Page 34 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

The duke in question had to be pushing 100 years old. Though we fae and elvish didn’t show our years quite the same as our human counterparts, the gap was still a bit astounding. “What would the two of them possibly have in common?” I questioned.

Both the queen’s heavily lined eyebrows raised and she paused mid-chew to look me over. “What does it matter?” she asked.

“Cedrych should be happy,” I insisted.

“Who’s to say he won’t be? Tell me, what do the two of you have in common?”

“Quite a bit,” I informed her. Aside from our extremely compatible sexual practices. “He has a mind for battle strategies and soldiering. He’s expressed interest in our industry, weapon-making, in particular. He has ideas on how to improve our trade agreements.”

“Sounds like you’re preparing to mount an attack, Lord Vasil.”

Part of the fae and elvish being such close allies also included an immense amount of distrust on both sides. It had been this way for as long as I remembered and according to historical text, was something of a tradition between our realms.

“Hardly, Your Majesty, but I’ve only had a few months with the prince. My work is unfinished. Surely you could extend this betrothal.”

“I’m afraid not, Lord Vasil. The Duke is expecting a winter wedding while the bees are in hibernation.”

“What about what Cedrych wants?” I asked again.

“What about it?”

“I’m confident that if you asked him, he’d prefer to stay here with me.”

“Then I won’t ask him,” she said and her utter lack of consideration for his will or consent landed precisely wrong. Seeing my reaction, she said, “This is a royal match, Lord Vasil, not some peasant love affair.”

“I am a royal match, Your Majesty,” I practically shouted.

“A temporary one,” she retorted.

“Cedrych will not be going anywhere. I forbid it.” I said it with the force of my whole being. My fingertips tingled with magic, an instinctual response to feeling threatened. My words lacked both caution and restraint, but I did not regret it.

“Excuse me?”

There was nothing to do but double-down, since the queen didn’t respond to subtlety. “He is my betrothed. He belongs here with me in elvish lands,” I asserted. “I will not let him go.”

The queen sat up a bit straighter, pushed aside the plate of delicacies, and eyed me with cunning. For all the things said about her, Queen Gwyneth was not foolish. “You do realize that holding a fae prince captive is considered an act of war,” she said.

“He’s not a captive if it’s his choosing,” I argued.

“I am your sovereign, Lord Vasil.”

“No, Your Majesty, you are not.” I’d never challenged her authority so blatantly before, but I wasn’t going to let her take advantage of my relative youth to push an agenda that I would not tolerate, not for myself and not for my people.

“The elvish territories are independent of any foreign realm, entrusted to the charge of the Vasil Clan,” I succinctly reminded her.

“As stated in the Treaty of the Realms.”

She stared at me coldly. I would have never guessed that this would be the incendiary event to reignite the fae and elvish feud.

I didn’t wish to go to war with the fae queen, but I would not capitulate to her demands either.

I would fight for Cedrych as I would for any of my subjects, for he was mine.

“These were not the terms of our agreement, Lord Vasil,” she said.

I nodded, conceding to that point at least. “You’re right, Your Majesty. I’d like to invite you to my fortress so that we might renegotiate the terms. I’m confident that some compromise can be met.”

At that her affronted expression turned sly. She had me right where she wanted me. Had she planned this from the beginning, tempting me with her second-born son to see what concessions she might be able to squeeze out of me? If that was her aim, then she was far more clever than I’d ever imagined.

“Very well, Lord Vasil. I shall prepare my retinue and plan to arrive before the next full moon. I look forward to this renegotiation.”

I nodded and gave the usual sign off of pleasantries before ending the summons to find my hands shaking and my own haggard face staring back at me.

I was too young to feel this old. Surely bearing the weight of a kingdom on my solitary shoulders had aged me.

I sat there in a sort of gloomy despair until I felt the weight of Cedrych’s large hands on my shoulders.

“Everything all right, my lord?” he asked with concern. I sighed and laid my hand atop of his.

“I spoke with your mother,” I said.

“Ah,” he said as if no further explanation was needed. He circled where I was sitting and gingerly knelt in the space between my thighs. “And what did she say?” he asked, smoothing out the line that appeared in the center of my forehead whenever I was upset.

“She’s skeptical of my ability to protect you.”

His large hand curled into a fist. “That’s hogwash, my lord. You’ve done everything in your power to protect me. It’s my fault I put myself in danger.”

