Page 1 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

Lord Vasil

There wasn’t another being alive who vexed me more than the fae queen’s second-born son, Prince Cedrych.

With his gilded blond curls, eyes the color of a summer storm, and an entitled arrogance that could not be matched in all the realms, the prince had been an intolerable brat from the time he was a lad, and I doubted much had changed in the years since we’d last spoken.

Only five years separated us in age, but he’d always sought to aggravate and provoke me, if not with his mere presence, then with his very bad behavior.

For instance, years ago when Cedrych was but a fledgling, he snuck into my bed chamber while I was a guest of the fae queen and stole my vanadium sorcerer’s rod right out of its holster.

I caught him with it soon after, sparring with a hanging plant in the grand hall of Queen Gwyneth’s Crystal Castle.

Irate at both the theft and his mischief, I took him over one knee and spanked the fire out of his backside with my bare hand for all of his retinue to see.

And when he’d burst into tears at the humiliation, I’d smiled in a manner I hadn’t in years.

Now, of my own invitation, that same maddening creature sat across from me at my dining table, in a seat which had stood empty for nearly a decade.

Ever since my parents and mentor had perished from a suspected poisoning during a formal ball in this same room, I’d lived alone in my cliffside fortress.

I had servants, of course, and contractual bedmates to satisfy my more carnal needs, but I seldom fraternized with them outside their respective duties, and I rarely entertained guests.

This encounter, however, was necessary, as the queen had recently made me a compelling offer, one that I’d be foolish to dismiss. But upholding my end of the bargain required the prince’s cooperation–I’d insisted.

My fingers moved to grip the handle of my staff, the same one he’d stolen so many years ago, as I took him in.

The prince wasn’t a scrawny lad anymore but had grown into a broad-shouldered and distractingly handsome young man.

The smell of his skin wafted over to me, a piquant blend of dried orange peels and cinnamon with a fainter undertone of honeymead.

His scent was as enticing as it was dangerous, for any attraction to the fae prince would only complicate the matter at hand.

“Are you enjoying your meal, Your Highness?” I asked because he was obviously engrossed in the act of eating, rather than conversing with his host.

“It’s edible,” he replied sourly around a mouthful of fae delicacies I’d had my cooks prepare especially for this occasion.

“And your accommodations?”

He motioned with one hand. “You should open some windows. It’s too stuffy in here. Like a tomb.”

Surely that was a dig at my heritage, for I was vampyre on my mother’s side, which meant I had a sensitivity to sunlight.

Heavy drapery blocked out the harshest rays, and chandeliers gave the room what I thought was a warm ambiance.

The fact that there were cobwebs clinging to the rafters was intentional, for I rather liked the spiders’ company.

“And how are things going for you in Emrallt Valley?” I asked the prince while refolding my napkin in a series of precise triangles.

He glowered at me, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Splendid.”

I sincerely doubted that, but I continued with the charade. “Do you know why your mother sent you here?”

“Diplomatic mission,” he grumbled.

With Cedrych, I could never tell if he was truly that incurious or if he was only pretending. He had the ignorant act down well, but there were a few times when I’d glimpsed a cunning intelligence that had taken me aback.

I drew in a deep breath, trying to remain patient despite his recalcitrant behavior. “And what does that mean to you, Cedrych?”

He sat back and crossed his well-defined arms over his broad chest, stretching the fabric of his emerald jacket at the seams. The color was reserved for fae royalty, and Cedrych wore it well.

The gap in the lacing of his simple white tunic revealed a patch of golden skin, something I found altogether too alluring, not to mention the smell of him had grown stronger, presumably because he’d started to sweat under my interrogation.

“Why don’t you tell me what it means, Lord Vasil?” His delivery was deliberate, infused with a healthy dose of insolence and thinly veiled aggression.

“Your mother tells me you’ve taken up with a commoner,” I said, though the queen was far less generous when describing Cedrych’s lover.

“And? Is it any of your business?” he asked stubbornly.

“I need not tell you what she thinks of the arrangement. I’m sure she’s already made her feelings known.”

“Yes, she certainly has,” he muttered.

It seemed the prince had learned the art of reticence. I was a smidge impressed by his restraint, for the boy I’d known had tended to say the very first thing that came to mind, in turns amusing and rude.

