Page 109
Story: Princes of Legacy
The guys share a look.
“This isn’t a naming ceremony,” I guess, halting. “This is a… de-crowning?”
Lex argues, “It is a naming ceremony,” and lifts a hand to stroke my belly. “But if the frat blesses it, it’ll also be the beginning of our son’s ascension.”
Pace adds, “We didn’t want you worrying over the vote.”
“Now?” I ask, feeling more than a bit blindsided, but the resolution in their expressions tells me this wasn’t a sudden decision. I look back toward my father, and then sweep my gaze over the men in the room. Just like my Princes, they’re dressed in their malicious best, black ties and coattails. The scent of their collective cologne and aftershave is a radiant, throbbing thing, but mostly I sense their restless energy.
These are terrible men, and in Forsyth, there’s only two things to do with terrible men.
Kill them or recruit them.
I take a deep breath. “Okay.”
Tommy, on the other hand, isn’t okay. “What the hell is this? Why is the King bound and gagged?”
Lex steps forward, eyes hardening. “As you can see, your King hasn’t been away on business for the last few months. He’s been here, secure in the dungeon. He was placed there after we discovered that he was the one responsible for the attacks on the Princess and the palace.”
“Bullshit,” someone in the crowd mutters. “The King would never kill his daughter and grandson.”
“You’d think that,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, “but you’ve all seen—andparticipated in—the lengths my father will go to in order to keep me in line. There’s not a man in the room who can deny that.”
Gazes shift, feet shuffle, and no one does.
“He hired a Baron to do the dirty work,” Wick announces, lifting his chin. “Their own King confirmed it before offering his Baron up to me as a sacrifice for the affront.”
“You killed a Baron?” a voice says. “Fuck. That’s savage.”
“That’s what arealfather does for his son,” Wicker replies, eyes sharp as blades. “Rufus made an attempt on my blood, and in return, he’s paid the price, too.”
“You’re the father?” Matt asks, and I see it, the shift in respect as they all regard him. These men buy into this world hook, line, and sinker. The fact that Wicker’s sperm fought its way upstream to fertilize my egg sheds him in a new light.
Dory barks a joyful laugh. “Fuck, man, congratulations!”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think a spot of color rises to his cheeks. “This baby is mine and Verity’s, and by the rules of Psi Nu Zeta, also my brothers’. But hear this,” he adds, meeting the eyes of each man in the room. “Rufus Ashby has no claim to him, not after what we’ve learned.”
Pace thrusts a hand out, pointing to the King. “This man is not a creator.” Face hard, he looks at Rufus, lip curling in disgust. “He’s nothing. He’s firing blanks.”
A wave of confused mutters rise over the room.
“What does that mean?” Tommy asks.
“He’s medically infertile,” Lex confirms as he approaches the throne. Seeming to derive satisfaction from the way Rufus pales, he leans forward, spitting the words like venom. “It seems that after Verity and Michael, he was unable to impregnate anyone else. And trust us,” he slams his hands onto Rufus’ arms, meeting his glare with a stony smirk, “he tried.”
“Farrah Baxter.” Pace clasps his hands behind his back as he strolls down the front row, pausing in front of Dorian Baxter. “Dethroned as Princess and held captive in the palace dungeon for ten months while Rufus raped her. She was abused—defiled—and then murdered.”
Dory stares at him, face slack. “Farrah Baxter? My father’s sister?” He shifts his gaze to Rufus. “That’s not possible. She ran away to their grandparents’ home in Korea forever ago. I never even met her.”
“You can meet her now, if you like.” Pace doesn’t look happy to give the news, his own eyes swirling with turmoil. “Her bones are still in the basement. We kept them for you, so your family can put her to rest.” Dory is still reeling from the news, but Pace suddenly spins, stalking down the aisle. “Margo Hampton. Held captive in the palace dungeon for five months. Murdered.” He stops in front of Julian Carter, who for some reason seems to know the name.
“Hampton?” he asks, stunned. “Was she?—”
“Chloe’s second cousin,” Pace confirms, and I realize why he stopped at Julian. Chloe is his girlfriend. “You wouldn’t know the other three women whose bones we found buried in the solarium,” Pace goes on, returning to the front of the room.“They were just women. No old money names or reputations. They never had the chance to build any.”
The room falls silent as they all take in the horrific details of lives lost to this man. A man who forced his body and will on them until there was nothing left but bones and dirt.
“Yes,” Pace says, turning his gaze to Ashby, “even Danner betrayed your pitiful ass.”
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