Page 1 of Bred By the Emperor

Chapter 1

Malakai

“Sir, there is a situation at the border.” My councilor is not a cowardly man, yet he cringes visibly while delivering this unwelcome news.

“The rebels are at it again?” I scrub my face and sigh. Ten years ago during the Great War that tore apart the continent, rebels killed my wife. I hate those motherfuckers and I have been trying to put down their movement ever since. “Where is my son?”

“Which one?”

“Either. The eldest.”

“Prince Kenton is on his way to the front now.”

Reassuring. An attempt at leadership was made. We’ll see if he can pull it off. “Where is my youngest son?”

“Prince Zarek is with his mistress. We sent word to him that he must return to the castle.”

I blow out a sigh. Holding together a fractious group of countries that were recently at war with one another requires an iron fist and the diplomacy skills of a saint.

I’m not a fucking saint. Far from it.

No emperor is.

I won a fucking war. I did it for my country, to save the kingdom of Enovar from subjugation and conquest by Gremalia. Along the way, I saved three other countries by joining forces and leading their armies to victory. I did things that no man should have to live with—and I lost people I loved.

Which is why it pisses me the fuck off that my own sons are such feckless fools half the time. Zarek has his mother’s good looks and my libido. Somehow he escaped inheriting either of our discipline. At nineteen, that boy takes up with actresses and models. Basically any woman with a claim to fame and beauty. Sometimes the fame is optional.

As for Kenton, he at least tries to lead. He’s hotheaded and reckless. I’m sure he means well by heading to the border, but I am equally sure that he will make matters worse.

I need to get these boys married and out of my hair. Keep them busy with ruling instead of fucking and fighting. Teach them some discipline. A wife and children would keep them occupied. Give them an outlet.

Granted, it’s not the medieval era anymore. I can’t force either of my sons to do anything. But I’ve faced worse problems. I mull over my options during the helicopter flight to the border. Small planes don’t make sense in this mountainous region, and large planes don’t have the maneuverability. Studying a map of my empire on my secure phone, I trace the lines marking the borders between different countries. Enovar and Gremalia abut one another, which is where most of the rebellion boils up like a returning canker sore, year after year. But sandwiched in between them is a tiny country, Kellimar, a determinedly neutral fingertip of land ruled by an old man and his young granddaughter.

I tap my lip, trying to remember the princess’ name. Technically, she is my subject. Her parents were killed during the Great War, like many people were, and her elderly grandfather has been keeping the Kellimar throne warm until the day when she marries and he can finally abdicate. That was the bargain her parents struck to survive the Great War. The royal family retains local control while I protect their kingdom as part of the Enovar Empire. A small price to pay for sovereignty, if you ask me.

Princess Lilivere. That’s it. She’s what, 19 or 20? Around my sons’ ages. I vaguely remember her coming of age ceremony on her eighteenth birthday. Pictures were all over the internet. I sent a gift but didn’t bother to attend the celebration. Maybe I should have, but I have bigger problems than fawning over a spoiled young princess. That’s Zarek’s job.

A spark lights up in my brain. She could be the perfect solution to my own problem children—one of them, at least.

When we land at the front, I find my firstborn son, Kenton, in pristine military dress. I want to smack him upside the head. Nobody respects a military leader without blood on his uniform.

“Why aren’t you out there getting your hands dirty?” I snap at him. His mouth flattens. His green eyes spark with anger, but he knows better than to talk back to me.

“I am leading the men,” he says. “You always want me to show more discipline, Dad. If I had run into battle, you would have chastised me for risking my life. Pick one.”

Fucking brat. He’s right. I can be a hard leader. I hold my sons to high standards because I need them to hold together this empire when I’m gone. I didn’t fight a war just to watch it fall apart when Kenton inherits.

“When we get back, I have something to discuss with you. You’re getting married.”

Kenton blanches. “To whom? I’m dating someone, Dad.”

“Bullshit. I haven’t seen you in the papers with any girls. You’ve been sticking your dick in anything that moves since you turned sixteen.” Both of my sons are handsome. They have no problem pulling women. Kenton is more rugged than Zarek is, favoring me in his dark hair and green eyes. Zarek’s features are softer and frankly prettier. He’s almost girlish in his attractiveness. I hate that it bothers me, but it does. Doesn’t stop him from getting laid, which I wish he’d be a little more discreet about. We don’t need any royal bastards running around.

As for me, I’m not careless with the way I sleep around—because I don’t. At all. I would never admit this to a living soul, but I have been celibate since my wife died. Despite me being closed-mouthed about it, there’s endless tabloid speculation about who Malakai the Monster, Emperor of Enovar, is supposedly dating. The answer is no one.

I met Sariah as a lowly general in her father’s army. The princess of Enovar risked a great deal to be with me, and I was devastated when I lost her. With the war over, I’ve thrown myself into ruling and raising our sons.

“Just because you sleep around, doesn’t mean I do, Dad,” Kenton grits out. I flinch. Fucking tabloids spreading lies. Even my son believes them, which is not a credit to his intellect, frankly. “We’re off topic. Can we discuss how we’re going to catch the perpetrators of this latest attack? The rebels are getting sneakier.”