A Royal Rebellion (16 page)

“My niece is rather feisty,” Mason whispered, rubbing his big hand over Percy’s belly, chasing the movements as Percy’s baby wandered a little.

“Niece?” Percy said softly, shivering. He was naked from the waist up, his shirt somewhere on the floor across the room.

A blanket came from nowhere, and Percy found himself wrapped up in a soft downy quilt, Reynard tucking him in and Mason pulling him back to his chest.

“Hmm, yes. A girl,” Mason said with conviction, eyes bright. “I’ve always been able to tell. Haven’t been wrong yet. Nearly thirty royal babies in the last decade, and I’ve been right every time.”

Percy gave him an incredulous look, doubting it. It was more likely he snooped and found the sonogram results and then made a ‘guess’.

“Ask Reynard if you doubt me,” Mason said archly, smiling down at him. “And a lot of them were twin sets, and I got those right as well.”

“No,” Percy said, smiling back. “You must have cheated.”

“I promise you, there was no cheating on my part. I have never seen a woman’s personal bits that close, and I refuse to even contemplate that level of investigation.”

Percy giggled, and Mason laughed with him. Some of the tension left his body, and Mason rubbed his belly, relaxing him some more.

“Is it true?” Percy asked, wondering if he should.

“What?”

“What you said before. About your children, about Malcolm’s? Are they really…?”

“My father’s by-blows? Yes, they are his, not ours. I shoot blanks, as the saying goes. And I have only ever slept with one person in my life, and it was most certainly not my witch of a wife.”

Percy’s eyes went to Reynard immediately, who was standing between the rest of the room and the chair where they sat. Reynard looked back at them over his shoulder, and gave Percy a small smile and a nod. Percy blinked, surprised. Mason seemed so….worldly, so rakish. A lifetime of fidelity to a single soul meant that there was more to Mason than Percy thought.

“I get Eddie on the throne, and the first thing he’s doing for his favorite brother is annulling my farce of a marriage,” Mason muttered, and Reynard’s shoulders shook with a silent chuckle.

Percy blinked, confused for a second, and then what Mason said sank in. “You want Edward to take the throne?”

Mason looked down at him, brows raised, and he nodded. “By all rights, it’s Eddie’s throne. He is the only one of us who qualifies under the laws of inheritance for a Cassian Royal.”

“But then…”

“Hhhmmm, that’s true, little kitten,” Mason murmured, making Percy scowl, “Your baby is the future king or queen of Cassia.”

“I don’t want…I didn’t…think…”

“Whether he takes the throne or not, Percy, I am dethroning our father,” Mason said, his conviction so strong Percy could feel it in his bones. “Whether he decides to exchange your freedom for a crown is entirely irrelevant to me. All I want is to destroy King Henry, as he’s made me suffer for my whole life. He needs to be stopped. Murder, conspiracy, violation of inheritance laws, and arguments can be made for incest and reproductive assault, in the case of Arianna and Camilla. Hell, even my mother! For a man so devoted to the legacy of Airric, he’s done nothing but pervert it for the last thirty years,” Mason said, and Percy was captivated. There was a fire in the blood prince that shook him to his core. There, in that moment, Percy saw who Mason was under the armor and the bitter resentment.

If not for the silent disease that corrupted his body, Mason would have made a magnificent king.

“Mason,” Reynard was at Mason’s shoulder, concerned. “Peace, Mason. Just relax with Percy, alright?”

Mason frowned, and sent Reynard a narrow-eyed glare, but he nodded and relaxed. Percy gave Reynard an impressed glance. Mason ignored Edward when he told him to do something, but Reynard got an instant response.

Percy snuggled, determined to ignore the world and find some measure of calm. Mason’s arms came back up and held him securely, and he felt safe. Not as safe as if he were in Edward’s arms, but safe enough.

