  “Are you alright my son?” The King was at Toviah’s side at once.

  “I’m bleeding.” Toviah held his hand over his neck.

  “Show me.”

  Toviah removed his hand and the colour drained from the King. “Marco, get the healer.”

  “What about Veronica?” Toviah could not bring himself to look at her.

  “She is gone, my son,” the King sighed.

  Chapter Eight

  The thorns dug into the Prince’s cold flesh, the vines had grown around his wrists, ankles and throat at rapid speed, helped along with blood magic from a witch the Queen had sourced. Soon he would be consumed by the darkness, as though he never existed. Toviah tried to move but the thorns bore deeper, drawing blood and he cried out in frustration. The Queen’s guards had been ordered to throw him in the cells after the incident with the Countess and Elisabetta. The cells under the palace floors housed the criminals of Venezia, not the future King.

  “Toviah,” a whisper brushed against his ears.

  “Show yourself.” Toviah squinted into the darkness.

  “It is me, Bastian. I have brought the Seer.”

  A small glow from the lantern illuminated the small window before the latch was pulled and the door opened. Toviah’s eyes adjusted to the assault of the artificial light.

  “It burns,” Toviah cried out.

  “We are not too late.” The Seer knelt down beside the Prince.

  “Too late for what?” Toviah asked.

  “Let’s not worry about that now, my Prince. We have more pressing matters to attend to .”

  “They are piercing my skin.” Toviah tried to move, but the vines held him in place.

  “Don’t move, you will do more harm.” The Seer’s hands hovered over the vines wrapped around Toviah’s neck.

  “Why has my mother done this?” Toviah jerked.

  “You are now one with that monster that did this to you, my Prince,” the Seer sighed.

  “Elisabetta?” Toviah whispered her name, and glanced around the cell, fearful it would summon her.

  “Yes, your taste in women leaves much to be desired,” Bastian chuckled.

  “Only you would find an opportunity to laugh at me in this situation.” Toviah let out a snort. “I still don’t understand why I was thrown into the cells.”

  “Elisabetta is a vampire, my Prince,” the Seer said.

  “A vampire. How?” Toviah stuttered. “For how long?”

  “Elisabetta has been a vampire for many, many years. Long before your parents were born.”

  “I don’t understand. I was always taught they were a myth. A story made to frighten children.”

  “A vampire is as real as you or I, my Prince, and I’m afraid you are now one of them.”

  “You perform magic, fix me.” Toviah’s eyes were crazed with fear.

  “I cannot perform such magic. Not a soul can change you back to as you were. If you don’t feed before sunrise, you will no longer be.”

  “Please tell me this is all a misunderstanding Bastian?” Toviah pleaded with his cousin.

  “I’m sorry.” Bastian knelt down and held onto his cousins arm.

  “Please?” Toviah sobbed.

  “I have to call upon a favour. I cannot remove these vines. I must go, but I will be back before the hour.” The Seer nodded to Bastian.

  “I will stay with him.” Bastian sat next to his cousin.

  “Do not let the guards in this cell. Do you hear me boy? Fight with all you have, if they shall descend upon you.” With that, the Seer disappeared into the darkness.

  “Did he?” Bastian blinked.

  “He did,” Toviah confirmed. “It’s his party trick. He appears and disappears as he pleases.”

  “If only he could make you disappear out of these vines that have you trapped down here.” Bastian pulled at the vine from where it grew out of the wall.

  “It’s no use. I’ve tried. I’m well and truly going to meet my end by the rise of the sun.”

  “I will not allow it.” Bastian pulled his knife off his belt.

  Toviah watched in admiration as his only cousin, the man who he thought of as his brother, hacked at the vine full of thorns. In some sort of magical trickery, each branch that was cut off grew back in mere seconds.

  “You stupid plant,” Bastian growled as he tore at the vines with everything he had in him. His hands and arms were covered in his blood, gashed from the sharp thorns.

  “Leave it. The Seer will be back soon.”

  “I will not let you die cousin.” Bastian slumped against the wall in defeat.

