Prince of the Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

Staring past the faces, he absently wondered if any of them might know who the artists of the frescos above might be.
    As his eyes rolled up into his head, William upended a small bucket over Borric’s face. The elder twin came back to consciousness sputtering and spitting water.
    Baron James was upon one knee and helped the Prince sit upright. “Are you still with me?”
    Borric shook his head and his eyes focused. “I think so,” he managed to gasp.
    “Good. For if your father is still Heir to the throne, you royal infant”—he slapped Borric on the back of the head to emphasize what came next—“then you are still Heir Presumptive.”
    Borric turned to study James’s face. The point of James’s message was still lost on the young Prince. “So?”
    “So, ninny, as it is unlikely that our good King, your uncle, will father any sons at this stage in his life—given the Queen’s age—should Arutha survive him, he will then be King.” Reaching out to aid Borric to his feet, he added, “And as the Goddess of Luck would have it”—he slapped Borric playfully on the side of the face—“you almost certainly will outlive your father, which means that someday after, you shall be King.”
    “May heaven forfend,” interjected Locklear.
    Borric looked around the room. The two Sergeants had stepped back, as the pretense of a boxing lesson was forgotten. “King?”
    “Yes, you stone-crowned dolt,” said Locklear. “If we’re still alive, we’ll have to kneel before you and pretend you know what you’re doing.”
    “So,” continued James, “your father has decided that it’s time for you to stop behaving like the spoiled child of a rich cattle merchant and start acting like a future King of Isles.”
    Erland came to stand beside his brother, leaning upon him slightly. “So why not just simply”—he winced as he moved the wrong way, straining his reinjured side—“tell us what’s going on?”
    James said, “I convinced your father the lesson needed to be … emphasized.” He studied the two Princes. “You’ve been educated, taught by the best instructors your father could employ. You speak … what … six, seven languages? You can do sums and calculate, like engineers at a siege. You can discourse on the teachings of the ancients. You have music and painting skills, and you know the etiquette of the court. You are skilled swordsmen and”—he glanced at the two boxers—“somewhat gifted students of fisticuffs.” He stepped away. “But in nineteen years since your birth you’ve never given a single sign that you’re anything other than spoiled, self-indulgent children. Not Princes of the realm!” His voice rose and his tone turned angry. “And when we’re done with you, you’ll be acting the role of a Crown Prince instead of a spoiled child.”
    Borric stood crestfallen. “Spoiled child?”
    Erland grinned at his brother’s discomfort. “Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it? Borric shall have to mend his ways, and you and Father will be happy—”
    James’s wicked grin turned on Erland. “As will you, my lovely! For if this child of a foolish and capricious nature should go and get his throat cut by the angry husband of a Keshian court lady, it’s you who’ll wear the conDoin crown in Rillanon someday. And should he not, you’ll still be Heir until the unlikely event of your brother becoming a father. Even then, you’ll most likely end up a Duke somewhere.” Letting his voice drop a bit, he said, “So both of you begin to learn your office.”
    Borric said, “Yes, I know. First thing tomorrow. Come, let’s get some rest—” Borric looked down and discovered a restraining hand upon his chest.
    “Not so fast,” said James. “You haven’t finished your lesson.”
    “Ah, Uncle Jimmy—” began Erland.
    “You’ve made your point—” said Borric, anger in his voice.
    “I think not,” answered the Baron. “You’re still a pair of rude sods.” Turning to the