A Royal Rebellion (10 page)

“I love you too, Edward.”

Percy cuddled into Edward, pressing his face to Edward’s neck, breathing him in, Edward’s face to his hair. They stood like that, their child moving in small leaps between them.

“Damn them all,” Edward said, exasperated more than angry. His lover’s anger was washing away, and Percy kissed his neck, happy to see him leaving it behind.

Edward tipped his head back, finger on his chin. Percy smiled, and Edward kissed him, a sweet press of lips. Percy leaned into him, wanting more, but the world was waiting.

Edward pulled back, and led him to the open door of the SUV. Percy clambered in, sitting in the front seat, while Edward got back in and closed the door. Percy gave Reynard a smile, curling up on the cushion, waiting for Edward to decide what they were going to do.

Reynard watched Edward. The captain gave nothing away, expression closed off, but Percy could see a glimmer of something in his dark blue eyes. Worry, perhaps. This was the biggest emotional outburst from Edward that either of them had seen, and Reynard must be at something of a loss.

Edward looked at Reynard in the rearview mirror. “Where is my brother?”

“I can make a very good guess, my prince,” Reynard offered without hesitation.

“Tell me,” Edward said, simple, to the point.

“Lord Estiary’s estate.”

***

Reynard

There was very little doubt that Prince Edward thought him insane. The glare the prince gave him was vicious, but Abe held his ground. There was no doubt in his mind that Mason was nearby. He was uploading videos to the internet, each one a damning disclaimer of the Cassian Dynasty, and the general trail Mason was leaving behind for the guards to follow was within driving distance.

“Lord Estiary owns the internet relays, the cell tower, the electrical hub and the towers used for satellite communications in this part of the country. Everything sent and received electronically in a hundred mile radius goes through Estiary’s estate, my prince. Because of all of the equipment, Estiary has military level firewalls and hardware with software it would take the Crown a year just to break. The man may be a deviant,” Abe said, meaning Estiary’s fondness for owning pleasure slaves, “But he is a rich son of a bitch who’d delight in keeping King Henry at arm’s length. If Mason is going to be anywhere, he’ll be there.”

“You know my brother that well?” Edward asked, dark eyes intent.

“I do,” Reynard replied, holding his prince’s gaze, trying to impart just how sure he was.

“Do you believe Estiary is helping him?”

“I say it’s a good chance. Lucius hates the king. Mason is obviously trying to burn down the royal house. Get me close enough, I can reconnoiter, see if Mason is there, that way we don’t risk Estiary seeing Percy before we know whose side he’s on.”

“Would he….is he dangerous?” Percy asked, pretty blue eyes wide, curled up like a kitten on the seat. Abe resisted the urge to pull him in for a hug, Edward watching him.

Abe looked at Edward, waiting for him to tell Percy no, that Estiary wouldn’t want him the second he laid eyes on the perfection that was Perseus, royal consort. Yet Edward made it a point to never lie to Percy, and this time was no exception. His thoughts mirrored the prince’s.

“He covets perfection, my love. You would be the sublime representation of it in Estiary’s eyes.”

“Is that bad?” Percy whispered, hugging his knees as best he could around the baby bump that was getting more prevalent with each passing day.

“Your looks are not your fault, nor are the reactions others have or will have to them, Perseus,” Abe said firmly, refusing to let Percy feel he was to blame for anything. “A man’s actions are always his own, even when faced with no options.”

Percy nodded, biting his lip, and he curled up even tighter.

“Up to you, my prince,” Abe told Edward. “We can continue on to the border. It’s still over a thousand miles away. Percy will be safe there, but we still need to actually get to Elysian. Or we can find Mason, and you can ask him what secrets he’s been carrying that would warrant your father destroying his whole life.”

Edward faced front, eyes to the woods. Abe watched his profile, the prince thinking hard. Abe waited, though his heart was screaming at him to pressure Edward into choosing finding Mason. Mason was a formidable fighter, and while Percy would be safer over the border in Elysian, getting there would be problematic. Every day they risked being recognized, and the royal guards would hear of it, especially once it hit the internet. And it would, too. A royal sighting was an almost instant viral hit. Even out here in the wilds of the greenwoods people had cellphones.

