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RUAROK

The crash of my bedroom door smashing open is like a thunderclap happening right above my head. I’d been sleeping, my head filled with thoughts of the princess now instead of the queen—what a fickle beast I am.

I’m wide awake now, though.

Suddenly, my quarters are filled with guards.

They all seem to be yelling at once.

“He’s in here!”

“Get him!”

“Act fast.”

I push myself to sitting and then to my knees. The guards surround my bed, edging closer, and more guards block the door. I wish I had thought to bring some kind of weapon to bed, but it hadn’t occurred to me.

I’d left the feast in the Great Hall without incident and believed everything was fine.

I was clearly wrong.

I refuse to go easily. It’s clear to me that the reason behind this invasion is my father, and behind that is most likely the new queen and her princess.

Reaching deep inside, I pull my magic to the surface and then thrust it outward.

My power isn’t only over the female kind. I can just as easily overcome the men, too.

The guard closest to me lets out a groan, and the bulge in his tight pants is apparent. He reaches for me but hesitates.

Give in, I mentally will him. Feel the hot wetness of a mouth around your cock.

His hand goes to the front of his pants, and instead of grabbing me and yanking me off the bed, he unzips himself, freeing his erection.

The other guards stare at him in shock, though they should know what they are dealing with.

What I am is no secret. My father really should have warned them all about that before sending them in.

I almost want to laugh, if the situation weren’t so serious.

“Put it away, man,” one of his comrades yells.

But the guard is too far gone, lost in his head now, only focusing on the pleasure I’ve sent coursing through his body.

His hand moves up and down on his cock, his jaw rigid with concentration.

His aura lights up—a forest green—and deepens.

He beats off hard, and I know he won’t stop until he comes.

I turn my attention to a second guard, sending out that same forceful sexual energy.

I’ll have them bending each other over the bed soon enough, fucking each other in the ass, even if they’ve never so much as looked at another man in such a way.

When they come round, they’ll be confused and ashamed, and angry and sickened about what they’ve done, but they’ll also remember how much they fucking loved it.

The second guard moves his attention from me to the first guard—the one whose cock is in his hand.

With a moan, he drops to his knees in front of his comrade and swallows down his dick.

Guard number one fucks his face hard, and guard two chokes and gags, tears streaming down his cheeks.

But guard two has pulled out his own cock now and is masturbating at the same time as sucking his friend.

I can tell from the color and intensity of their auras that they’re loving it, and I glance around, assessing the auras of the others to figure out who’s the most susceptible. Which one is turned on by seeing the two men together, even if they’d deny it until they were blue in the face?

The other guards understand what is happening. Several of them back off, taking steps in retreat. They glance anxiously at one another, not wanting to be the person who next ends up sucking cock.

Guard number one pulls guard two to his feet, turns him around so his hands are flat on my bed, yanks down his pants, and then rams himself in deep.

I wince, and suck air in over my teeth. Ouch . Going in with no lube, on what I assume is an inexperienced asshole. That’s got to hurt. The poor guy won’t be able to sit down for days.

I focus my attention on the next closest guard, the one with a golden yellow aura, and spill my magic toward him.

His expression tightens with pleasure, and his movement toward me falters.

I want to get him in a line with the other two, maybe take guard one up the ass, but I don’t have time.

Another guard finds his courage and approaches me, and I witness understanding passing between them all.

They realize there’s too many of them for me to control at once. Even with this distraction, they remember their jobs, and that’s to apprehend me.

I have no choice but to fight physically.

One guard grabs my arm, and I manage to swing my elbow and catch him in the jaw, sending him flying backward. Another launches himself at me, and I throw a punch, my knuckles connecting with his nose with a satisfying crunch.

Rich, red blood sprays from the injury, a couple of droplets hitting my skin.

The distraction is enough for two more guards to slam straight into me, knocking me hard to the stone floor.

All the air bursts from my lungs, and it’s as though an iron band has wrapped around my chest, preventing my ribs from expanding to draw another breath.

The guards seem unaware of this as they haul me back to my feet. They yank my arms behind my back and clip heavy metal cuffs around my wrists. All the fight has gone out of me, but I’m still indignant about the way they’re manhandling me. Don’t they know who I am?

