Page 7 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

“Is your vanadium rod diminished every time you use it?” I asked, wishing to know more about his powers. We fae had the gift of flight, but any sort of sorcery was rare among us.

“I can pull elements from whatever metals are available, but I cannot create something from nothing, which is why I always carry this rod with me. And why I was so displeased with you when you stole it from me.”

Hot shame rose within me at the memory of my first and only spanking by the lord.

I was twelve years old at the time, though he’d made me feel much younger.

The experience had been branded in my mind with a sort of before and after significance.

For many moons after that incident, whenever I encountered the first stirrings of sexual arousal, my thoughts would inevitably wander back to that particular punishment.

I wasn’t sure what it had meant then, nor what it meant now, only that it had been a defining moment in my sexual awakening.

“You humiliated me,” I said, for that aspect remained sharp in my psyche and ever-tender, like a thorn prick.

“Yes,” he murmured as if recalling a fond memory. His hands moved to encircle my chest in a possessive embrace, one hand reaching up to stroke the column of my throat. I relaxed against him. Was that also a result of the bite?

“Was that your intention?” I asked.

“Not at first, but I didn’t mind it.”

I took a deep breath, wanting to know more but not daring to ask. “I was an ugly crier,” I admitted, recalling that there was both snot and drool involved, which only heightened my shame.

“Not at all. Your eyes shined like stained glass windows and your lashes were darkened by your tears, red-faced with righteous indignation. Even as a boy, you’ve always had a beautiful pout.”

I was struck silent by his perfect recollection, still ruminating on the word “beautiful” when he said, somewhat off-handedly, “Are you still feeling sick?”

“No. It’s better now.”

“Good. Would you like to know the lore surrounding my cliffs?”

The Cysgodion Cliffs were known for breaking both ships and sailors with their treacherous outcroppings and razorlike switchbacks.

They were only navigable by moonlight, which was why we’d had to wait until dusk before setting sail.

We were close enough that I could make out the pearly white quartz striated through the pale rock like the way a cut heals into a scar.

When the Goddess Imogen created the Arcane Isles, we were all one kind–even the humans were once our kin–all children of the Goddess Divine. But conflict and petty jealousies divided us. The fae and elvish have a particularly complicated relationship, involving both blood ties and blood feuds.

“The Goddess Imogen split the big island in two due to a bloody civil war,” I said, for it was what all of our templar priests and priestesses taught us.

“She created the Lunar Straits to separate both sides and punish them until a compromise could be met, but the people remained divided. The fae had access to the fruits and nectars of the valley, so they retained their gift of flight. The elvish lost their wings but kept their sorcery due to their abundant elemental resources and access to the eternal flame.”

“That is the fae version of the story, yes,” he said.

“What’s the elvish version?” I hadn’t realized there was one.

“Well, in the midst of the civil war, there were two lovers from opposing families who were both vying for the throne. The lovers were discovered and fled their families in fright, but they were pursued to the edge of the highlands, hunted down like dogs. Goddess Imogen, sympathetic to their plight, sent an earthquake to break the island in two and ensure their escape. The cliffs were formed to deter anyone from passing through the Lunar Straits to pursue them, and their union brought forth both the elvish and the vampyre lines.”

“The vampyre too?” I asked, for their kind was a mystery to me.

“The vampyre are said to have descended from a lost tribe of elvish who settled in the Celestial Gorge where sunlight was scarce. They had to survive on the flesh and blood of animals that they hunted and eventually kept as livestock, and they evolved to feed on them exclusively.”

“Only animals?” I asked, for that was not what we were told.

“Their feeding rituals are somewhat private,” he said evasively.

“Are yours?” I asked.

“I do not need blood to survive, human or animal. It’s more like an aged wine for me, to be savored on very special occasions.

” His hand drifted to massage the bite mark he’d given me, a vampyric claim.

The images that flooded my mind were detailed and illicit.

The idea of being fed upon by Lord Vasil had my cock hardening in my trousers and my balls tingling to an uncomfortable degree.

Chasing after it was jealousy, that he might do the same to someone else.

“I don’t want you feeding on others while I’m with you either,” I said.

He chuckled. “You are a possessive one, Prince Cedrych.”

“I don’t share my bedmates, and I will not be made to look like a fool,” I maintained indignantly.

“As you wish, Your Highness.” His flippancy made me wonder if he was only placating me, until he said, “Does that mean you’ll allow me to taste you from time to time?”

I swallowed, temporarily blinded by lust. I secretly longed for the lord’s touch–hands, teeth, the imposing length that brushed insistently against my backside–but I bit out with reticence, “Perhaps.”

“Then I look forward to it,” he said softly.

I cleared my throat but didn’t shift from his possessive embrace.

I needed to switch topics, lest I invite him to devour me right then in front of his guard and crew.

“The vampyre do not come to court, except you of course. More often they are featured in bedtime stories meant to scare us.” I felt foolish for having such a prejudice, but we’d been taught to fear the vampyre from a young age.

The elvish were not to be trusted, the vampyre were out for fae blood, and the shifters were nothing more than wild dogs.

We fae must stick together at all costs. That was the prevailing rhetoric.

“The vampyre are an elusive people, but they’re not so different from the rest. I used to summer in the gorge with my Aunt Catrin and Cousin Sinclair and the rest of the Kazimir clan before my parents and mentor were murdered.”

“You don’t visit your cousin anymore?” I asked.

“No,” he said with such coldness that I did not pursue it.

“There are not many who would challenge your authority, are there, Lord Vasil?”

“None who are successful. Do you intend to change that, Your Highness?” His tone was teasing as a pleasant warmth unfurled inside me.

“Seems inevitable that I would try.”

“Something else to anticipate.” His nose brushed against my cheek and then my neck, inhaling sharply as if scenting me.

“M’lord,” the captain called, interrupting our… whatever it was. Vasil glanced up, the fog clearing from his eyes as he directed his attention to the ship’s captain. The man touched his cap and said, “Pardon me, m’lord. We’re entering the cliffs.”

“Stay here where I can see you,” Vasil said to me, then joined the captain at the helm to help navigate the ship through a series of sharp turns.

Despite the choppy waters and the heavy fog, we passed by hazardous rock faces with ease and entered into a secluded harbor I recognized as the one reserved for Lord Vasil and his royal guests.

I surmised from the crew’s flawless execution that whether it be his archers, his sorcerers, or his sailors, the lord employed only the best. Which begged the question, why would he settle for someone like me, the useless spare without lands or even a proper title to his name?

But the shipping routes were a decent-enough prize, and besides, our betrothal was only temporary.

I should count my blessings that my mother hadn’t shipped me off to some remote military outpost in the Northern Realm or married me off to some cantankerous, ages-old duke.

I resolved then to learn as much from Lord Vasil as I could during my stay.

I would curb my obstinate tendencies and see what sort of friendship might develop between us, now that we were both men.

At the very least we could be each other’s confidants and companions during our time together.

“Would you like me to remove these?” Vasil asked once we’d disembarked and were on solid ground again. He motioned to my wrists where his cuffs remained. I’d grown accustomed to having them there, as I’d grown attached to the weight of his ring on my finger and the burn of his bite on my neck.

“They can stay for now,” I remarked.

He nodded “As you wish, Your Highness.”

I tried to decipher his expression, but his face was an inscrutable mask, giving nothing away.