Page 10 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

“That too. You came in here unsettled, unsure of your place and the newness surrounding you. I’m reorienting you to my desires.

That should give you direction and purpose when you are feeling untethered.

You’ve been trained as a soldier, Cedrych, and soldiers need to be given orders, a mission to accomplish.

” He began cutting a melon into tiny bites, giving me time to process, to pick apart whether what he said was true.

“And my mission?” I asked.

“For now? It’s to please me.”

“That seems too simple.”

“I’m not an easy man to please.”

I believed him. And a large part of me wanted to please him, to hear his praise, to be invited into his bedchamber…

It sounded so easy and yet, my mind was laden with all the ways I might screw up.

Hadn’t that been my objective with my own mother, to please her?

One that I’d failed at miserably time and again.

“And what is your mission?” I asked.

“My mission is to care for you and see to your every need.”

Every need? My balls tingled with anticipation, but I suspected the lord would make me work for it. “What else will be part of our routine?” I asked.

“We’ll figure it out as we go. I may assign you tasks. I’ll also correct you when necessary.”

“This is to help me become a gentleman?” I couldn’t help but have doubts.

“In the short-term it’s to build trust, but in the long-term, yes.”

“Have you done this before?” He seemed altogether too comfortable with this role of… guardian?

“Not like this, but I’ve given a lot of thought to what you might need. Many moons, in fact, since you last visited me here. You may find it tedious or perhaps even a little overwhelming, especially at first, so I want you to have a word for when you’d like to take a break.”

“A word?”

“Yes, any word. One we can both use when we need a moment to pause and collect ourselves.”

“Halt,” I said, for it seemed the most obvious choice to me.

He nodded. “Halt it is. I hope you know, Cedrych, this doesn’t have to be a battle between us.”

“Everything in life’s a battle.”

“Perhaps then, you can imagine us fighting on the same side, at least some of the time?”

“For the betterment of my disposition?” I said with a hint of sarcasm.

He smirked. “Yes, but it’s not so one-sided. I’m getting something out of this too.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

He glanced down at my lap, specifically the bulge in my deerskin breeches which was embarrassingly obvious. He had no right to excite me and then tease me for it. No right at all.

“I hope to show you soon enough, fair prince.” Vasil snapped his handkerchief, startling me from my thoughts. “Finish up here and come to my chambers directly. I’ll have the water heated to a suitable temperature by the time you arrive.”

“Yes, my lord,” I said, trying out the moniker for myself.

“Very good,” he purred, sounding pleased if not a little smug.

Even more alarming, I liked it.

True to his word, the shaving water was warm when I arrived, the liquid pooling in a cast iron pot over a small stove that was lit by the eternal flame.

How convenient to have a power source at your fingertips, one that never expired, nor created any toxic byproducts.

No wonder the elvish were at the forefront of new technologies.

“Will you have a seat, Cedrych?” Vasil asked, gesturing to the slightly reclined leather chair. I sat down in it and Vasil threw a cloth drape over my chest, artfully wrapping my upper body so that only my neck and face were exposed.

“How’s the temperature?” Vasil asked, smudging a bit of water over my betrothal bite–was it intentional? I shivered despite the warmth.

“Too cold?” Vasil asked.

“No, it’s fine.”

Vasil then flicked open his shaving knife with a flourish and swiped it a few times over a leather strop, sharpening the blade. His every movement was purposeful and done with grace, and I found myself falling into a sort of mindless trance just watching him.

“This isn’t like shaving yourself,” I warned him, for the blade looked very sharp indeed.

“No, it’s not, but I’ll be extra careful with you,” Vasil assured me with a hint of a smile. He set the razor aside to brush cream on my neck and face, careful to avoid my mouth and nostrils.

“So, you’ve no valet or personal attendant?” I asked.

“None,” he replied. “Do you think less of me for it?”

“Not at all,” I said. If anything I thought more of him, not needing attention to his every need, to be self-sufficient, at least when it came to his own dress and grooming.

I had to give him credit for his style at least–I’d never manage to look so put-together on my own.

But it did seem a tad lonely–dressing alone, eating alone, wandering this large, empty fortress alone…

“We can look into getting you a valet, if you desire one,” Vasil said, misinterpreting my silence.

