Adrian's Bodyguard (Vampires of Vadin Book 1) Read online

  “You mean you’ll text them?” Adrian asked, smirking as they turned down another corridor. “Baylin, you really need to bring your vocabulary up to date. I know you hate technology, but even you have to admit humans have come up with some very convenient tools.”

  Baylin may have had a slight aversion to technology, but he didn’t hate it. Everything lately seemed to change so fast—really, it was a giant hassle, if you asked him—and he tended to fall behind on learning the new lingo.

  “I meant through electronic mail. Technology aside, they are also destroying the very planet they live on. We’re lucky that what they do in the First Realm doesn’t affect our own. Also, I do not hate technology. I just feel it can complicate things,” Baylin groused.

  Adrian snorted in disbelief. “Complicate things? Baylin, my friend, first of all, no one says electronic mail. It’s called e-mail. Secondly, it would be faster if you texted or called. I got you a cell phone for a reason, so use it. Thirdly, it’s not surprising they’re on course to destroy themselves; they evolved quickly and are short lived. They haven’t had the time to learn from their mistakes as we have. Of course, some simply don’t care, as they won’t be alive to feel the effects of their mistakes. Quite selfish if you ask me. Anyway, as for contacting the Zaytari, if you feel you must then do so. I believe Sin recently moved his group’s holdings to the middle of his territory, so Dante Kozen’s group is now closer.”

  He nodded in confirmation. Baylin knew Adrian would rather not get the Zaytari involved. He usually tried to avoid taking them away from their work.

  All kings, or queens, had Zaytari groups scattered throughout their kingdoms, who were tasked to protect their given territories. Zaytari loosely translated to mean judgment, sentence, choice, or authority—it was a fitting name for what would be considered the police of the Second Realm. Except the punishments they wrought fit the crimes committed, and they were rarely, if ever, wrong. He was sure to the humans, their methods of punishment would be considered barbaric. However, it was necessary with how long they lived—not being able to die from natural causes like age meant immortals had plenty of time to repeat their crimes.

  When they had reached the stairway leading to the dungeon, he asked, “Off the top of your head, can you think of anyone who wants you dead?”

  At his question, Adrian burst out laughing. Pausing at the entrance of the stairway, he turned to look back at him. “Baylin, as long as there are kings, or queens for that matter, there will always be someone trying to kill them. There will always be people willing to murder to gain power and wealth. Many immortals would like to claim that we are more civilized than the humans in the First Realm, but they are only fooling themselves. We can be just as petty, greedy, and murderous. Numerous people want me dead, I’m sure, but most are smart enough or simply too weak to try. As for who is responsible for this attack, I’m not sure.”

  “I’m quite aware that murderous attacks can sometimes plague royalty, but your people are quite loyal to you. Quite a feat considering how hated your father and grandfather were.” Baylin had to force back a yawn. “And a stark contrast considering the beginning of your reign, where the possibility of you being worse made assassination attempts a daily occurrence.”

  “Baylin, I was there. You don’t have to remind me. I’m not senile just yet.”

  Baylin narrowed his eyes at the snarky comment. “I wasn’t finished. What I was going to say, before you rudely interrupted me, was that you proved them wrong. Under your rule their lives began to improve, and continued to do so. It is the reason the public has not pressured you into having an heir. Your people, frankly, do not want a new ruler. Whoever is behind this attack is foolish to think they will successfully take over if you die. They would most likely not live long enough to enjoy their victory.”

  He glared when Adrian began to laugh.

  “I was being serious!” Baylin snapped.

  His king grinned and playfully fanned himself. “Oh, Baylin, you’re such a flatterer. I didn’t know you liked me so much. Better not let Kellin find out. On a side note, would you stop mentioning heirs around me? You know I find the thought of having children terrifying. Besides, I’m too young to think of such things.”

  “Too young? Adrian, that has to be your worst excuse yet. You’re old enough to be my father, for fuck’s sake. In fact, you’re old enough to have given birth to almost everyone in the castle. I hate to burst your bubble, but you’re old as dirt.”

