Page 16 of Henrikk’s Masquerade

Melody was near, and Henrikk wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her snug against him. “Give him time, my dear,” he said to her warmly, watching Asher’s reaction from the corner of his eye.

Asher’s hands shook. For a moment, Henrikk thought he would draw a weapon and attack. But then, his face crumpled, and he turned away.

Henrikk felt a twinge of guilt. An odd feeling, but try as he might, he could not push the feeling away. He masked his discomfort as best as he could and addressed Melody in a commanding tone. “Leave us.”

She turned wide eyes on him, her mouth agape. “Y-your Majesty?”

“Leave. Go, acquaint yourself with the nobles. Dance the night away. Afterwards, a servant will direct you to your bedchambers.”

But not to mine.

Melody flushed scarlet red with embarrassment at being dismissed so abruptly. She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. Curtsying deeply, she bid them a formal goodnight, hopefulness still playing across her features as she cast both of them a final doe-eyed look.

Henrikk waited until the rustle of her skirts had faded before speaking. “Well, she certainly hasn’t changed.”

Asher had his back to him, his shoulders shaking as he stared at the curtains. He spun around, his stony face cracking. “Henrikk… What. The. Fuck?!”

Henrikk had crossed a line. They both knew it. But the thought of apologising to Asher was…cringey. So instead, he said simply, “I am in need of a wife. I think she will do.”

Asher’s eyes widened. “No. Marry anyone else. Not her.”

The temptation to goad Asher was impossible to resist. He was eager to see this other side of him, the one born from darkness and rage.

All he needs is a little push.

So, he pushed.

Leaning against the bannister, he adjusted his cufflinks and asked, “Do I have your blessing to bed her this evening? Or would you rather I wait until the wedding night?”

To his continued disappointment, Asher merely gaped at him, much like Melody had earlier. A family trait, evidently, although the expression was far more attractive on Asher. It reminded him of how Asher had looked with his lips wrapped around his cock.

All thoughts of Melody vanished as he admired Asher’s luscious, trembling lips.

He’s heartbeats away from snapping…

“We would be brothers, if I married her,” Henrikk pointed out. “Perhaps I would keep you here in Wintermaw.” Asher turned green, but still did not break, so Henrikk tried a different tack. “You haven’t replied to any of her letters.”

Asher’s eyes widened. “How do you know of those?”

“Your writing desk. You requested it, and I was curious why. I assumed you wanted to improvise a weapon. Imagine my surprise when I found her letters within a secret compartment. So many of them, years and years worth. She clearly cares about you a great deal.”

“Which is more than can be said for you,” Asher snarled, but still, he did not move, his eyes livid and crackling with heat.

Break for me, general. Break, or bend, but I shall have you on your knees either way.

“You shouldn’t have invited her here,” Asher finally said.

“I can send her away again,” Henrikk suggested slyly. “After sampling her, of course. She’s travelled an awful long way to experience royalty.”

Asher took an agitated step forward, then a step back. He turned away, his lungs working to draw air, before rounding on Henrikk once more. “Do you truly intend to marry her?”

Henrikk took pity on him. “Perhaps not. She would make a terrible queen.”

Asher rubbed his face. “You sought to antagonise me. That’s the only reason you brought her here.”

Henrikk didn’t deny it.

“She will be devastated when she realises that she won’t be queen,” Asher said. If he wanted an apology, he should have known better.