“No, thank you,” I said too quickly. But what if he thought I expected this sort of treatment every day? “I’m fine with shaving and dressing myself,” I assured him.

Vasil nodded and studied my face like a sculptor would his medium, then angled my head backward and made his first scrape across my skin, right over the notch in my throat. I swallowed instinctively, encouraged to find everything still working properly.

“You do have a lovely neck,” Vasil said, almost absently.

“I… th… thank you, my lord,” I stuttered. The praise went straight to my cock, thankfully hidden underneath the cloth drape.

Vasil said nothing, simply continued his work skillfully and efficiently, two qualities I was coming to admire about the man.

I relaxed into the chair at last, trusting Vasil not to slit my throat or even slice me accidentally.

My mind drifted back to last night when the lord was pressed up against me, his arousal so blatant and unabashed.

Was it a power move meant to intimidate me?

And even more concerning, why had I enjoyed it so much?

“What are you thinking about?” Vasil asked.

I obviously couldn’t tell him the truth–that I was daydreaming about his cock–Goddess forbid he get an even bigger head. “Your fortress’s defenses,” I lied.

“Ah,” the lord said as if it were a topic he’d been wanting to discuss.

After giving me a rundown of where the various guards were stationed and a timetable of their shift changes, he then outlined his security protocol, which was extensive, even for a member of the royal family.

I was to have a guard with me at all times when traversing the fortress.

I was not permitted to leave the grounds without Lord Vasil’s clearance.

I was to follow my schedule with no deviations…

But even more alarming were the punishments he laid out for me, should I choose to disobey.

“Spanking, flogging, caning,” he listed. “The severity of the punishment will fit the crime. Do you have any objections to corporal punishment, Cedrych?”

I’d gotten into countless bar fights, but I’d never been physically disciplined before, though it was common enough amongst the guard for various infractions. The thought of it stirred mixed feelings within me.

“Cedrych?” he asked, pausing the shave to study me.

“No objections, sir.”

Vasil nodded, then set the razor aside, grabbed a warm towel and draped it over the lower half of my face before continuing, “You’ll have your word if it becomes too much, but I’d like you to lean into the idea of punishment. I fear you’ve gone too long without it.”

“I’m an adult,” I reminded him.

“Yes,” he said as if having doubts.

While I stewed on that slight, Vasil gently wiped any remaining residue from my face.

He warmed his hands with a lightly scented oil and moisturized my cheeks and neck, taking the time to massage the tight cords of muscle in the back of my neck.

Did he treat himself with such careful consideration or was this special for me?

“There,” he said at last with obvious satisfaction. “Now that is a proper shave.” I dragged my thumb along the edge of my jaw, to find my skin smooth as silk. “Well?” Vasil asked.

“Passable,” I conceded.

“Passable?” he questioned with a skeptic’s air.

“All right, possibly the best shave of my life,” I admitted.

Smiling, he set aside his instruments and reached for my hand. “Come with me, Your Highness. Let me show you my favorite room of this fortress, my study.”

Vasil’s study was more like a library, containing more books than I’d ever seen in one place, even more than the royal archives at Crystal Castle.

In the middle of the room was a large drafting table with maps of all the realms laid out with care.

And on top of the maps, were intricately fashioned metal markers, which I deduced signified each realm’s military capabilities, miniatures likely fashioned by Vasil’s own hand.

“I’m not planning on going to war,” he said, noticing my attention, “but it’s best to be prepared at all times.”

“I agree,” I said. My mother relied too much on her own alliances and clandestine scheming.

I’d always argued that a robust military made diplomacy less necessary, and fewer concessions must be made, but my mother preferred to invest in courting foreign dignitaries and throwing lavish parties in their honor.

I didn’t share that assessment with Lord Vasil, but I appreciated his similar mindset.

“So, you have metal sorcerers and archers,” I surmised. “What of your infantry?”

“I have those too.” He pointed to a figure holding a sword. The peaked ears and lack of wings denoted them as elvish. “And a skilled cavalry as well.” He motioned to a set of figurines, both elvish men and women, mounted on horses with their spears poised to strike.

“With these numbers you could easily conquer the vampyre,” I mused, for I knew their population to be much smaller. “Perhaps the fae as well.”