***

Mason

The way Percy felt in his arms was odd, but pleasant. The little breeder was a light, easy burden to hold, the novelty of the baby bump was enjoyable. Percy didn’t seem to mind, and Mason had never felt such a thing before. The tiny movements under his hands was tentative, almost shy, and then would settle down, as if the little one were napping.

Mason never touched his wife while she was pregnant. Hell, he never touched her, period. Ever. Arianna was a vicious hellion when pregnant, and she never offered, and he liked having hands, so he never tried. His sisters lived with their husbands on their estates, and he rarely saw them. Not that he was all that close to his sisters—they were so much younger than he, and after he learned the truth of their conception and birth, he had always been unable to be around them, the emotions to overwhelming and chaotic.

The children portrayed as his were a different matter. Camilla had them regardless of what Mason wanted. He’d never wanted children, at all, the desire absent in his heart. He was fond of children, he didn’t dislike them, he just never wanted them. In some ways he resented them. Not fair to the younglings, since they were innocent in all this, but all he had to do was see them and feel every ounce of resentment and anger and bitter, burning impotence at his lack of choices.

He was forced to claim his brothers and sisters as his own children, and that was every kind of horrible fucked up lie. Mason had hesitated, for one second before he hit the upload button on his videos—the kids were not going to be spared. They would be protected, and sheltered from the reality of what was happening around them, of that he had no doubt, but the truth about them was out there right now, and King Henry’s lies were being exposed one by one.

Mason looked up from the now sleeping Percy to watch the computer screens over Luke’s desk. Every major news network was on, and several of the bigger online news vendors were up as well.

Mason had hit the button twenty minutes ago. And it was already happening. He had filmed a video, and in it he detailed the entire truth. From his mother coming to Cassia with the illness that eventually took her life, to King Henry’s madness, the fathering of the royal bastards, to the threats used to blackmail Mason into marriage and reluctant fatherhood. He spoke again about Percy, who and why he was important, the pressure Heritage and the Minister was plying to the King, and the fact that Edward, Percy and Reynard were running for their lives. It was all there, including the revelations that out of all of King Henry’s children, only Edward was the one qualified by blood and law to rule.

A video that took him over an hour to film, and with the video he put up the corroborating evidence from the hard drive he’d taken out of the hidden panel in Airric’s throne. Years’ worth of investigating and research and stealing evidence. All of it, everything Mason knew, and it was all out there in the world.

Mason had emailed it to every major news organization in the country, and the world. By morning, every single TV and computer screen would hold the truth.

Mason watched the muted screens. Evening dramas were cut short and interrupted by Breaking News alerts. Websites refreshed and new headlines appeared. One by one, within seconds and minutes of each other, Mason watched as the world received his message. It was out there, in the nether realms of the internet, and once it was released, the truth could never be erased.

He would give it a week or so, let the news be dissected and analyzed, let the palace deny and lie further. Let their father bury himself a hole he couldn’t escape. Then, once it got to a fever pitch, he would use his greatest weapon yet.

Mason looked down at the young breeder in his lap. Percy was asleep, thick lashes curving over smooth cheeks, small hands curled into the blanket. Mason still had a hand on Percy’s belly, and the tiny life danced under his palm. Percy slept through it, bandaged arm held stiffly, the welt and resulting bruising having spread even further. Mason indulged himself in the rage that came up in his core at the sight, and added it to yet another score to be settled.

Percy was slave. In this country, Percy was property. The greatest country in the world built and designed humans to be vessels for blood and pleasure, and be damned the morals twisted to achieve prosperity. The same with his own father, seeking to increase the prosperity of the Line of Airric.

Yet Percy was more than a mentally-neutered slave. He was whole. He was real, and he loved, and was loved in return. He was different, as the babe he carried could attest, but different didn’t mean less.

Mason smiled, and dropped a small kiss in Percy’s silky tresses. Now all he had to do was convince the others, especially Percy, to share with the world just how real they all were.

Love would defeat the king’s insanity in the end. They just had to help it along.

