Page 2 of Given

“Helen, Your Highness. Helen Gelfort. I come from a fishing community on the coast of the Southern Sea.”

“Thank you, Helen.” He held up the parchment. “For this, and for your service to the Crown.”

“Of course, my prince.” She curtsied and left.

He read the parchment twice more. The information within it wasn’t new to him. The brothers of the Tower of the Mind had predicted Princess Given of Sithistra’s birth one year before it occurred. That made her a Child of Prophecy. It was a somewhat rare designation. No one—not even the Brotherhood—knew why certain members among their ranks could predict births. Likewise, no one could say whether being a Child of Prophecy conveyed any special significance on a person.

Certainly, history told of some Children of Prophecy who had done noble or important things. Yet there were also those who had committed crimes, waged wars, or participated in atrocities.

He looked at the baby. “Which way will you go, I wonder?” he murmured, amusement stirring in his mind. The princess was unlikely to know anything beyond a life of dresses, dancing, and etiquette. The only war she need worry about was one of slights and petty injustices waged by the First Queen.

He’d shield his sister as much as he could. Even Amantha bowed her head to the king’s heir.

The babe slept on, oblivious to her mother’s death and the weighty circumstances of her birth.

He examined the bottom edge of the parchment. It was uneven, as if someone had torn a strip away. It wasn’t unusual for the scribes of the Towers of the Mir to conserve and reuse parchment, but he was surprised they sent an imperfect scroll to his father. Most people took more care when presenting gifts to the king.

But the realm was in mourning—at least officially. And anyway, King Baylen was in no state to see the prophecy. He’d barely visited the princess since she was born, and not at all when it became clear the Queen Consort wasn’t going to survive.

Rolund set the prophecy aside and stood over the cradle. He had little interest in babies, but he understood why the ladies of the Consort’s court gushed over this one. Half-vampire or not, she was a beautiful child. She was also a quiet little creature—as if she knew it was best to go unnoticed in a kingdom of humans.

He’d protect her. He hadn’t promised any such thing to the Consort, but he’d taken that vow in his heart. He just hadn’t realized it until now.

He drew a finger down one plump cheek. “May you fare better in Sithistra than your mother did.”

The babe stirred, then blinked open two big, blue eyes.

Rolund smiled. A second later, pain shot through his finger. With a muttered curse, he yanked his hand from the cradle.

Blood dripped down his finger and onto the baby’s linens. More blood stained her lips, which were now pursed as she began to fuss. Tiny fists flailed, and she let out a cry, revealing the tips of dainty fangs.

She’d bitten him.

He examined his finger. Sure enough, two small puncture marks were already scabbing over.

The princess’s cries grew louder.

Rolund stepped back from the cradle. He tucked the parchment inside his jacket and left the room. He was the Crown Prince of Sithistra, not a nursemaid.

Time for Helen Gelfort of the Southern Sea to begin her duties.

Chapter One

GIVEN

Excitement hummed in my veins as I hurried through the castle, my heavy skirts swishing around my ankles. I was due to meet my brother in the courtyard, but I had to make one stop first. I could only hope it wouldn’t take too long. The king abhorred tardiness—a trait he inherited from his lady mother.

“May the Lord rest her soul,” I said under my breath. According to the Brotherhood, Queen Amantha was almost certainly well-rested indeed. Few in Sithistra had been so devout.

Although, the current first queen was doing her best to fill my next-mother’s shoes. Voices drifted from Elissa’s chambers as I approached. The door stood open. The sound of a rattling, watery cough drifted into the hallway.

Worry stopped me in my tracks. I knew that sound well. Everyone in the castle did.

“Are you all right, Princess?” a man’s voice said.

The cough subsided, and then a child said, “Yes, Brother Tomas. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Your Highness. Now, where were we?”

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