Page 2

Chapter Two

Valen

I catch Stella as she collapses, her body soft and warm as I cradle her limp form against my bare chest. Her skin is a deep, rich brown, smooth and radiant even in her unconscious state, her delicate features framed by an untamed halo of dark curls.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Marek says, striding to where our discarded shirts lie on the courtyard’s stone bench. He snatches his, and his sharp eyes dart back to Stella as if she’s a puzzle he’s already trying to solve.

My hungry gaze trails after him, savoring the way his muscles shift and flex beneath his dusky brown skin as he moves. Each ripple of strength is a silent reminder of the hours we’ve spent together—training, fighting, and…other things. The clanging of our blades, the adrenaline of sparring, the reason behind our impromptu session—it all fades to the background as my thoughts drift toward far more enticing pursuits. I imagine new ways to strip that carefully guarded control from him, to make him beg for release in my bedchamber.

Marek is many things to me. One could say he is all things to me. He began as my best friend, became my foster brother, then my sparring partner, eventually earning his title as captain of my personal guard, and, for the past seven years, my lover. I cannot remember a time when he didn’t occupy some corner of my heart. Despite the fact that he is my subordinate, my captain, and my submissive, Marek Drayk owns me, heart and soul.

Which is why the earlier conversation with my parents made my blood boil. Marek, ever the attentive one, spotted the frustration on my face and dragged me into a grueling sparring session to burn off the anger. And, I suspect, to redirect my focus to him. It worked. It always does.

He pulls his shirt on, and the disappointment that flickers across my face must be obvious, because he arches a brow at me, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. Without the distraction of his bare skin, I’m reminded of the woman in my arms and the words Marek just spoke. “What is it you find convenient, Drayk?”

My grip tightens slightly on Stella, her limp form pressed against me as I carry her toward the bench. There’s something about her that I can’t quite put into words. Wild beauty and mystery aside, she feels like more than just a passing disruption.

“Her fainting,” Marek says, tossing my blue tunic over my shoulder before holding out his arms to take Stella. “Now she won’t cause a scene on the way to the dungeon.”

I start to transfer her but pull back when his words register. “She’s not a criminal, for gods’ sakes. She’s an otherworlder. We should take her to my parents and offer her hospitality, not imprison the poor girl.”

He rolls his eyes, a gesture I rarely allow to go unpunished. “The tales of people appearing from other realms are just that—tales. Myths. She’s either a villager who somehow bypassed the palace gates or—and this would be my bet—she’s a spy from another kingdom. Possibly an assassin.”

A chuckle bubbles up my throat, but I choke it back before it can escape. I know Marek’s suspicion is born of his duty to protect me, both as my personal guard and my lover. But he knows as well as I do that this woman is no assassin. The idea is laughable. And if she is a spy, she’s a dreadful one, given her conspicuous and utterly graceless, ill-timed fall from a tree and the clothing that sets her apart from anyone else in Towerfall. She could never go unnoticed in that strange, bright fabric with the cut unlike any I’ve seen before. However, instead of pointing out the obvious, I take a different approach.

“To clarify,” I say, shifting Stella slightly in my arms as I look at him, “your plan is to keep her sequestered until we can determine who she is and why she’s here?”

“That is my plan, yes.” He straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin just enough to remind me that although he may bow to me as his prince and his lover, when it comes to my protection, he’s the one in charge.

“Fair enough then. Let’s go.” I turn with Stella in my arms and stride in the opposite direction of the palace, heading toward the archway that leads from the courtyard to the gardens and the property beyond.

I don’t have to look back to know that Marek is frowning at me. True to form, he catches up within seconds, falling into step beside me.

“Valen,” he says, his tone laced with irritation, “this is not the way to the dungeon. Where are you going?”

“I’m abiding by your plan,” I say, keeping my stride steady. “We’ll sequester her in your cottage until we know her origin and purpose.”

Marek halts midstep, then quickly resumes walking, his glare burning into the side of my face. “That was not my plan, and you know it,” he grumbles.

I glance over at him, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Sure it is. I simply modified it.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, we arrive at Marek’s cottage, a striking structure nestled within the palace grounds. The building is constructed of smooth gray stone with veins of silver that glint in the sunlight. Stained-glass windows in rich shades of purple and amethyst gleam from their frames, casting fragmented patterns of light and shadow onto the cobbled path as we approach.

Inside, the air carries the faint scents of pine and wood polish. Silver accents gleam from the edges of furniture, and deep purple fabrics draped over armchairs and stitched into the cushions of the couch in his study soften the space.

I lay Stella on the couch. Marek follows me, moving silently to the glass-paned double doors and securing the locks from the outside.

I cross the hall to the sitting room and drop my tunic on the couch on my way to the sideboard table holding crystal decanters filled with an array of spirits. I reach for my preferred honey whiskey and pour a generous amount in a glass.

“I need a drink,” I say, the golden liquid catching the light as I swirl it in the crystal. “Would you like one, love?”

Marek shakes his head, his jaw tight as he leans against the doorframe. “No, thank you. I won’t risk an addled mind while harboring a potentially dangerous prisoner. Someone needs to be alert.”