“I’m your prince,” I spit when I’m finally able to draw breath. “Unhand me this instant.”

They don’t reply. I understand they have the same kind of distaste for me as my father has. On the other side of my bed, both guards come with yells of pleasure and dismay.

I’m dragged down the corridors, torches burning to light the way. Staff catch sight of us, scullery maids, and handmaidens, and flee as though a battle is on its way.

Perhaps it is.

What the hell is my father planning to do with me? Would he have me killed?

I’ve always believed he won’t go so far, but now I wonder. I am his only son. His only child. He might not like me very much, but would he really wipe out his own bloodline? Except maybe he doesn’t see me as his bloodline, or at least he sees me as having polluted it.

Would he rather see me dead than passing on my genes?

The guards haul me into the Great Hall. I’m unsurprised to find my father sitting on his throne, his expression impassive about his only son being thrown to the floor at his feet. His new wife sits beside him. Can I use my magic on her? If I do, is that more or less likely to get me killed?

Slowly, I get to my feet. I’m trembling with rage at being treated this way.

“What is the meaning of this, Father?” I demand.

His face is as rigid as ice. “Your plot has been exposed.”

“Plot? I have no plot.”

His wings vibrate with his fury, shimmering like starlight on the ocean. The hum of the vibration fills the air.

I experience a pang of remorse, of regret. What would I have been if it had been that side of me that had been expressed in my genetic makeup? Would my father have hated me so much if I’d been more like him?

“One to have the queen and her child killed?”

I grimace. “Oh, that one. ”

I don’t correct him that he’s only half right but how does he even know that much?

The why and how comes to me. I’d believed no one had the talent to mindread, but I’d been wrong about that, at least in part.

“You had someone read my thoughts?”

He scratches his fingers through the silvery strands of his beard. “You’re like an open book, Ruarok. A disgusting open book.”

“Thinking something isn’t the same as acting on it. If I’d have wanted to have the girl killed, then I would have. I’d had other plans for Queen Lorith.” I smirk.

“She is your stepmother and your queen,” he snaps. “You will treat her with respect.”

I can’t help myself. I snort. “My stepmother? She’s not much older than I am.”

“She’s still your queen.”

My queen. I like the sound of that. Except I want to be the one sitting on the throne. Not scrambling around on the floor like a nobody. This was never supposed to be my destiny.

“A part of me wants to make an example of you,” Father continues. “I should have you taken to the city square and strung up and left to hang until your flesh falls from your bones. Traitors to the kingdom would be treated no differently.”

My jaw drops. “A traitor? Is that what you think I am? Because of a mere thought I had? I love this kingdom, love it more than anything else in the world—even you, Father. The idea that I could betray it is unthinkable.”

“A kingdom is nothing without its king, and I am the king, and you chose to betray me. ”

“I did nothing ,” I hiss from between gritted teeth.

“No, but in time, you will.”

I shake my head in dismay. “So, you’re going to have your own son—your only offspring—executed for something he may possibly do in the future. I assume you won’t take my word that I’ll behave myself?”

He scoffs lightly at this. “When have you ever behaved yourself, Ruarok?”

The king has a point.

He carries on. “As much as I feel I will regret my choices, I can’t bring myself to have you hanged,” he says.

My heart catches, but not in a good way. I know what the alternative is. “If you’re going to banish me from Highdrift, then I’d prefer you hanged me. I have no wish to exist outside of our lands.”

Because existing is all I would be doing.

The wild and wicked moorlands beyond our kingdom are desolate and barren.

There’s no wood to burn for fire or heat, no way to cook our food.

The lack of trees also means no shelter from the biting winds that strike across the moorland or the icy, lashing rain.

And the lack of shelter or warmth or hot food isn’t even the worst thing about those lands.

There are creatures far more fearsome than I am that prowl the moorland.

Huge beasts with sleek, black fur and yellow eyes, and rows of teeth than can strip the flesh from a man—or a Fae—within seconds.

When the dark falls out there, they move in silence, blending in with the black, so you’re dead and devoured before you even hear them coming.