I dragged one hand through his gilded curls, lest his ire detract from the larger problem. “She has found you a suitor, Cedrych. Duke Holcomb of the Honey Guild.”

Cedrych made a face, an adorably indignant face. “Duke Holcomb? He’s ancient. Older than the hives themselves.”

I nodded, emboldened by his reaction. “It is not a suitable match.”

“Not suitable at all,” he agreed.

“And inconvenient,” I added.

“Terribly inconvenient,” he insisted with passion. “I’ve only just begun to understand how trade works here in the elvish territories, and I’m only halfway through my volumes on the Isle of Wyn’s history.”

“And I would hate for it to interrupt your training,” I said, a vast understatement.

“As would I. I do not wish to leave, my lord.” The look in his blue eyes was determined and a tad rebellious. Cedrych’s indomitable will was better channeled than confronted head-on. Surely his mother must know that?

“Nor do I wish for you to go,” I said.

“Can you… do something about it?” he asked, looking hopeful.

“I intend to try. Your mother’s planning a visit before the next full moon to discuss it, and I plan to prepare my most compelling argument for your continued tutelage.”

Cedrych nodded, his open expression turning sly, not unlike his mother’s. “Tutelage, my lord? Is that what we’re calling it?”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Yes, you brat, because that’s exactly what it is.”

“There is something I’d like to practice, my lord, as part of my ongoing tutelage.”

I shot him a wary look. “What’s that, Your Highness?”

Cedrych reached for the placket of my pants, trapping me like a fly in honey with his hedonistic gaze. “I think you know,” he said in a raspy, wanting voice.

Well, who was I to deny a royal fae prince his practice?

“You haven’t made many improvements since I was last here, have you, cousin? Still the same drab and dreary ambiance as before. You’d think with all the time you have on your hands, and with your coffers surely overflowing, you might invest in some redecorating, a bit of a spruce up, hmmm?”

We were seated in my receiving parlor, seldom used. More intimate than the dining hall, less personal than my study. Cedrych was training with the guard, a good thing because I didn’t want Sinclair’s dubious attention on my betrothed.

“Welcome, cousin, I appreciate you making the trip over here,” I said in a conciliatory gesture.

“Yes, well, Cloud needed the workout and my guard of honor appreciates a good, hard ride, don’t you Sir Grantham?”

The man’s cheeks turned pink at Sinclair’s innuendo, though it was hard to tell if it was accidental or intended due to the quixotic nature of my cousin.

“Yes, m’lord,” Grantham said, focusing his gaze on some empty corner of the room.

“You may sit, Sir Grantham.” I motioned to the third chair I’d set out for the occasion, now empty.

“Prefer to stand, m’lord,” he answered with a respectful dip of his head.

“My guard of honor is always on the lookout for danger, cousin. A more loyal knight one could not find, isn’t that right, Sir Grantham?” Sinclair said, somewhat tauntingly.

“Aye, m’lord,” the over-large man responded, still avoiding eye contact with his liege. My cousin smirked privately at his guard’s modest response, as if amused by his discomfort, then turned his shrewd attention back to me.

“So where is the hellion, cousin? Your pretty blue-eyed fae prince with a penchant for danger? I’d hoped to make his acquaintance.”

“He’s training,” I said briefly.

“Training for what?” Sinclair asked.

“Training with the royal guard,” I answered.

“Ah yes, I was lucky to witness that act of valor at the tournament. Lucky for you he was there or the outcome may have been altogether different. Tell me, did you punish him for that bit of disobedience?”

Sinclair always had a knack for knowing too much, and unlike me, he put it right out there as if flaunting his insider information. I still couldn’t determine if he had spies in my kingdom or if he was merely that intuitive, and the fact that I didn’t know infuriated me.

“I believe you came here to speak of my parents’ murder, Sinclair, not of my betrothed.”

“But can’t we do both? It’s been sooo long since we’ve had a nice little chat. And I am fascinated by your choice in consorts, Mercier. I feel like I’m learning so much about you according to your preference in bedmates.”

“My relationship with Prince Cedrych will not be the topic of our conversation, and any conclusions you draw are merely your own speculations,” I said, my temper rising.

“So right you are, dear cousin, and yet the speculating is half the fun. Well then, I do appreciate the refreshments you’ve laid out for me, if not the discourse itself.

” He took a long pull from his wine glass, already sampled by his own royal taster, a vampyre who could determine impurities in the blood.

We all had to be wary of poisonings. “Tell me, is this exquisite sample from your fae prince?”