Page 30 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

He turned over to face me and my cock slipped out, causing me a pang of longing. “Do you like having me here? In your fortress? In your bed?” he asked.

“Are you looking for reassurance?” I asked him.

“Yes, s’pose I am,” he said with bald honesty. I was proud of him and how far we’d come, that he trusted me enough to show his true vulnerability.

“This is where you belong, Cedrych. Here, in this fortress, with me.” I emphasized the point with a tender kiss to his forehead.

“Warming your cock?” he asked.

“And other vital organs,” I said and he laughed. Then he rolled us both and pinned me to the mattress. The man was strong. If it were anyone else, I’d be fighting them off in a panic, but the prince had special privileges.

“I want to be here in your fortress and in your bed, Mercier.” He planted a trail of kisses down the center of my chest, then gave one nipple a hard suck that had my cock stirring, the insatiable beast. “I’m learning a lot from you. Not only how to service royal dick.”

“Excellent marks on that, Cedrych. With regards to servicing royal dick, you’re an apt pupil.”

“My tutor knows a thing or two. But there’s another reason why I want to be here,” he said.

“Mmmm, and what’s that?” I asked, tugging on one of his charming curls.

“To protect you,” he said in earnest.

My stomach did that strange, somersaulty thing. Indigestion, most likely.

“That’s why we have guards,” I reminded him in case he thought I’d allow him to risk his life again.

“You almost died yesterday,” he said with a frown. In all the chaos, I hadn’t really considered my own mortality and how close I’d come to losing my life. “Doesn’t that scare you?” he asked, perplexed by my silence.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t feel very novel at this point, but you’re right. I will increase our security and recruit more guards.”

“You shouldn’t have to live like a prisoner in your own kingdom. We need to know who’s behind this,” he insisted, palming one of his fists, angry on my behalf.

The matter was pressing, but there’d been so many attempts on my life over the years, I’d begun to take it as a matter of course. “I agree with you,” I said cautiously.

“And I want to know what happens with the interrogation. I think it’s only fair, since my safety’s at risk too.”

His reasoning made sense. And the cur who’d tried to kill us both was surrounded on all sides by unbendable elvish steel of my own making, monitored by guards, some who were sorcerers in their own right, all of them loyal to me and me alone.

“I’ll discuss it with Commander Farrow, but you must promise not to act without my permission,” I said.

“I promise not to throw myself in front of an assassin’s arrow,” he replied, choosing his words carefully.

“Hmmm,” I said, not entirely convinced. Yes, my gorgeous, headstrong prince needed to be brought to heel. And soon. “This vigilante streak does not become you,” I told him.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, toying with one of my nipples.

“I have remedies for that too,” I said with what I hoped was an air of authority, but the brat only grinned. And then he kissed me and I was done.

We spent the morning in my baths where I hand-fed the prince his favorite fae delicacies while he soaked in the warm mineral water.

Then I supervised as the royal healer unwrapped his bandage and inspected the stitches on his arm to make sure they weren’t torn or infected.

Once his wound was cleaned and rewrapped and with his arm resting on a towel outside the bath, I dismissed my servants and joined him in the water.

I’d always enjoyed the therapeutic effects of the hot springs, the way my worries seemed to melt away.

While we soaked, Cedrych asked questions about our penal system. I’d decided to trust him with elvish state secrets–he’d saved my life after all–and if it ruined me later, then so be it. I was throwing caution out the window.

“Do you starve them?” Cedrych asked, referring to the culprit currently being held in my subterranean dungeon. As of that morning, the prisoner hadn’t uttered a word, but I had faith in Anika’s tactics.

“No, prisoners are fed three meals a day.”

“Is it gruel?” he asked with a look of displeasure, my pampered prince.

“Their meals are prepared alongside our own. Judging from the lad’s scrawny frame, the food may be the best he’s ever had.”

“Torture, then? Dismemberment?”

“No, Cedrych,” I said, faintly disturbed by his assumptions, though it did give me an insight as to how prisoners were treated in the fae realm. “We do not torture or dismember our prisoners here in the elvish realm, and if I may say so, I find the practice of wing amputation to be quite barbaric.”

