“No, I came here to make sure you were still alive. And to tell you Lord Vasil will be arriving any moment. I’ve been tasked with making sure you are presentable.”
“Are you sure he wouldn’t prefer a corpse?” I asked, feeling quite maudlin. Perhaps he’d only agreed to this betrothal in order to bleed me dry.
“Cedrych,” my brother admonished, conveying his extreme displeasure–at my impertinence or my general failure as a royal, it was hard to say. The fact that the elvish lord had been broughtin to “tame” me was the ultimate humiliation, though when I was alone with my thoughts at night, I could admit that the prospect both inflamed and intrigued me. I’d nursed something of a boyhood crush toward the lord when we were younger, one I’d hoped had faded.
No such luck.
I buckled my sword belt around my waist and checked the condition of my steel. Satisfied, I rubbed my thumb over the sword’s pommel where there was an engraving of a gryphon, my father’s crest. The sword was my only inheritance from my father, since my mother was stingy with his lands too. Goddess forbid I have anything of my own.
“Soon you will be rid of me, Godfried,” I said with a bit of melancholy, “and then you can all hold a lavish banquet in my honor.”
“That will not happen, Cedrych,” he replied as if it pained him to imagine it.
“Just ship me off to the elvish territories and let me be a chew toy for that heartless bastard. Mother can redecorate my rooms, make it her hobby room, if she likes.”
“Mother will do no such thing. You know that.”
“Do I?” My station in life was never as certain as his or Edwyn’s.
“Mother only has your best interest at heart,” Godfried said but I hardly believed him, for as far as I could tell, my mother only cared about her kingdom. Everyone, including her sons, came second to her duty to the throne, and our value rose and fell according to how she might use us to further her own ambitions.
At my surly glare, Godfried straightened his broad shoulders and said, “Chin up, little brother. Perhaps this will be the beginning of something wondrous.”
A vision of the cold lord crept into my mind: that commanding tone, his flinty glare, and a will as steadfast as the vanadium rod he so favored.
Wondrous, my ass.
“Letme make sure I’ve heard this correctly,” Lord Vasil lectured a little while later, pacing the crystal inlaid floor of my royal chambers while I slouched in an armchair with my arms crossed and head lowered. Was I ashamed? A little. I’d bathed, combed my hair, and changed my clothing, but little could be done to hide the shiner on my eye or my surly attitude. My posture would mortify my mother, but for once, the woman had left me alone, probably so that my betrothed could have the pleasure of dressing me down himself.
As for the lord, he was splendidly attired in a suit of elvish blue that highlighted his broad shoulders, trim waist, and long legs. I was loath to admit, even to myself, that the color set off his coppery skin handsomely. Not all vampyre were pale, though he did have an aversion to sunlight. The angles of the lord’s face were severe, reminding me of the Cysgodian cliffs that surrounded his fortress, with cheekbones as sharp as his wit. His long, dark hair was brushed back from his face and secured in its trademark knot at the nape of his neck. What might it take for the imperious lord to let his hair down? Across his jaw was a light scrape of a beard, the sort that would burn if he were to rub against my skin.
Do not think about where he might put his face!
Had the lord made an effort for me? Probably not. I’d never known his appearance to be anything less than impeccable.The elvish were known for their excellence in all things. Just one more way he wished to prove he was better than me. Agentleman.The vanadium rod was ever present, and he gripped it now with the command of a king as he strode before me. He was king of the elvish in every aspect except for the title. Perhaps he intended to beat me into submission with that rod. Alarmingly, I had mixed feelings about that too.
“You went to the Dragonback Mountains and instigated a fight with a member of the Wolfsbane shifter clan, not once but twice?” Lord Vasil said, pausing to examine me. His dark eyes shone like obsidian, irises glowing as if ringed with fire. His mother had been a full-blooded vampyre, but I had to wonder if there might also be a bit of demon somewhere down the line.
“That was a weeks ago,” I said in an attempt to diminish its significance. The worst thing by far about being a prince was that everyone from the daily scrolls to the chambermaids knew of my affairs. Word always got back to my mother, sooner or later. Clearly that web of gossip now extended to include my “betrothed” as well. “It’s old news,” I added with feigned nonchalance.
His gaze sharpened and I found myself sweating under his intense scrutiny. He was grim-faced but with no less of the control I’d seen him display during our last encounter–holding back, though I wish he wouldn’t.Give it to me, I would tell him,give me all of your wrath and your fury. I could take it. I reached up to rub the mark he’d made on my skin, betraying myself, then stuffed my hand back under my damp armpit.
“Why, Cedrych?” he demanded, my name laced with something stern and authoritative that spoke to me on an elemental level.
“The minotaur is fucking my ex.” I neglected to mention that Skylar Larkspur, said ex, had also held me at knifepoint after the minotaur head-butted me in the sternum. Messy business allaround. I rubbed one of my bruised ribs–still tender–but at least it no longer ached every time I breathed deeply. My pride had suffered in that fight more than my body. I’d made my guards swear an oath not to breathe a word of Skylar’s threat on my life, for I didn’t want the Guild or my mother to get involved. Even though Skylar had run off without a word and was now fucking a minotaur in some no-name town in the Dragonback Mountains, I didn’tactuallywish to harm him. No more than I already had.
Besides that, the minotaur had made it pretty clear that I wouldn’t be walking away from a third encounter.
“I do not care who your ex is fucking,” the lord said, smoothing out the lapel of his suit jacket. The fact that he’d said the word “fucking” seemed wildly inappropriate coming from him, and yet… “The instructions I gave you were very clear,” he continued. “Wrap up your personal affairs, not instigate trouble with the shifter realm.”
“They’re not even a realm in the traditional sense, more like an unincorporated territory.” Geo-political affairs had been one of my favorite academic subjects, along with history and advanced battle strategies. Too bad there were no wars to fight nowadays. I had to content myself with moving markers across a map.
“Do you realize what could have happened?” Vasil said, probably worried about his trade agreement with my mother. If there was no prince to tame, there’d be no duty-free passage to the Northern Realm either.
“What?” I said, playing dumb.
“In addition to breaking the Treaty of the Realms, you could have been injured or worse.” He strode over to me then, and in one fluid movement, grabbed hold of my chin and tilted my face toward the light to get a better look at my black eye. The confidence with which he touched me–as if it was his right–did strange things to my head. And my cock.
“What happened here?” he demanded.