It was a miracle from the Saints that they hadn’t been recognized yet.

“Percy?” Edward turned to his mate, tone questing for input. Percy gulped, but he looked Edward in the eye and chose.

“I want to help Mason. We owe him everything.”

Edward nodded. He looked back at Abe, dark eyes bright.

“Tell me where I’m driving.”

***

Reynard

He stood in the shade of a wind-worn pine, eyes trained on the relay station sitting on a knoll about two hundred meters inside Lord Estiary’s estate. It was noon, the winter sun pale, but warmer than it was even a week ago. Spring was coming, still a far off prospect, but coming none the less.

The relay station was huge, three towers rising a hundred feet in the air behind a twenty foot chain link fence capped by razor-wire. Concrete bunkers rested at the feet of the towers, holding the fiber optics, the electrical, satellite and numerous other vital communications systems hardware and wiring for the entire region. Only a fool would think that Lord Estiary wasn’t aware of every single word that was spoken or typed, since every mode of communication came through his property. Abe had a feeling that it was that level of control and access to information that Estiary possessed which both earned him the king’s wrath and protected him from it. Estiary was too dangerous to keep in the capital, and too dangerous to dispose of—so he was banished. Having only met the man in passing in his youth, Abe had no personal opinion of Lord Estiary, other than one of caution.

Abe watched. It was an unmanned station. There should be no activity unless it was scheduled maintenance, and there was a single one lane dirt road weaving through the trees that accessed the station.

So there shouldn’t be a black motorcycle resting on its kickstand just inside the fence, the section cleanly cut and peeled back. The bike was unfamiliar, but the style of its design, and the black helmet hanging from the handles, spoke of a certain personality. Abe felt a spark of hope in his chest.

Away from king and capital, would Mason be willing to let his forced vows fall to the side? They were both out of reach of king and false duty, so maybe there was a chance….that they could be more than stolen moments and clandestine meetings.

Abe knew it was that wish that let the man sneak up on him—his attention taken in by youthful dreams of love and romance. He felt like a fool when the cold snap of a safety being clicked off sounded behind him.

Abe froze, mentally cursing his inattention, and he slowly lifted his hands, palms empty. He turned, making no sudden movements, and met the eyes of the gunman.

“For Saint’s sake, Abe, even Percy would’ve gotten the drop on you,” Mason snarked, one brow raised as he lowered the weapon and holstered it. “Miss me?”

“You bastard,” Abe breathed out, and he took a single step forward.

Mason met him halfway. Arms crushing each other tight, Abe tipped Mason’s chin back and took his mouth.

Relief, joy, love, anger. It was all there between them, but Abe let it go the second Mason opened his mouth and invited Abe inside.

Just the taste of him was enough to strip away the years, the pain, the frustration and anger. Mason was real, he was here. They existed in this tiny pocket of time, untouched by reality.

Mason moaned into his mouth, and Abe tasted him deeper, hands rising to cup his face and tip his head, deepening the kiss. Mason wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned into him, pressing their hips together, legs settling in a tangled weave of limbs. Mason was real, warm, skin smooth and stubbled cheeks felt divine under his palms. Mason was heat and hard muscle and a sexy sweet layer under the brash exterior, and every time Abe kissed him, the armor fell away, revealing the wounded and kind soul underneath. It was as if Mason was incapable of hiding who he really was when they kissed, when they touched, but Abe didn’t care why, he only enjoyed and treasured the change.

The real Mason was someone who rarely saw freedom.

Mason kissed as if he would never get the chance again. Desperate, needy, full of gasped whimpers and pleas for more. Abe gave him everything, hand sliding into his hair, pulling his head back and taking his mouth again. Their kisses were unending, neither stopping, taking small sips of air as they had their first real taste of unfettered passion in decades.