  Adrian huffed in outrage, though the act was ruined by the smile on his face. “Old? Old? How rude! I’ll have you know, I’m quite young for my age. By the way, what makes you think I’m going to be the one giving birth? Just because I prefer to bottom doesn’t mean I don’t top. I’ll have you know, I’ve done so quite often during my lifetime.”

  “Considering your age, I’m sure you have,” Baylin said, laughing as he started off down the stone stairs.

  Adrian followed him, pouting. “Hey! You can’t walk away mid-conversation.” His very “mature” king loved having the last word.

  Besides a few comments here or there, they descended the winding stone staircase together in silence. The length of it was truly ridiculous. Adrian often complained about the length to the council; however, they voted against filling in half and building a new dungeon—some nonsense about the importance of preserving history.

  Of course, Adrian could have done it anyway. As king, he didn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, as long as it dealt with his kingdom that was. However, he tried to only go over their heads if he thought it was absolutely necessary.

  Personally, Baylin didn’t understand the council’s need to preserve this bit of history. From what he knew, the only reason the staircase was so long was because one of Adrian’s more sadistic ancestors enjoyed watching his prisoners sweat. Apparently, the man thought a long descent into possible death would do that—not exactly a noble reason.

  Baylin's eyebrows rose when Adrian looked at him with a rather mischievous grin. “Maybe I’ll make the council run up and down the steps before each meeting. You know, to get their blood pumping. I hear it can help your brain function. I bet they would approve construction then.”

  “That would be positively evil of you, Adrian.” Baylin chuckled.

  They had almost reached the bottom when screams echoed from below. They froze for only a moment at the noise, then shot off down the stairs when they realized that it wasn’t screaming but shouts of panic. Stone walls and bespelled jail cells greeted them. The prison consisted of long hallways that curved both left and right of the stairway. They followed the yelling to the farthest cell to the right, and ended up running the whole way. The guards must have agreed with Adrian’s Ancestors, that long walks loosened tongues.

  When they burst in, the sight that greeted them was a clustered mess. Healers and guards surrounded their prisoner, and the familiar smell of death permeated the air.

  A confusing number of orders were being yelled, and unfortunately, none of them were being followed.

  “Enough!” Adrian bellowed, silencing the room. “What happened?”

  “W-we don’t know, S-sire. He just suddenly st-started gasping for air and then d-died,” one of the surrounding guards stuttered softly. A recruit—Baylin couldn’t remember his name. Being new would explain why he looked so terrified of the king.

  “Poison?” Baylin asked, though it was more of a statement. It was highly unlikely it was anything else. It couldn’t be magic—not that people hadn’t used magic to kill someone. However, as of yet, none had been able to do so with magic alone. There were no spells that caused instant death—well, none that wouldn’t kill the caster, too.

  Spells also caused a distinct shift in the air, not to mention a residue that could be felt and smelled, something that would have been noticed quickly.

  One of the healers stepped forward. “So far all signs indicate poison, but we still have to examine the body.”

  Someone
had betrayed them, and when he found out who, they would pay. “No one leaves this room until they are searched and questioned.”

  “Captain Baylin, one of the healers is missing,” the same guard from before informed him. He was a bit calmer this time.

  Turning to the group of healers, Baylin asked, “Who?” Most of the younger healers looked shocked at the thought of one of their own being responsible. However, Healer Asher—a phoenix shifter who had been there long before Adrian had ever taken the throne—was surveying the room.

  “Sage is missing.” Asher snarled, his face filled with murderous rage. Asher, despite being a healer, had a mean streak a mile wide and no qualms about killing—he often wondered why the man hadn’t become an enforcer for the Zaytari.

  “Then we will track Sage down. Hopefully, before he is killed by whoever hired him,” Baylin sighed.