“Your mother wishes for us to be betrothed,” I informed him, cutting to the chase. I tapped my fingernail against the polished wood, slowly ticking away the time. He blinked once, twice, then lunged out of his chair, gracelessly knocking it over. He’d always been a bit of a clumsy lad.

“She… what?” he bellowed, and I assumed the inquiry was purely rhetorical. His wide, blue eyes slowly narrowed as he directed his ire toward me. “Why would you agree to that?”

“I haven’t agreed to anything… yet.” There was one aspect of our arrangement Queen Gwyneth had bade me keep secret: that this betrothal was only temporary until she could find a more suitable match.

In the interim, I was to watch over the prince and mentor him on how to be a proper young gentleman.

But unlike the queen, I detested subterfuge.

I didn’t wish to embark on this arrangement with any secrets between us.

Cedrych would make an informed decision based on all the facts available to us both.

So, I laid out her intentions as plainly as possible. “Your mother wants to use this betrothal as a way to repair your reputation while she searches for a more advantageous match, though she doesn’t wish for you to know that aspect of our arrangement.”

He took a moment to digest that information before his confusion morphed into a sneer. “And what are you to gain from it?” he demanded.

“In exchange for my cooperation, she has offered me unfettered access to the shipping routes to the Northern Realm, which, as you may know, are where we elvish conduct a large part of our trade.”

“So, my mother is selling me off? To you?” he said with a fleeting look of betrayal. Which part was more distressing to him? That he was being betrothed as part of a trade deal, or that it was to me?

“She intends to lend you to me, it would seem,” I corrected.

“But why you?” he insisted as if deeply offended.

I stood to match his stance. I was taller than him but not as wide. Squaring my shoulders, I addressed him directly, “She told me that she has warned you on many occasions that there would be dire consequences if your behavior did not improve.”

“Yes, but that’s what she does. She complains and makes threats, and then I ignore them,” he said with a scoff.

“It would seem this threat was not idle.”

He turned and stalked over to the window, his wings tucked tightly at his back like a folded fan. With both hands, he ripped apart the velvet curtains to gaze out onto the courtyard below. I winced from the sudden shaft of light that cut through the dim room.

“So, this is my punishment, then.” He sounded pensive, as if trying to puzzle out his mother’s larger scheme.

I approached slowly and laid my hands on his shoulders. Instead of tensing, he relaxed under my touch, so I gave a light squeeze and scented him–apprehension and something else too… excitement?

“Your mother believes I can tame you,” I told him. “Her words, not mine.”

“Tame me?” He turned to face me. “Tame me? What does that even mean?”

I studied the peak of one ear where a jeweled emerald cuff clung to the delicate fold of skin, then followed the curve down to his strong neck and the tendons that pulsed with life. Blood was a craving for me, not a necessity, though I’d wager the prince’s blood was exceptional.

“She means for me to offer you some structure and guidance. Apparently, when you are not carousing with your guardsmen or bedding the commoner, you’re drinking too much ale and starting fights with visiting tradesmen.

That speaks to a lack of purpose and direction. Perhaps I can provide you with that.”

His full lips curved downwards, making his stubborn jaw even more pronounced. I’d always been fond of his pout. If I were the one to put it there, even better.

“And I would live here? With you?” he asked.

I nodded. “Likely part of why I was such an appealing match.”

“She wants to be rid of me?”

“She wants to remove you from your current environment. A fresh start in a new place. You could look at it as a sort of training camp, to help you learn the ways of a gentleman.”

“And you’re that gentleman?” he scoffed.

“I could be.” I was confident in my sophistication, at least.

“And would we… fuck?”

A wave of lust swept over me, so alarming and sudden that I took a step back.

His scent was too overpowering. Of course, I was intrigued by the possibility of taking the willful prince apart piece by piece, but I would never act without an ample amount of trust, respect, and communication between us.

The fae prince was not to be trifled with, nor was he one of my contractual bedmates, paid to serve.

“This would be a diplomatic arrangement, an extension of the treaty between our realms. My duty, first and foremost, would be to shape you into a proper young man,” I told him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said with a cunning look.