Chapter Ten

Percy

“Watch your hands! Keep them up!” Mason heckled Edward as his prince and the captain circled each other in the empty ballroom. Both were shirtless, sweat dampened skin on display, and intent on beating each other into the stone floor. They had been at this for three weeks, the training, and Percy was ready to either go into labor early just to get them to stop or bury his head in a book until he was ready to give birth.

Percy winced when Reynard landed a vicious blow to Edward’s side, making his prince double over, gasping for air. Reynard paused his attack, concerned, but then Edward came up and tackled his opponent, sending them both to the hard floor in a tangle of limbs. Mason cheered, encouraging the insanity, as Percy watched wide-eyed with near-horror.

Edward had been quiet in the last few weeks. Three weeks since his prince had left with Lord Lucius, dealt with the stable master, and come back to find Percy asleep in Mason’s arms and the whole world going crazy. Percy woke that night in a quiet, dark room, wrapped in Edward’s arms, his prince shaking and clutching him tight. Edward weathered a storm that night. Whether one of conscience or fear, indecision or regret, it mattered not, because the next morning Percy spread his legs for his prince, a man who was sadder, and there were tiny hints of lines beside his eyes, but he was man who was in control and resolute, and took Percy so thoroughly he felt it for days.

At times Percy saw a shuttered glimpse of some pain, a vulnerability that wasn’t there before in his lover’s eyes. Edward asked Mason question after question about the secrets his brother revealed, and how the country was taking the revelations. Edward approached Reynard, and asked him to teach him how to really fight. He claimed what he knew was bar room brawling from his university days, and he needed to know how to actually fight.

Some discussion was given about Percy learning to fight, but when he went green at the suggestion and almost threw up, that thought was quickly dropped. Instead he was lectured on how to fall, how to run, and the best places to hide if the crown came for them. It was only a matter time, Percy knew that, from the way the other men were acting.

Percy flinched as Reynard sent an elbow into Edward’s jaw, and Mason’s hands on his throat fell away. “Percy, hold still. I can’t get this off if you’re moving all the time.”

“Sorry, Mason.”

Mason was trying to pick the lock of the consort collar. It was rubbing him raw, despite the silk and salves. It was to the point where Percy was irrationally aware of the collar, and felt like he was choking, even though it was no tighter than the day Edward first put it on him. He loved the collar, he truly did, but his mind and body were rebelling at the silliest things as his pregnancy advanced, and he was beginning to wish they’d all stop being so damn careful and just cut it off of him.

He must have muttered that last thought aloud because Mason gave him a stern look and a frown. “Bolt cutters won’t work on the coils, Perce. The metal is too strong, and if it did manage to cut the coils, they would ricochet everywhere, and you’d be sliced to ribbons.”

“But….” Percy whined. For the first time in his life, he was whining. Like a baby.

Percy sniffled, and Mason froze, eyes wide, hands stilled just before they returned to the collar’s lock. Percy valiantly tried to withhold his tears, and when Mason stared at him like he was going to attack him Percy wailed.

“Why…” he sobbed, “Am I…crying?” Tears ran down his face, and Percy wiped furiously at his cheeks, eyes refusing to stop spilling.

He was tired and he wanted the damn collar off and he just wanted….he was fat! Percy looked down at his belly, which in the last week decided it wasn’t big enough and had to get much bigger. Five months!!! Where were his five months to grow accustomed to being pregnant? Just then the baby moved, and Percy cried harder, since now he had to pee, and badly.

Percy got up, and walked away from the table at which they had been sitting watching the others spar. He sniffled, and when his ankles complained at the short jaunt down the hall to a restroom, Percy cried some more. He was so tired of crying!!!

He ended up sitting in a stall in the opulently adorned space, an overtly expensive square of toilet paper his tissue. He tried to get comfortable, but his hips ached, and his back ached, and he wanted nothing more than to have everything just stop.

A soft knock came on the stall door, and Percy could see Edward’s boots under the door. He sniffled, and got another piece of tissue, wiping his nose. “Yes?”