The Duke of Tremont II - Bloodspell

Chapter 1

Author's Note:  This is the sequel to "The Duke of Tremont", which is a story I wrote a few years ago.  It will help you greatly to read that, before you tackle this one.  Much thanks to my fabulous beta, Thyme

 

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Justin Taylor, first lieutenant to the Duke of Tremont, and former heir of the Earldom of Westlake, lay next to his handsome lover trying to catch his breath after a heated session of lovemaking. He hoisted himself up onto his elbow and began carding gentle fingers through soft, if slightly sweaty, chestnut hair. “Hmm, that was wonderful,” he breathed out softly. “I missed you.” He shivered slightly from the cool draft that blew across his naked shoulders.

“And I you,” answered Brian, the Duke of Tremont. He sat up in their grand four poster bed and yanked their heavy, blue velvet cover over himself and Justin, pulling the young man down upon his chest as he lay back down. “I think I shall write a decree.”

“Oh, and what will it say, My Lord?” Justin asked, using the name that had become a term of affection for the two.

“It shall say that Justin Taylor may not leave my side for any period longer than one week.”

Justin snorted and lifted his head off Brian’s chest to meet his lover’s gaze. “Really, Brian, I was only gone for two weeks. Not that long at all.”

“I disagree. Two weeks is too long. Ask anyone here. They all will tell you that I was impossible to live with after the first week. In fact I believe they will all support this new decree wholeheartedly.”

Justin studied Brian’s serious face for a moment, and then smiled fondly at his lover. “Brian, please tell me you were not short with everyone. The whole castle gets out of sorts when you are a grouch.”

Brian nodded smugly as if proving his point. “That is why my new rule will be a smashing success.”

“Well, you could have come with me, you know. In fact Molly and Hunter were very disappointed that you did not, not to mention the rest of our family. It’s not every day, one’s firstborn is christened, and it had been way too long since I visited Westlake. I‘m so glad Molly decided to have the baby in our old home and not Backroma.”

“I know.” Brian planted a kiss on Justin’s head. “I wish that I could have gone to see the new bairn, but duty called here, and I had to be here to help deal with the troubles the drought this summer brought on, as you well know. Perhaps next time. So tell me about the babe. Does he favor your sister or my nephew? Is he as handsome as his two uncles?”

“That would be great-uncle in your case.”

“Take that back,” Brian exclaimed as he began to tickle Justin’s sides. “I am not nearly old enough to be a great anything.”

Justin laughed as he tried to pull away from the playful fingers. Finally Brian let up so Justin could continue. “He is a beautiful child, with the best assets of his mother and father, and he seems to be very calm and cooperative as well.”

“Ah, that is good, indeed,” Brian stated as he pulled Justin back to him and kissed him soundly. “How is my brother, and his family?” He asked as he pulled away from the kiss, but kept physical contact with Justin by stroking the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Well, as I tried to tell you when I first arrived, before I was so rudely interrupted by your practically dragging me to our bed like some savage,” Justin teased. “King Jonathan and Queen Elaine are both well. They are enjoying being grandparents again. They send their love, as does Tim. He and Ethan were both there, too.”

“And just how is my young nephew faring with his bard?”

Justin made a face. “They are quite disgustingly in love. I’ve never seen such sappy mooning in my life, Brian.” Justin shifted on the bed so that he backed up to Brian’s chest.

“Do you ever wish that I was more sappy and mooning with you?” Brian asked quietly as he wrapped his arms around his lover. “Perhaps you should have chosen my nephew over me those years ago,” he added teasingly.

Justin swatted at Brian’s hands as he reddened at the thought of Tim‘s advances upon him when they had first met. “Oh, yes, just toss my soul mate aside for pretty words. That is so like me, my lord.” He turned to face Brian again and stroked his face gently. “You are perfect, Brian. Just the way you are.”

Now it was Brian’s turn to snort, but he pulled Justin into another loving kiss, letting the link between them open fully so that Justin could feel how much Brian had truly missed him while he had been away.

Justin lost himself in the kiss, and the passionate fire that seemed to always burn just below the surface between them. Brian once again reached over to the bedside table for the oil they used for their lovemaking. He surprised Justin by rubbing it on Justin’s cock this time and then transferring the remainder to his lover’s fingers. “Now it is your turn to make me yours again as well,” he said softly as he shifted onto his stomach.

Justin smiled brightly. “My pleasure, my lord.” Brian just grunted as Justin inserted a finger into his tight hole. “Perhaps I should leave more often if this is my reward for returning.” Justin gently added another finger.

“But remember the decree,” Brian half gasped, half moaned as Justin worked his fingers around.