“Then how do you get them to talk?” he asked.

“Patience,” I said and tucked an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

So unruly. “The boredom gets to most people soon enough, and if it doesn’t, we discuss privileges, such as a visit from a loved one or a walk outside.

We also ask if there is anyone else we should talk to about the crime, a witness who can corroborate their account. ”

“But this one is obviously guilty,” he said, his skepticism of our practices obvious on his frowning face. “Will you hold him until he talks?”

“I will. The crime was serious. He won’t be freed even if he does talk, though at least we can move onto sentencing.”

“Death?” Cedrych asked.

“No, we don’t employ the death penalty here either. We believe all individuals should have the opportunity for restitution, and if that’s not possible, we find a suitable place to hold them where they won’t cause additional harm.”

“And if he never talks?” Cedrych asked.

I shrugged. “That’s his right, but his sentence will be longer and possibly more unpleasant.”

Cedrych pondered this. “For those who don’t get death or dismemberment, we send them to labor camps or they’re banished to the Northern Realm. My mother has threatened me with that once or twice.”

“Not surprising,” I said with a smile.

His expression dropped and he said soberly. “It could have been her, my lord. It might be my mother who’s behind this.”

I reached for his hand and gently squeezed. “I know.”

“She could have been the one who orchestrated your parents’ death and that of your mentor,” he said, sounding more and more distressed.

I nodded. “None of my investigations have produced any evidence to support that, but I definitely haven’t ruled it out as a possibility.”

“Well, that’s good, that there’s no evidence, at least.” His eyebrows drew together. “But if it were the case, why would she send me here? I don’t think she wants me dead.” His expression was pinched. I hated seeing him in such turmoil. But I didn’t want to lie to him either.

“I don’t think she’d want to harm you either, Cedrych. I’ve tried for many years to decipher your mother’s strategy and I am befuddled by it most times.”

“Me too. I can never tell if she’s acting on whim or if it’s part of some larger plan.”

“I can promise you this, though. Whatever your mother has done in the past or may do in the future, I won’t hold it against you, as long as you’re innocent to her schemes.”

He sat with that information for a bit. “If I were to stay with you, my loyalties would be split.” His eyes searched mine. The suggestion of making our situation permanent–a real betrothal, a real commitment–ignited a tender flame of hope that terrified me as much as it elated me.

I schooled my expression into something stern and said, “If you were to stay with me and become my royal consort, your loyalty would be to the elvish above all others. The fae and your family would become second in your loyalty to me, your sovereign.”

Your sovereign. A kingdom to share with a more than capable partner. Cedrych as my subject, my submissive, and my consort. It felt like a dream that was just out of reach; if I thought about it too hard, it might vanish.

He sucked on his lower lip in a very boyish way. It was not to tempt me, though it did. I leaned back on a folded towel and closed my eyes so he might ruminate in private. My heart beat wildly in my chest. Had I just proposed to him? Would he accept?

“I could be loyal,” Cedrych said at last. I opened my eyes to find him staring back at me with a serious expression. “I could be loyal to you, my lord.”

I nodded, a tenuous tendril of hope unraveling in my chest. “And I to you, Cedrych.”

After our soak, I laid him out on a padded table and massaged him from head to foot.

I wanted to work out any lingering aches and pains, and while doing so, I inspected him all over for injuries from his run-in with the assassin or from our bedsport.

I tended to his hole too, administering a soothing tincture to help with any swelling or abrasions.

“Do you do this with all of your conquests?” he asked.

“You are not a conquest, Cedrych,” I reminded him, yet again.

“Your lovers then?”

“I don’t keep lovers, as you know. And you are my betrothed.”

“So you keep saying,” he said with a hint of sass.

I hoped it was a welcome reminder. “To answer your question, I do administer aftercare, but it is somewhat brief and to the point. I’ve never had a sex partner spend the night in my bedchambers, and I’ve certainly never treated them to a full-body massage.”

He was on his back now, lazily dragging his hand over his glistening torso, edging his fingers alongside his half-hard cock without actually touching it, trying to provoke me, it would seem. “You’re saying I’m special?” he asked as if it weren’t obvious.

“I’m saying you’re high-maintenance,” I retorted.