A Royal Rebellion (18 page)

He stopped outside his door, and checked on his mate.

Sex was no longer allowed, as Percy was too uncomfortable. Though Edward didn’t mind. He was too nervous Percy would go into labor without a doctor to assist. Edward had no experience in human birth—much less that of a male breeder. Edward could deliver a horse or a cow without qualm, but humans left him terrified. He had Mason use Estiary’s access to steal everything Heritage had on Percy, and from what he could tell, Percy was ready to give birth any day. Cartwright’s estimation on how long Percy’s gestation period would be was off, it had to be, because no way was Percy that big and still have another month and change to go. Dr. Rosen, the specialist from the capital, had theorized that Percy could have an even shorter time period than that.

“Pacing again, little brother? This is becoming a nightly occurrence,” Mason asked at his shoulder, and Edward jumped. It was the middle of the night, and Mason was in a robe and pajama pants, hair askew. Edward took a deep breath, and took a discreet step back from his brother at the scent of sex and sweat. Not unpleasant, but this was his brother, and that was too weird even for them.

Mason smirked at him as if he knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Yes, I’m pacing again,” Edward said to stave off an offensive remark he could see brewing in his brother’s eyes. “We need a doctor, one that specializes in breeders. Dr. Rosen is in the capital, and we’re eight hundred miles away. I’ve checked, and while we could always use the doctor that delivered Estiary’s babes, he only handled female breeders and I don’t know if he’s trustworthy. One mention from the man about delivering a male breeder’s babe could tip Father off and bring the guards to our doorstep.”

“I agree,” Mason said, who thankfully didn’t offer up any commentary on what else could be bothering Edward. “I could always take Abe and go on a shopping trip.”

“For what? You can’t buy a doctor with that specialty from a grocery store!” Edward hissed at Mason, annoyed at himself. He could confront a king rabid with anger or plot to overthrow the man’s rule, but get he and his brother in the same space and Edward reverted back to being a shy ten year old boy being hassled by his big brother.

“A shopping trip means a kidnapping, my prince,” Reynard offered, coming up behind Mason and grabbing his lover about the waist. Edward reached out and carefully closed his bedroom door, ensuring Percy slept undisturbed. It took his mate so long to get back to sleep these days, if he managed to sleep at all.

“Who the hell would you kidnap?” Edward asked, instantly regretting it. “And how many people have you two kidnapped?”

Mason grinned. “The delightful Dr. Rosen, of course. And just a few.”

“She’s in the capital. And under scrutiny from the palace for corroborating Percy’s pregnancy to the press. Do you really think you can get back to the capital, get her and what equipment she needs, and get back here without being caught or seen?”

“We’ve done far more, in far worse places, with far less than we have now, my prince,” Reynard said, calm and unruffled. Mason grinned maniacally at Edward, and he just shook his head and waved a hand at them.

“If I wasn’t so desperate for a proper doctor to be on hand for Percy I wouldn’t even say yes to this foolishness,” Edward muttered, as Mason began to laugh. “Can you do it fast and proper? Get her, and get back here as fast as you can? We’ve all seen Percy, he’s not going to make the full five months.”

“Wasn’t that number just a guess though?” Reynard said, looking at the door behind which Percy slept on. “Dr. Rosen said it could be four months, or sooner.”

“I’m thinking Percy is in the ‘sooner’ category. His hips have shifted, his back hurts all the time, and the babe is moving. I think he has days left, maybe a week or two at the most.”

“Shopping trip!” Mason cheered quietly, and Edward smacked his chest. Mason swatted back at him, and Edward was glad Reynard pulled his brother back out of range or things were about to disintegrate into a brawl.

“We’ll leave in an hour, my prince,” Reynard said. “Unless you think it’s time to move ahead with all of it, and we can all return to the capital.”

“Too dangerous,” Edward said, shaking his head. “Percy is too close, and I can’t confront my father if I’m thinking about Percy going into labor and I’m not there.”

Reynard nodded. “Then Mason and I will be off. We have cells now, and they’re secure, thanks to our generous host. You will call us if something happens while we are gone, understood?”

“I do, and thank you,” Edward said, truly grateful. “How long?”

“We will be back in four days, my prince.”

Mason started backing away, dragging Reynard with him. Edward could hear them talking as they returned to their room. Mason’s voice was clear before Reynard shut the door.

“Is it kidnapping if the target is willing? Is it just a surprise vacation then?”

Edward laughed, and went back to his sleeping mate, wondering what to tell Percy in the morning when he saw that Reynard and Mason were missing from breakfast.

