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RUAROK

The court has gathered in the Great Hall. From the clock tower, a bell dongs with a deep resonating sound that travels for miles, signaling the return of our ruler.

I’ve showered and changed, aware that I’m going to be on show to the rest of the court, and I don’t want to stink of sex around my father and his new queen. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but this is a special occasion.

No matter how many times I’ve entered the Great Hall, the grandeur and beauty of the space always hits me. Overhead are high, vaulted ceilings, intricate paintings of winged beasts between the beams. Beneath my feet are polished parquet floors.

The Great Hall is already crammed with my father’s subjects.

An energy fills the air, as do excited whispers that occur behind hands about who the new queen will be.

At the head of the room, on a platform, are two thrones.

The smaller of the two is where I would normally be seated, except now my spot is to be taken by the new queen .

Jealousy bites at me like rats’ teeth at the thought.

As I enter, people notice me and duck their heads in small bows of greeting. No one smiles.

I’m not loved here. I already know that. The subjects are unsure of me, and they have good reason to be. My kind of magic is not to be trusted.

I stick out like a sore thumb.

I’m surrounded by these perfect, white-blond haired, pointy-eared Fae, but my appearance is the opposite.

While I might have half Fae blood running through my veins, I got my looks from my mother’s side.

My dark hair and eyes mean I stand out as someone—some thing —different.

There are a few others dotted between the Fae who don’t have the classic Fae appearance, but they’re only there because they have some Fae blood in them.

Non-Fae aren’t allowed in the castle at all.

Even the servants, like the girl I’ve just left, will have some Fae blood, though they’re more likely to be the offspring of some lesser mortal like a human.

My heritage is something my father has never let me forget.

I’m his only offspring, but often I think he’d prefer if he hadn’t sired anyone at all.

He’s ashamed of me—ashamed of how I look, of how I act, of how my magic works.

Perhaps a lesser man would embody his shame and hide himself away, but I refuse to give him that satisfaction.

I take my new place, standing at the king’s left-hand side, one pace back from the throne. The empty seat beside the king’s throne mocks me.

A hush falls over the crowd.

A horn sounds, and a voice rings out.

“Introducing King Themaris, first king of his name and ruler of the lands of Askos, and Queen Lorith, Princess of the lands of Torremora.”

My father sweeps into the Great Hall. He still wears his riding cloak, which billows around him as he walks. One of his staff moves forward to unclip the clasp from around his throat and quickly whisks it away, all without my father having to break his stride.

I’d imagined he’d have come in with his new bride on his arm, but, as is usual with my father, he has her walking several steps in his wake. His large form hides her from me, but I’m eager to get a look at the new queen, the woman who will technically be my stepmother.

I smirk at the thought. I’ve never had anyone in my life in a mothering role before.

After I was born, my father took me from my mother’s arms and banished her from the kingdom.

The only reason I know she was Incubi is because her genes were clearly stronger than my father’s.

I’m sure if I’d been born looking like him, and with more Fae magic than Incubi, he’d never have revealed to me—or anyone else—what makes up the other half of my parentage.

The king reaches the platform and steps up to his throne. The motion removes him from my line of sight and reveals the person a few steps behind him.

The sight of my father’s bride-to-be snatches the breath from my lungs.

She’s older than I am, but still nowhere near as old as the king.

She is beautiful. Waist length, white-blonde hair, cat-shaped pale blue eyes, skin like marble. Her fingers are long and elegant, her wrists narrow. In the tight corset, her breasts practically spill out, and her iridescent wings lightly pulse the air behind her.

There’s no doubt that Queen Lorith is full-blooded Fae. It isn’t only in her appearance, but in the way she holds herself, her shoulders back, her chin held high. The air around her vibrates with magic. It’s no wonder my father decided to take her as his bride.

What the fuck is a beauty like her doing marrying an old man like him?

My father reaches his throne, and, without sitting, turns to face the room. He is mere feet from me—so close I could reach out and touch him—but he doesn’t even make eye contact with me. I wonder what the hell I’m doing here, when I could still be balls deep inside a naked woman.

He reaches out and clasps his new bride by the arm and guides her to stand in front of what is now her throne. I try not to taste the bitterness of being replaced on my tongue and fail.

Whoops and cheers come from the crowds, filling the air in a deafening roar, but my father lifts his hand to silence them.

“Thank you, all, for giving us such a warm welcome home. Tonight, we will feast and drink, and dance and sing to celebrate this union, and your new queen.”

Cheers erupt again.

I clench my fists and grind my teeth as cold anger and jealousy wrap around my heart.

I plan to get my father on his own as soon as possible. I have questions.

No sooner have the king and queen arrived, they leave again. My father never even acknowledges me .

So much for wanting me here.

My father has living quarters that are completely separate from the new queen’s.

I don’t understand it myself. If I had a woman like that at my disposal, I’d have her permanently in my bed.