“Hmm, doesn’t seem like you’re in much of a position to decree anything at the moment,” Justin replied cheekily.

“And…oh, God, yes…right…there…I suggest you get going…uh…before I change…yessss….my mind… ohhhhh…” Brian trailed off as Justin eased his cock inside his lover and waited for him to adjust.

“As you wish, my lord,” Justin said softly as he began a steady rhythm into his love.

 

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Far away in another land, in a very different castle, a man sat alone in his opulent apartment, schooling his face to show the proper grief as his visitor was shown in.

“Your highness.” It was king Gabriel of Maynor’s personal priest, and he bowed to the dark haired man, who remained seated.

“So, my brother is gone, then?” asked the man from his spot in his plush chair.

“Yes, Duke James. The king passed away in his sleep last night,” he replied in a wavering voice.

Duke James of Stockwell lowered his head in mourning. “What of my young nephew?” he asked quietly.

“He is in his apartment and said to be taking the loss very hard, my lord. Unfortunately, he is beginning to show symptoms of the same illness.” The man was barely containing his own grief at the loss of his beloved king. “At any rate, since prince Tristan is not yet of majority, we must announce you as regent as soon as possible.”

“A sad state of affairs to be sure,” replied the Duke, wiping a tear from his own eye. “I never wished to rule.”

“I know you did not, My Lord, but I know you will provide wise counsel for your nephew. Hopefully, in the meantime our healers can find a cure for the young prince.”

“Yes, that is all we can hope,” replied Duke James in a resigned voice. “Please leave me now,” he told the other man.

When the door closed the duke let a small smile play across his face.

 

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In another part of the same castle, a boy of fifteen lay across his bed, lost in his grief. The door opened, admitting a slight, but muscular man into the room. He eyed the boy and ran a hand through his short cropped, light brown hair. “My Prince,” he called quietly.

Young Prince Tristan of Maynor looked up and quickly wiped his eyes. “Uncle Blake?” he sniffled. “Is it time?”

“Yes, time is of the essence,” the older man reached under the prince’s bed, pulling out a full traveling pack. “Did you follow my instructions?” The prince nodded. “Good boy,” replied Blake with a tender smile as he ran his hand through the boy‘s raven locks that reminded him so much of his brother-in-law, the now deceased king. “Sir Andrew is outside waiting for us. Are you ready, Tristan?”

“Are you certain we must leave now, uncle?” Tristan implored. “I will miss Father’s funeral. Are you sure of my uncle’s betrayal?”

“I’m sorry, son, but I am sure,” he replied as he looked into the eyes that reminded him so much of his late sister, Queen Lisbet. “You are in danger here. The sickness is already invading your body and I know Duke James is behind it. It is only because of my magic that you are not sicker. You forget that I was a pupil of the duke’s advisor, Mage-Adept Kipton. I know what I’m talking about, Tristan. I must get you out of the country and find help.”

“I trust you, Uncle Blake. I know you were loyal to me as you were to my father. I am ready.”

“There’s a brave lad,” smiled Blake as he began to open a pouch that had been hanging around his neck. “Now quickly change into your traveling clothes and put your regular clothes back on over them.” Blake busied himself, mixing some of the herbs from his bag.

Tristan moved behind his changing screen. “Are you sure King Jonathan will help us? We have shunned dealings with their kingdom for so long. What if he just sends me back here?”

“I don’t think he will. I have done research on Pennington and he has shown himself to be a kind and just man, he has tried to form an alliance between us, after all. It is we, who rebuffed the offers. I’m sure he will help you once he hears our story. He surely will not want a traitorous murderer ruling on his eastern border. Pennington may be in danger as well.”

“Yes, that makes sense, I suppose.” The prince stepped out from behind the screen. “I am ready.”

“Good.” Blake moved to the younger man and wrapped an affectionate arm around his shoulder. “Let us find Andrew so I can cast the spell and we can escape unnoticed.”

 

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Later that evening Duke James presided over an emergency meeting of the King’s Council to discuss the state funeral and setting up the regency. They impatiently awaited the arrival of the young crown prince who was over a candle mark late. Soon a servant came into the room.

“I thought we sent you to retrieve Prince Tristan,” Duke James snapped at the young man.

“He is not in the castle, my lord,” the servant replied with a slight tremor in his voice. “We have looked everywhere, but he is gone. His bodyguard, Sir Andrew, is also missing, as well as Queen Lisbet’s youngest brother, Mage-Master Blake DeVane.”

Duke James traded a quick look with his closest advisor, Mage-Adept Kipton of Thomaston, before turning back to the entire council. He smiled tenderly. “Well, I’m certain the young prince is simply still mourning his father and the other two are supporting him in seclusion somewhere. I’m sure they will turn up soon. Why don’t we all disband for the evening and meet again tomorrow? I have no doubt we will have Prince Tristan here by then.”