  Adrian walked over and crouched next to the body, inspecting the dead man’s face. “I don’t know him. Not surprising, as I don’t tend to hang out with assassins.” Standing up, he said, “Asher, go ahead and examine the body further and report back. As for the rest of you, you will still be searched and questioned.”

  Baylin slowly approached the king. What he was about to suggest would be met with resistance, he was certain.

  Standing in front of Adrian, he tried to decide how to approach the subject—the man was already looking at him suspiciously. “Hear me out, because I want you to consider this seriously.”

  Adrian narrowed his eyes. “Consider what?”

  “I want you to consider getting a personal bodyguard. It would be safer for both you and the kingdom’s future.”

  “I do not need protection. I am not a child, and I refuse to have someone babysit me day and night.”

  “Adrian, please. I ask this of you as a friend.”

  “I said no!” he bellowed. Now glaring, Adrian abruptly turned and stormed off.

  She watched silently as a cloaked man entered an alleyway located at the edge of town. Also hidden in a cloak, she quickly followed him into the shadows of the alley.

  Tossing up a sound barrier, she snapped, “What the hell was that?”

  “I-I’m so-sorry. I thought the man was up for the job.”

  “If King Adrian was weak enough to be defeated by the idiot you hired, I would have just killed him myself. Don’t underestimate him!” She growled.

  “Y-yes, madam. I’ll do better next time. I promise.”

  Adrian sat on his throne, listening to the grievances of his citizens—though, to be honest, he found the fierce glare Baylin was throwing his way rather distracting.

  When the room cleared of citizens, Adrian removed his boots and socks and tossed them behind his throne. He hated wearing the blasted things.

  Baylin growled. “You need a bodyguard.”

  He huffed in frustration. “No, I don’t.”

  “You could have died last night.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “Adrian, there have been four attempts on your life in the last two months! The healer has been found dead, and the Zaytari have no leads on the person responsible. And why would they? Two of the men got away, and the other two died before we were able to search their minds. It’s time to stop being stubborn. This is your safety we’re talking about. It is time. I’m begging you.” Baylin paused in his rant and took a deep breath—it, however, did little to calm the man down. “No, no! I’m done begging. I’m ordering, get a damn bodyguard!”

  “Last time I checked, I’m still king. You know, the person who gives the orders? Yes, there have been four attempts on my life. However, they all failed, Baylin. Now why do you suppose that is, huh, Baylin?” he asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

  Between clenched teeth, Baylin growled at him. “Adrian…”

  “Oh, that’s right. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!” Adrian found the whole situation frustrating—really, what the hell was wrong with everyone. “Baylin, this is ridiculous!”

  Baylin snarled. “What is ridiculous is your refusal to see reason. You survived them, yes, but each new attack has been more brutal than the last. It’s only a matter of time before they succeed. Stop being a stubborn jackass!”

  Adrian absently tapped his nails on the arm of his chair as he watched Baylin pace and rant on. Over the last two months, the man had taken every opportunity to lecture Adrian on safety. It had gotten to the point that he had found himself hiding in his own damn castle—not to mention peeking around every corner like a thief—just to avoid the man.

  Maybe if he pretended Baylin wasn’t there, he’d go away. A bit childish, yes, but it could work. Anything was better than getting a babysitter. The assassination attempts had interfered with his life enough. Adrian refused to allow them to completely take over—and that’s what would happen if he got a bodyguard.

  He sighed. Maybe Baylin was right. Maybe he was being just a tad bit stubborn. But he couldn’t help it. The idea of having a bodyguard again reminded him too much of when his father was alive. Assassination attempts were a daily occurrence during his childhood. For many, the hatred the people had toward his father carried over to him, as well—not that he could blame them. Who would trust the son of a man who murdered them without cause? When he’d taken the throne, he had been forced to deal with the consequences of his father’s actions—well, until he proved to the citizens that he was different. However, it seemed to some that nothing he did would ever be enough.

  Adrian was jerked out of his brooding when the throne-room doors were thrown open by his Public and Diplomatic Relations Coordinator, James. Believe it or not, his last name was Jame. James Jame—the man was rather sensitive about it, so he tried to forget the vampire even had a last name by never using it when introducing him.

