The Prince of Bloodeaters is in love with a human priest. Living in a kingdom haunted by civil war & a plague called the Madness, two men will find their own way to fix their world. Viceroy Falco stands in their way, the Princeâs power hungry ex-lover.
I gripped the silver dagger, La Dame dâCroc tighter. Like droplets of blood across the blade, my eyes reflected my desire for its destruction. The ornate hiltâs laughing skulls and vines dug into my palm. Tilting the keen blade, a long-forgotten language made itself known. This is the tool for the rite of passage for the next generation of bloodeaters. It was my duty, the next in-line to be King of The Court to protect it with my life. I didnât care to inherit the wretched thing. Tonight, in my honor, a masquerade party whispered from the lower levels of the manor. The sense of jubilation resonating from the guests was a growing friction of heat against my soul.
I intend on ending the centuries-old tradition of bloodeating with my abdication from the throne. My fatherâs advisors would likely imprison me if they knew of my intentions. They would claim the pacifist daemons of The Court or even human ideals from The Tower were to blame. The truth is simpler. What little historical records survive amongst the royal library tell me the story of betrayal and ascension to a never-ending civil war. The House had turned on those it had promised to protect and devoured them for their power. Thus, the tradition of eating the blood of humans was born with the use of the magical blade in my hand and I wanted nothing to do with it.
âAre you not joining the celebration, Dante?â The voice belonged to Viceroy Falco, a sinister bastard who was also a revered war hero. âAh, I see they handed the La Dame dâCroc over to you. Mmm, The Fanged Lady, such a wonderful name for a blade.â
Glancing over my shoulder, his lips were tight and a scornful flare in his eyes told me what I already knew, âIâm sorry my father didnât hand it to you, Viceroy Falco.â
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