I’d want her bathing in my clawfoot tub, the scent of her in the air.

I’d want her standing naked as she chooses her clothes in the morning, and naked again as she discards them last thing at night.

I’d want to watch her brush her silver-white hair in the mirror and hold her eye in the glass.

But my father probably doesn’t want her presence interrupting his nightly visits from the whores he loves so much—whores like my mother had been.

The women he holds with such disdain yet also can’t get enough of.

I wait until the Great Hall has cleared out, and then make my way through the castle to my father’s quarters.

The only way to reach his tower is across the sky bridge.

It’s not really a bridge, as such—more a suspended corridor.

It’s designed so only a couple of people can reach the King’s Tower at a time.

If we were ever to be invaded, it would allow his men to defend him no matter how many people were in the invading party.

I hope Cirrus Planetree won’t be stationed outside the door, but it’s a possibility. He’ll have been given instructions to keep me away.

I cross the sky bridge, aware of the wind buffeting it, and reach my father’s door. There’s no sign of the King’s Guard, for which I’m grateful. Not that I can’t handle them, but I need to keep all my energy for the confrontation with my father.

Without bothering to knock, I throw open the heavy wooden door and stride into the room .

My father stands at the tall, arched windows, gazing down onto the city and lands below.

The castle and tower are positioned on the highest part of Askos.

Below us, the city of Highdrift sprawls in a rabbit warren of streets and alleys.

I often slip away from the castle at night, disguised as one of our groomsmen, to frequent the whorehouses and bars.

Not that I need to pay a whore, but sometimes…

okay, more than sometimes…they know tricks that regular women don’t.

I’ve not yet had a whore gasp in shock when I’ve told her that I’m fucking her ass tonight.

They tend to be well-practiced. That’s not to say I don’t like ass-virgins—they can be fun all of their own—but they take time and practice to be able to fully take my size, and sometimes I’m hungry and don’t have the patience.

“What do you want, Ruarok?” he says without turning to face me.

“Good to see you missed your only son,” I reply, unable to keep the snideness out of my tone.

I hate that he brings out this side in me.

“The only time you want to see me is to either cause trouble, or because you’re in trouble.”

“Perhaps I simply want to wish you congratulations on your new bride since you completely ignored me in the Great Hall.”

He spins on his heel to look me in the eye. “Not everything is about you. At your age, I would have thought you’d learned that by now.”

Age is a strange thing among the Fae. I’m two hundred years old but only matured around forty years ago. A year in human years is ten years in Fae .

My father is four hundred years old, while the new queen must only be about three hundred, if that.

“Perhaps I just never had the right upbringing to learn it.”

I was raised by the castle staff, people who were only there because they were paid to be.

As I started to mature and come into my magic, even those people no longer wanted to be around me.

A teenage Incubi, with hormones flying and little control over the magic he’s coming into, isn’t a safe thing to be near.

“Shouldn’t you be with your new bride,” I say, “giving her a tour of her new home, maybe, making her welcome?”

He shrugs. “She has her own people for that. She doesn’t need me to do it.”

“She’s brought her own people with her?” I ask, curious. “Who?”

New people means fresh blood. They won’t know who or what I am, which always makes things more interesting. I imagine all the rich pickings that will be had among these people from a far-off land. Will they have been warned about me? I hope not.

“Yes, she brought all her lady’s maids, and her daughter.”

The word stops me. “Her daughter? She has a child?”

This is news to me.

“Yes. The rot has taken hold in her homeland of Torremora. It took her husband, too. She’s been left without a home or a husband to protect them, so I stepped in.”

My jaw drops. “You’ve berated me for years for being a bastard, and now you’re taking on another man’s child?” I can’t hide the disbelief in my tone.

“It’s not the fact you’re a bastard that’s been the problem, Ruarok. It’s who your mother was.”

I snort in contempt. “My mother was a Succubus, and I bet you loved every second of fucking her.”

“I didn’t know that’s what she was when I met her. She tricked me, just like all your kind do.”

I shake my head, huffing air from my nostrils. “How can I trick anyone? All anyone has to do is look at me and they see what I am.”

“You’re a monster. A fucking energy vampire.”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t insult me, Father. I’m nothing like those messy bastards. You think I’d want to get blood all over my face…” I consider this for a minute. “Well, I don’t mind one kind of blood, if it’s that time of the month.”

His upper lip curls in distaste. “You disgust me. I’m ashamed that you’re my son.”

“How many times have I heard that before? You think telling me one more time is going to make the slightest difference? The truth is that you did something stupid by screwing my mother, and now you’ve got a lifetime of me to put up with.”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice with your mother, is it? Like I said, your kind are vampires.”

“And now your only son is half one.”

He shakes his head and turns back to the window.

“This conversation is over,” he says. “I’ve had a long journey, and I need to rest before the feast tonight. I won’t stop you from coming, but if you’re not there, you won’t be missed.”

I scowl. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”