Page 7

I inhale sharply. “Jesus, be careful! That’s not the kind of choking I had in mind for tonight.”

Ignoring me, Lex looks down at my tux, his mouth tensing. “And what’s with the blue suit? Father’s not going to like it.”

Our father has a strict, black-only tuxedo rule for these things. He likes his functions to be perfectly uniform, everyone matching, like a little collection of figurines. But… “Bitches like me in blue. It brings out my eyes.” I know what they want and I’m happy to give it to them.

Lex frowns disapprovingly. “Tonight isn’t about you, Wick.”

I brush a speck of lint off Lex’s lapel. His suit is, of course, the blackest of blacks. Always toeing Daddy’s line. I snort when he jerks away from my touch. “It’s fine. Father should be too occupied with announcing his new set of cuckold Princes and picking his next heifer to care what color I’m wearing.”

Lex jabs a finger at me, turning to approach Effie. “Don’t call her that.”

“What? That’s what she is. A prized cow specifically for breeding.” I check myself out in the mirror. I look good. Fantastic even.

“She’s a vessel and a symbol,” Lex agrees, coaxing the bird to jump to his arm. “And if anyone hears you say that, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“I can occasionally keep my thoughts to myself, you know.” I turn my face, inspecting my jaw line for any missed patches of stubble. Pristine, as always. “I feel more sorry for the poor bastards Father ends up choosing to rail her. All those fucking rules about… well.Fucking.”

I’ll admit there’s some sour grapes between me and every new set of Princes, but it’s not because I want to be one. Sure, the position comes with a lot of perks, especially if the chick gets knocked up. ‘Set for life’ is what they call it. But even if I did want it, as with most things in our lives, the odds are decidedly not in our favor.

Lex is too old, about to graduate in five months, and then he’ll head straight into the medical program here at Forsyth. Pace, as a convicted felon, is definitely not up to the standards our father has for appointed positions. And me? Well, I’ve been his prized cow since high school. Taking me off the market is a net negative for us both. There’s absolutely no chance I’m narrowing down my options to one pussy for the next year just to be straddled with a baby and responsibilities, no matter how good the perks may be.

“Fucking shouldn’t have rules,” I decide, fiddling with my hair in the mirror.

The thought of being a Prince repels me, but watching Father butt-pat three stuck-up, Royal morons for a year repels me even harder. They’re mostly all the same, each set eager to remind us that adopted or not, in the eyes of Forsyth, all three of us are bastard mutts who lack any Royal blood. Pace entered the system the moment he was born, Lex’s parents weren’t even from Forsyth, and mine…

Well.

My blood might be Royal, but aside from my brothers and Father himself, no one knows. Even if they did, being the descendant of the Barons’ highest Royal lineage would just make me evenlessaccepted in East End.

We were raised on these ideals: bloodlines, legacy, heirs, paternity, building up the Kingdom, all of it hammered home by our adoptive father, the current heirless King. And every lesson ended on the same note.

Our job isn’t to be Royal.

It’s to serve the ones who are.

Hearing the tone of my voice, Lex stiffens, pinning me with a hard look. “Wicker, can you please behave, just for tonight? This is a big deal. He expects us to be on our best behavior.” His jaw tenses as he puts Effie into her cage, closing it up tight. “I needyou on your best fucking behavior.”

I roll my eyes. “We do this every year, Lex. It’s aparty. We’re talking champagne, wine, molly, women in sexy dresses cosplaying as chaste virgins, and best of all?” I reach out to adjust his bowtie, smirking. “Losers. Eleven of them, all sad and desperate, gagging at the chance to taste some Prince cock, and we’re the silver medal, brother. Next best thing.”

“So much for having a gold-plated dick,” Pace mutters.

Gesturing to Pace, I say, “Plus, we need to get our baby brother laid, or else he’s going straight-up Unabomber. He hasn’t gotten any in almost two years–”

“Fuck you, Wick,” Pace doesn’t even turn around to offer his weak protest. “I just got head the other day.”

“Suck my balls,” Effie screeches, pecking at the cage door.

I point out, “You got blown six weeks ago, after my fight, by a girl who didn’t even look happy about it.” Shaking my head, I tell Lex, “Come on, it’s his first party since–”

Lex slams his fist down on the dresser, making the mirror rattle. “Goddamn it, Wick! Aren’t you listening?” The ensuing silence is heavy. Pace’s back is rigid with tension, and even Effie goes quiet. Lex fumes, “It’s our first real appearance together since Pace got sent to fucking prison, and the two of you are in here getting stoned!” Just as quickly as it came, the anger plummets from his expression. His shoulders shift in a careful, awkward way, as if the weight of his tux is painful. Quieter, he asks, “Do you want him to give me another appointment?”

“No,” I answer instantly, startled at the implication. “What kind of fucking question is that?”

“An honest one,” Lex replies, glancing at Pace, who’s so motionless, he could be a statue. Lex sighs, “Pace. You know I don’t blame you. I’m just saying… let’s not flirt with disaster.”

Raising my palms, I relent, “Fine. I’ll be a good boy until the clock strikes midnight. You have my word.”

“Everything should be over by then,” he agrees, seeming mildly appeased. “At least for us.”