A low laugh escapes me as I take a slow sip, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through my chest. “Your vigilance is admirable as always, love, but I think you’re overestimating the danger she poses.”

His gaze hardens. “And I think you’re underestimating it. She could be a damned sorceress, for all you know, and you’re acting as if she’s an ally.”

“Perhaps she will be,” I say, setting the glass down and turning to face him fully. “In fact, I believe she might be the solution to a very pressing problem.”

Marek frowns, suspicion etching lines. “And what problem would that be?”

I cross the room, the wheels in my mind already turning, the spark of an idea flaring brighter with each step. Stopping just short of where he’s standing, I rest a hand lightly on his chest. “The problem my parents saddled me with this morning when they informed me I have two weeks to find a woman to marry.”

“That was the issue?” His nostrils flare, and he pushes off the doorframe, towering over me despite our similar heights. “They’re demanding you marry? Already?”

“That’s why I was so furious earlier.” A hint of the anger burns beneath my skin, and I take a deep breath. “They caught me off guard, Marek. It wasn’t just the demand to marry—it was the way they framed it, as if I were some child needing to be scolded and forced into line.”

His jaw tightens, and his hands flex into fists. “Not just marry then. They expect you to breed heirs. To ensure the line.”

“Exactly. All that tedious business,” I reply with a dismissive wave. “You know I have no desire for anyone but you. But if I don’t comply, my parents will summon every eligible woman within the kingdom and parade them before me like elaborately wrapped gifts.”

I shouldn’t be so resentful. My parents have allowed me more freedom than most crown princes are afforded. They love Marek like a son and have supported our relationship from the start. It’s why they gave me the role of our kingdom’s emissary—so Marek and I would have time to be together before my duty came calling. I thought I was ready for this moment, prepared for the inevitability of my royal responsibilities.

But I’m not. Not in the fucking least.

“We knew this time would come.” Marek’s lips press into a thin line. “You can’t ignore your duty, Valen.”

“I’m not planning to.” My grin sharpens as I gesture toward the locked study doors. “That’s where she comes in.”

Marek’s frown deepens, skepticism radiating from every tense line of his body. “What are you suggesting?”

“Stella and I will enter into a marriage of convenience,” I say, my tone matter-of-fact, as though the plan is already a foregone conclusion, because it is…basically. “It will buy us the time we need.”

Marek crosses his arms. “Time for what?”

“For my younger brother to come of age and take on the burden of producing heirs,” I explain, the plan forming in my mind with razor-sharp clarity. “Lance has always been more inclined toward familial duty anyway. When Stella and I are married, I’ll tell my parents I intend to continue my duties as emissary—traveling with my bride, of course—until she’s with child. Once we’re out of the Kingdom of Swords, she can go her own way. It’ll be our little secret. And in a few years, when Lance is old enough, I’ll manufacture a tragic accident for my ‘beloved’ and remain in mourning indefinitely.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You pronounced ‘brilliant’ wrong, my love,” I say with a wink.

Marek doesn’t take the bait. He shakes his head, his frustration palpable. “And you think this woman, this otherworlder, this complete stranger will agree to such a scheme?”

“The beauty of it is that she doesn’t have much of a choice, does she?” I shrug. “She’s utterly alone and entirely at our mercy.”

“This is reckless,” he snaps. “Even if she poses no threat, you’re assuming she’ll go along with this madness. And what happens if she refuses? Or worse, exposes us for attempting it?”

“If she wants safety, if she wants security, she’ll do exactly as she’s told.”

Even as I say it, a pang of guilt twists in my chest. I know I’m being an ass. But fuck it, I’m desperate. This isn’t how I want to lead or who I want to be, but my options are dwindling, and the stakes are higher than I’ve ever faced. If I waver, if I lose my grip now, everything I’ve fought for—everything Marek and I have built—could slip through my fingers.

I swallow hard. Straightening my spine and doubling down. “Are you questioning my judgment, Drayk?”

“Damn right I am,” he growls, his dark eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and something far more primal that has my cock already at half-mast. “You’re gambling with our lives. With your throne .”

Tension crackles between us, and I let it build. My heart pounds in my chest, but I keep my expression composed, even as his dark gaze stirs something hot and possessive deep inside me.

“Kneel,” I command.

He freezes, his breath hitching as the weight of the order settles over him. The defiance in his eyes flickers, warring with his desire to obey. His jaw tightens, and the air thickens with the silence that stretches between us.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Marek,” I warn, the deliberate use of his given name laced with an authority that leaves no room for disobedience.

His shoulders tense, and frustration vibrates through every inch of his body. For a moment, I think he might resist outright, but he doesn’t.

He never does.

He exhales sharply and sinks to his knees before me. He clasps his hands behind his back and affixes his gaze to the floor. The sight sends a rush of satisfaction and desire roaring through me, my erection hard as steel and throbbing. I step closer, and my hand moves almost instinctively. I grip his chin possessively, my fingers firm as I tilt his face upward. His dark eyes meet mine, burning with an intensity that makes my cock throb against the confines of my breeches.

“I think it’s time you’re reminded which of us is truly in charge here,” I murmur. My thumb drags across his full lower lip, savoring the way his breath stutters under my touch. “Now be a good boy, and take out my cock.”