Prince of the Blood Read Online Free PDF

narrowed as he studied the approaching soldier. “Let me guess: he’s the champion of all men over two hundred pounds.”
    “Yes,” said Baron James, with an evil smile.
    Instantly, Borric’s field of vision was filled by an oncoming fist. He quickly tried to move away from it, but abruptly discovered another had found the side of his head. Then he was considering who painted the frescos onthe ceiling of the room his father had converted to a gymnasium. He really should ask someone.
    Shaking his head as he slowly sat up, he could hear James saying, “Your father wanted us to impress upon you the importance of what you face tomorrow.”
    “And what might that be?” said Borric, allowing Sergeant Palmer to help him to his feet. But the Sergeant didn’t release Borric’s right hand. Instead, he held it tightly as he brought his own right hand hard up into Borric’s stomach. Lieutenant William visibly winced as Borric’s breath exploded from his lungs and his eyes crossed as he sank to the floor once more. Erland began warily moving away from the other fist-boxer, who now was stalking him across the floor.
    “If it has escaped your notice, your uncle the King has sired only daughters since young Prince Randolph died.”
    Borric waved off the offered hand of Sergeant Palmer and said, “Thanks. I’ll get up by myself.” As he came to one knee, he said, “I hardly dwell on the fact of our cousin’s death, but I’m aware of it.” Then as he started to stand, he drove a vicious blow into Sergeant Palmer’s stomach.
    The older, harder fighter stood rock steady, forced himself to take a breath, then smiled in appreciation and said, “That was a good one. Highness.”
    Borric’s eyes rolled heavenward. “Thank you.” Then another fist filled his vision and once more he considered the wonderful craftsmanship displayed upon the ceiling. Why hadn’t he ever taken the opportunity to notice it before?
    Erland attempted to keep distance between himself and the approaching Sergeant Obregon. Suddenly, the young man was not backing up, but striking out with a flurry of blows. The Sergeant, rather than back away, raised his arms before his face and let the younger man strike his arms and shoulders. “Our uncle’s lack of an heiris a fact not unknown to us, Uncle Jimmy,” observed Erland as his own arms began to tire while he futilely pounded upon the muscular Sergeant. Abruptly, the Sergeant stepped inside Erland’s reach and drove another blow into the youngster’s side. Erland’s face drained of color and his eyes crossed, then unfocused.
    Seeing the reaction, Sergeant Obregon said, “Pardon, Highness, I’d meant to strike the uninjured side.”
    Erland’s voice was a bare whisper as he gasped, “How very kind of you.”
    Borric shook his head to clear his thoughts, then quickly rolled backward and came to his feet, ready to fight. “So then, there’s a point to this iteration on our family’s lack of a royal Prince?”
    “Actually, so,” agreed James. “With no male issue, the Prince of Krondor still is Heir.”
    Erland’s voice returned in a strangled gasp. “The Prince of Krondor is always Royal Heir.”
    “And your father is Prince of Krondor,” interjected Locklear.
    With a clever feint with his left, Borric drove his right into the jaw of Sergeant Palmer and momentarily staggered the older man. Another blow to the body and the boxer was retreating. Borric grew confident and stepped in to deliver a finishing blow, and abruptly the world turned upside down.
    Borric’s vision turned yellow then red for a long while, and while he hung in space, the floor came up to strike him in the back of the head. Then blackness crowded in at the edge of his vision and he saw a ring of faces looking down a deep well at him. They seemed friendly faces, and he thought he might know who they were, but he didn’t feel any need to worry on it, as he was so very comfortable sinking into the cool dark of the well.