The others nodded and mumbled amongst themselves as they filed out of the room leaving James and Kipton alone. “Where are they?” James hissed to the other man when they were alone.

“I don’t know, Sire, but they cannot be far. Surely, someone would have seen the three of them leaving the castle.”

“Well, you better find out, Kipton. I thought Mage Blake was one of your most prized pupils. Why is he running around the castle and meddling in royal affairs?”

Mage Kipton averted his gaze. “He was my student, Highness, but we had a falling out and he has not come around for months. “As far as his meddling, he is the boy’s uncle, after all,” he replied a bit harshly.

“I know that, and I care not! I suggest you find him, and soon. I want that boy back under my watchful eye by tomorrow morning!”

“Yes, Highness,” replied Kipton. He was about to turn to leave when James’ icy voice stopped him.

“Just how powerful is this Blake, Kipton?”

“His powers are master level at best.”

“So he could perform a cloaking spell?”

Again Kipton refused to meet the Duke’s gaze. “Yes, my Lord.”

Duke James seethed silently for a moment letting Kipton stew in the glare. “Very well. I will expect a report tomorrow. You are dismissed.”

After the mage departed Duke James picked up one of the heavy pewter ale mugs and flung it across the room.

 

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King Jonathan sat in his private study with his own heir, Crown Prince Brian, namesake to the king’s youngest brother, Brian of Tremont. The two, along with a few other members of the royal household were going over the daily business that must be dealt with when one is a king. Both looked up when the door opened to reveal the king’s youngest son, Prince Charles, who was now serving as one of his father’s squires.

“Good morning, son,” smiled the king. “What brings you here?”

Charles sketched a small bow to his father. “A message just arrived for you, father. It is from Maynor.”

Everyone in the room looked up in surprise. “Maynor?” exclaimed Prince Brian. “We haven’t heard from them in years, have we, father?”

“No, we have not. Not really since they sent a polite congratulatory letter for my coronation as king.”

Charles handed the large leather envelope to his father. “Is it true they are magical there, father?” he asked with a bit of awe in his voice.

The king took the message from his son and shrugged a bit. “I have heard that there are magical folk there, son, but they are so insular and private, you probably know as much as I do.” He untied the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of parchment and an object wrapped in silk. He opened the letter first and read through it.

Brian noticed his father’s brow begin to furrow. “What is it, father?” he asked softly.

Jonathan did not reply for a few moments as he finished the letter. He finally looked up. “Well, it seems as if King Gabriel has died. They wanted us to be informed and they sent me a gift as a token of continuing peace between our countries.”

“That’s surprising,” replied Brian. “Wasn’t the king close to your age, father?”

“Actually a little younger, I think,” answered Jonathan. “I do know that his wife, Queen Lisbet died while giving birth to their only son, Tristan, who I believe is about fifteen now.”

“What is the age of majority, there?” asked the king’s seneschal.

“I believe it is the same as here. Tristan will not be allowed to fully rule until he is eighteen. Apparently the king’s younger brother, Duke James of Stockwell, will rule as regent until he comes of age. The truly troubling part is that the king apparently died of a strange illness that the healers did not recognize, and apparently the young prince is showing signs of being ill as well.”

“What does this all mean for us, Father?” Brian asked.

The king looked around the room and shrugged again. “Well, if things go as they have been, it does not mean much of anything. They’ve always shown a definite indifference toward their neighbors, though it has not necessarily been an unfriendly indifference. I really know nothing about this Duke of Stockwell or what kind of man he is.” He picked up the object wrapped in silk and uncovered it. He sucked in his breath as a beautiful brooch came into view. The stone was a large, blood red ruby set in gold.

“What is it father?” Charles asked curiously.

Jonathan held up the brooch and the others made appreciative noises. “It’s beautiful,” breathed Brian.

Jonathan ran a finger over the stone. “Yes it is,” he replied. The stone was mesmerizing and the King gazed at it for another moment, running an absent finger over its surface. Somehow it almost felt warm and comforting to touch.

Young Brian felt a small needling at the back of his neck. “Father?” he questioned the other man, who seemed to have forgotten anyone else was in the room.

Jonathan almost jumped. “Oh, yes, sorry.” He stood up, laying the brooch back on his desk. “Well, I think that is all for today. Henry, if you’ll stay, I will dictate a letter to my brother and let him know this curious turn of events.”

The others rose, filing out, while King Jonathan sat back down and absently stroked the ruby while he composed his letter to Brian.

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