  James was panting hard as he ran across the white marble floors up the three steps towards the throne and promptly tripped, landing on his face. He did have to give the man props when he quickly righted himself and turned his graceless face-plant into a bow.

  It was par for the course for James. The man was easily agitated and often overreacted—he’d have died of a heart attack by now if he had been human. Adrian honestly didn’t need a Relations Coordinator. However, the man had just seemed so desperate and pitiful at the time, that he had hired him.

  It had been a mistake on his part—hiring someone he had barely known had been a bit foolish—and he’d found out soon after that the vampire thought every insignificant problem was a catastrophe. James tended to stress Adrian out—hell, the man thought the wrong curtain color would cause a diplomatic crisis.

  Adrian, of course, didn’t have the heart to fire him. He would probably really have a heart attack then—not that it was physically possible for immortals to do so. But he was sure the man would find a way. He usually just tried to avoid him at all cost. However, today he didn’t mind, as his entrance had shut Baylin up.

  While James always looked flustered, he looked particularly so today. If he were to judge by how hard the vampire was breathing, he had run from some distance away—or more likely, his panic had caused him to hyperventilate.

  Eyebrows raised, he asked, “Is something wrong, James?”

  “They…they’re…the…Arcadia…here…” James incoherently stuttered as he struggled to breathe.

  “James, take a deep breath and try again,” Adrian instructed patiently.

  It took a few deep breaths before James managed to get out what had him in a panic. “King Tristan Knight Ash and King Aiden Day Ash of Arcadia are here! Without notice! Nothing is prepared, it’s a disaster! What will we do? What will they think? What will—”

  Adrian’s eyes widened when, with each word, the volume of James’s voice rose. It got to a point where he was forced to scream to be heard over the man’s panic. “Enough! Calm yourself, James. Kings Tristan and Aiden are dear friends of mine. While I’m surprised the twins would visit without messaging me, as they are obsessed with texting, they are always
welcome. The two also couldn’t care less about people fussing over them.”

  “But—” James began.

  Adrian cut him off. “Where are they now?”

  James stuttered out, “A-at the fr-front gates. I h-had their vehicles st-stored next to y-yours.” Motor vehicles, another useful invention from the First Realm—of course, they used magic to power them instead of gasoline. It was a shame that humans had yet to move away from gas. But then again, there was little magic in the First Realm.

  “Very well, I guess I should go greet them, wouldn’t want to keep them waiting,” Adrian said with a laugh as he surged from his seat and across the large platform that housed his throne, jumping off the small three steps. He was through the throne room doors, running toward the front gates before Baylin could stop him.

  He heard Baylin yell behind him. “Dammit! Adrian, get back here! It’s not safe!” Adrian hadn’t seen the twins in ages. His friendship with the twins had begun about three thousand years ago. He had bonded with them easily, as their father had been as horrendous as his own. Adrian had actually helped them overthrow their father when he’d confirmed that Arcadia would be better for it.

  While in the years they’d known each other, he and the twins had shared many fun nights of carnal pleasure, they had recently selected their third. The Arcadian people believed it was better to have two kings than one—a tradition shifters shared, as well. The monarchs also had to be twins. Lucky for them, they had found a way to always produce the twins they wanted.

  Usually, when the new kings took the throne—around the age of three thousand or so—they selected their third and had their heirs. However, Tristan and Aiden had waited, as they had only been one hundred when they had taken the throne.

  From what he had been told, Tristan and Aiden’s third was a young blood elf. The young man was also still going through secondary education, which for immortals was sort of like a second high school. The students usually attended from ages eighteen to twenty-five before attending university. Unlike the humans in the First Realm, whose lives were short, they didn’t have to worry about aging. What they were concerned with, however, was the maturity level of the children before they released them into society. Due to the young elf still attending school, the twins decided to hold off on heirs for a few more years, much to the chagrin of their council.