Abe lost track of time. Mason always did that to him. Whether he was twenty-five or forty, Mason absorbed his whole focus the second they touched.

“Oh!”

The startled gasp behind them quickly gave way to giggles. Mason pulled back, giving Abe a look full of heat and promises, and Abe rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, wet from their kisses, before letting Mason go.

Percy stood a few feet away, sweet face full of smiles, blue eyes alive with joy. He giggled again when Mason rolled his eyes at him, and the tiny breeder sprinted forward, rushing the blood prince. Mason caught him, a pleased and surprised look on his face, and he hugged Percy in return.

“Mason! Mason! You’re okay! Oh! But you’re not! I’m sorry, are you hurt? You are hurt! Edward! Mason’s hurt!” Percy’s chatter was fast and ebullient, and the usually shy Percy was overcome with joy and flash pan concern.

“I’ll live, little mouse,” Mason replied, gently easing him back. Now that Abe wasn’t kissing his brains out, he could see the cuts and bruises, the way Mason moved stiffly. His face bore marks from fists and boots, though faded by a few days. From the way he moved, Abe didn’t doubt that his prince was covered in half-healed wounds.

Mason cupped Percy’s face, his eyes so bright, luscious pink lips curved in a shy smile, a blush on his cheeks. Mason put a hand on his stomach, where the baby bump was poorly hidden by his shirt and jacket.

“Are you well?” Mason asked, and Abe could tell that Mason meant both Percy and babe in that question.

“We are,” Edward answered instead, coming out from the trees, gently tugging Percy out of his brother’s arms. “I’ve told you time and again, Mason—stop touching my mate!”

“He’s so adorable Eddie, I can’t resist,” Mason quipped, but whatever he was about to say next was broken off by Edward throwing himself forward.

The brothers held each other. Abe so rarely saw them interact that each time was a surprise. Edward clung to his older brother, and in that clutch of arms Abe could see just how hard Edward was holding on. Always so in control, the capable and dependable prince was reduced to a young man who wanted, who needed, to lean on his big brother.

Mason held Edward as if he would change his mind and pull away, squeezing the younger prince to him. Edward chuckled, and pressed his face to Mason’s shoulder. Abe very politely pretended not to see or hear the few tears that snuck out from princely men, and he went to where little Percy was hovering. Percy was crying, unashamed. The little breeder was one of the most emotionally honest people Abe had ever met, and he recalled Edward’s words to him the other day. Anyone who was bothered by Percy’s tears would quickly find themselves crying for another reason, and it was bound to be a painful one. No one messed with Abe’s friends…his family.

Abe gathered Percy in his arms, and Percy gave him a startled glance, but snuggled in for a hug. Abe let him sniffle and wipe at his tears in peace, no judging. Percy was small, but lean, finely muscled, and he was a joy to hold. Abe held Percy in the shadow of his taller frame, sharing his warmth as the brothers reunited.

Mason was whispering in Edward’s ear, but he was too far away to hear what the elder brother was saying. Edward gave a short, jerky nod, arms hugging Mason all the tighter before falling away. Mason wiped his brother’s cheeks with his thumbs, and Edward kept his back to Abe and Percy, as if embarrassed.

“The palace is going bare for heirs, with both of us out here now,” Edward said, words full of tears, and he coughed, clearing his voice. “Is Malcolm wandering in the wilds too, or is he still following Father?”

“Father has only one heir, and Malcolm knows better than most exactly who that is,” Mason replied, dark eyes on Edward’s face. “He’ll fight for what best interests him, as always.”

Abe tightened up all over. Surely Mason didn’t mean… “Is it time, Mace?” Abe asked quietly, Edward looking back and forth between them.

“Time for what?” Edward demanded.

“Time to tell the truth, and free us all,” Mason said. “But not outside, in a damn squirrel’s parlor. There’s a far warmer and more enjoyable place we can share our fireside tales, and I need to put my feet up. I’ve been tortured you know, and hunted like a dog for days.”