My Cursed Alpha Prince

PROLOGUE

*

A storm was brewing from the east.

It had been growing steadily all through the day, but it wasn’t until the sun set and the storm clouds turned into golden-grey clumps drifting across the dark sky that king Raemon saw it. He stood upon the tallest tower, his heart filled with a bitter kind of anger that was becoming a constant part of him. His eyes, bright red and glowing as he watched the forks of lightning illuminate the sky, could see the entire plains which surrounded his palace, a barren wasteland without even a single trace of life.

His heart, cold and lifeless after almost a hundred years since his death, was saddled by a grief which had plagued him for a fortnight now. Twice, he had considered driving a stake through his own heart just to get rid of the pain. Tonight made it three times so far.

Far beneath him, in a dark room which had once held so much joy, he could hear the cries of his daughter echoing through the palace. Every shrill cry which left her lips was like a slap to his face, a constant reminder of his incompetence as a father. What sort of man would give birth to a child so sickly? What sort of man would be powerless as he watched his child dying slowly?

“Your Grace,” a quiet voice said behind him, and he did not even need to turn around to know that it was Mafesta, the high priestess of the Silent Widows.

“Will she live?” he asked, closing his eyes and trying to block out her cries.

“She is very weak, your Grace,” Mafesta said, leaning heavily on her cane. She was a blind old woman, with cataracts over her eyes and dried, crusty lips. Half of her teeth were gone, and the other half were rotten or chipped. She was no sight to behold, but king Raemon was desperate. And desperate men were often known to go above and beyond.

“I did not ask you what state she’s in,” he growled lowly. “Tell me if she will live?”

“I’m afraid it is never that easy, your Grace,” she said. “The girl may yet live, but that will depend on whether or not you are able to do what needs to be done.”

“Anything,” he said. “I will do anything to keep her alive. Just tell me what needs to be done.”

Mafesta grinned, a very old and toothless grin.

“There is power in a royal blood, your Grace,” she said. “A power which cannot be defined. It is capable of creation and destruction, and it may yet save your daughter.”

King Raemon turned around immediately.

“Well why didn’t you say that earlier?” he snapped. “You can have my blood. I’ll slay her mother if I have to. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“It cannot be yours,” Mafesta said. “Neither can it be her mother’s, because that same blood flows through her veins even now, and it is the reason she is dying. It needs to be the blood of another royal, and preferably not a vampire such as yourself.”

“So what does it have to be?”

“A human’s blood,” she said. “Or, if you truly want her to be powerful, a werewolves.”

King Raemon froze at the word. Humans, he could understand. Getting the blood of a human from a royal bloodline would be difficult, but not impossible. It would require a fair bit of planning, since there were so many spells woven into their palaces to keep vampires out.

But the blood of a werewolf, especially one from a royal bloodline, that would probably be the hardest thing he would ever have to do. But it was for his daughter, and he had to find a way to do it.

“Ask, your Grace,” Mafesta said. “I sense the questions stirring within you. Three questions, and I will answer them truthfully.”

King Raemon turned to face her, his golden crown illuminated by a sudden fork of lightning.

“Can the blood of a royal werewolf be used for other things?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, inclining her head towards him. “With a single vial, you could raise a thousand vampires to join your army. Give me the person alive, and Dalmatia will become the greatest kingdom this world has ever seen.

“The queen of Xania just gave birth to a prince last month,” he said. “Will he prove to be a problem to me?”

Mafesta struck her cane on the ground, and sparks of lightning flew from the end of it. She muttered in a strange tongue which he did not understand, and he watched as her eyes rolled over in their sockets.

“The boy shall be your doom,” she said. “Prince Caspian of Xania will grow up to lead an army far greater than any this world has ever seen. Should you face him in battle, you will fall. And his might shall sweep over Dalmatia and wipe out everyone and everything.”

It was hard to think that a baby who was probably lying in his crib now could grow up to become a nuisance to him. King Raemon didn’t want to think about that now, or the fact that the person who could kill him was alive right now, healthy and breathing behind great walls and an army which struck fear into his heart.

So if he could not fight the boy….

“Could I form an alliance between our families then?” he asked. “Can I marry off my daughter to Caspian, and unite our kingdoms so that peace may reign?”

The clouds suddenly burst, and a mighty roar swept over the palace as the rain poured down on them. It was almost as if the sky had been holding back its tears for a decade, and was finally releasing it all.

“Prince Caspian will never wed your daughter,” Mafesta said, her voice carrying over the rain. “His bride has already been chosen by the gods, a human girl who will come into this world on his fifth birthday. She shall have golden hair like sunlight, and blue eyes which shall make the skies weep in jealousy. She will be the fairest of them all, and she shall rule over the lands and sit beside her husband. Together, they shall bring in a dynasty which this world will tremble to behold. Would you like to know her name?”

He was reluctant to. Rage clutched at his dead heart, and on that day, nearly five years before she was even born, he swore to take the girl’s life before she even grew up to meet Caspian.

“Tell me the name,” he said.

“Diana,” Mafesta replied, and a flash of lightning came immediately, followed by a thunderous clap.

Destiny came into play that night, and a thousand miles away, lying in a golden crib beside his mother, Prince Caspian slept on peacefully, unaware of the path his life was going to take very soon.

*