  “I think I rather die than live like the monster that turned me.”

  “No. I won’t allow it. You have to live on Toviah. You must promise me.” Bastian slid down the damp stone wall until he was seated next to his cousin.

  “How can I live from feeding on others? It is absurd,” Toviah’s breath caught in his throat.

  “You have no choice.” The Seer appeared in the doorway.

  An elderly woman, with snow white hair, crept in behind the Seer. She wore a full length skirt decorated in small embroidered flowers and a shawl around her shoulders. Her eyes, ice blue as the clearest sky, landed on the Prince, scrutinising and calculating. Her mouth set in a grim line. The witch knew what she had to do but she would not perform her ritual without the blood she bargained for.

  “This is the victim?” Her voice echoed in the Prince’s ears.

  Toviah cried out in pain, the noises becoming too much for him.

  “It will be over soon,” the Seer reassured him.

  “Has he fed?” The witch asked.

  “Fed?” Toviah shuddered.

  “You must feed before I can take blood. If I can’t have your blood, I will not cast the spell,” the witch said.

  “What spell?” Toviah asked.

  “To release the vines,” the Seer answered.

  “You aren’t changing me back to human?” Toviah thrashed against the vines.

  “No, I do not know such a spell.” The witch stared at him.

  “You must. Please?”

  “Hush.” The witch waved her hand in the air and the tang of magic fell upon the Prince’s tongue.

  “Where is the blood source?” The Witch asked the Seer.

  At that very moment a young woman appeared at the door, her eyes unfocused. She looked as though she floated on an invisible current, her light and airy dress flowed behind her as she moved toward the Prince. “As you requested.” Her voice a light wisp in the cold air.

  Toviah swallowed and stared at the beauty before him. He could not go through with this. He would rather die. “I can’t do this.”

  “You must.” Bastian grabbed his cousin by the shoulders and glared at him.

  “It is only a small taste, my Prince. No harm will come to this young lady,” the Seer explained.

  “Then what? I am supposed to live as a monster.”

  “If you had of listened to me from the beginning, we would not be in this predicament.” The Seer raised his eyebrows.

  “How is one to know what your stupid riddles mean?” Toviah seethed.

  “The liquid was for your love, my Prince. It is not my fault you gave it to the Countess.”

  The Prince jerked with frustration. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” His mouth set in a hard line.

  The young woman stepped closer to the Prince and extended her wrist toward him,
her eyes void of emotion.

  Toviah stared at her, his breath caught in his lungs. “I can’t move.”

  The young woman edged forward until her wrist hovered above the Prince’s head.

  “Now what?” Toviah chuckled, a crazed gleam in his eyes.

  The Seer took the young woman’s wrist and with one swipe, sliced it open. The crimson blood pooled at the cut before making a snake like pattern down her pale arm. The Seer hovered her wrist above the Prince’s mouth. “Are you ready, my Prince?”

  With eyes closed tight, Toviah hesitated before he opened his mouth to allow the warm blood to drip in. “I will never forgive you for this,” he whispered as he licked his lips and swallowed the metallic taste in his mouth. Silence fell, filled only by his heaved breaths.

  A shift in the air around the Prince signalled the start of the change. He sat in complete stillness as the agony ripped through his once human body and every fibre of who he was would soon disappear forever. The metallic tang of magic absorbed through every pore and burned him like acid. The Prince did not allow the others to know the torture the change had on his whole being, he controlled his suffering in silence. Soon this would be over and he would get his revenge, for the Prince had only pure hatred for the one who bestowed this upon him.

  Chapter Nine

  The witch stepped forward, she waved the smoky bunch of herbs around the Prince until he was veiled in a thick fog of blue smoke. She quietly chanted incantations as she set about her ritual. The air around the Prince vibrated and the stench of burning flesh filled the small cell.

  “I have what I need. Once I leave the cell, the vines will disappear with me.” The witch gathered her supplies and the vials of the Royal blood, and scurried out the cell door.

  “I think it is best if you leave Bastian,” the Seer announced.

  “I am not going anywhere. I am here for him until the end.”