***

Percy

Percy shifted in the chair, glaring at his stomach. He was no longer wearing clothing, just a voluminous bathrobe that covered him chin to toes and made him look twice the size he actually was.

The baby kicked, and Percy groaned, rubbing the spot his little dancer decided should be bruised today. “Little one, please settle. I can’t get up again so soon to go to the bathroom, I just don’t have it in me,” Percy sighed, and thankfully the babe quieted. He picked up his book, and tried reading again. It was a short history of the Cassian Dynasty, the type of books bought by tourists. He was looking for information on the no faith challenge brought to bear by those of the blood, and what he was finding was unsettling.

A no faith challenge had happened only six times in two thousand years. Five of the six were successful, and power exchanged hands from unworthy monarch to worthy successor with a minimum of fuss. Sure, the previous king or queen either died in the challenge or ended up imprisoned for life, but the transition was relatively painless. Those that went to challenge, at least, two of the no faith challenges had resolved by the sitting monarch willingly relinquishing the crown to their successor. Both those cases were in the instances of the monarch being mentally or physically unsuited for rule. One was mentally damaged from a riding incident, and the other rendered sterile from scarlet fever. Both those cases the monarch stepped down, willingly abdicated, and spent their life in opulent splendor outside the capital at a private residence.

The other challenges resulted in the proxy combatant either dying in the challenge or the monarch themselves dying, or with the monarch losing the match but not their life, and going to prison. It turned out a few in the Dynasty had gone legitimately mad, and were a danger to everyone and themselves.

The last challenge is what worried Percy the most. It was startlingly similar to the situation they were in now. A king two hundred years ago had killed his Queen for a suspected infidelity, and in the days after the murder the sons and daughters, mourning the life of their mother, had brought to the king a no faith challenge. The king, in a rage, had fought his eldest son, the current crown prince in combat. The father killed his heir and son, winning the challenge.

The king then had skipped the two next oldest blood heirs, and made the youngest, a lad of thirteen, into his heir. The boy was spared his father’s revenge due to his age, while the king imprisoned his two other remaining children for life, charged with treason. They died in prison less than ten years after being incarcerated.

Percy tossed the book aside, and pushed up on the arms of the chair, trying to settle his hips better. He was always in pain. Dull aches as his body rapidly changed to support the little one he carried, and while he begrudged his babe nothing, the discomfort of being this pregnant left him fitful and constantly uncomfortable. His hips and back hurt the most, and if he moved after too long sitting still, they popped and creaked, alternating between relief and pain.

The door opened, and Percy looked up hopefully, but it was just Edward and Lord Lucius. Percy slumped, wishing it was Mason and Reynard with the doctor. It was evening on the fourth day since they left, and Percy trusted Reynard and Mason to return, but he wished they would hurry up. He wanted to have this baby, and now. Edward saw his pout and gave him a sympathetic smile, walking to his chair and talking his hand.

“How do you feel, Percy?”

“Fat and sore,” Percy snapped, and instantly felt bad. He looked up at Edward, but his mate merely smiled at him and patted his hand. “I’m sorry, Edward.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s my fault you’re pregnant, after all,” Edward told him, sitting on the coffee table nearby and lifting Percy’s feet to his lap. Percy gave a happy moan as Edward rubbed his feet, soothing the aches.

“It is your fault,” Percy agreed, with a blush sweeping across his cheeks. Edward smiled back at him, his strong hands so firm and in control that Percy wanted him and badly in that moment. Edward’s eyes, always so dark, held a fire when his desire was roused, and the way they traced over his legs, his hips, even the mountain of his stomach told Percy that his mate and master wanted him. “I want to have the baby. I want to…”

Edward chuckled, his hands moving up his ankles to massage his calves. Percy was ready to melt into the armchair. Edward learned forward, and whispered to him, “I know what you want, little one. It’s been too long. You need to be under me, legs spread wide, tight little hole full of cock and cum. I want to hear you panting in desire, your body sucking me deeper, demanding I fill you with my seed. Is that what you want?”

Percy nodded, mouth parting as he breathed faster, eyes locked on Edward. His prince gave him a wicked smile, and whispered, “Perhaps I’ll put you on your hands and knees, and spread your pert little ass apart, so I can see that tight, pink hole clench for me. Wet and hot, and so needy. I’ll open you, get you ready for me, and then I’ll mount you like a stallion does a mare, hard and rough and wild. Does that sound better?”

Percy could only nod, slowly, eyes wide, chest rising and falling rapidly as his whole body went up in flames. Percy whimpered, and his cock twitched, highly interested in the images Edward generated. His hole clenched and grew damp, and Percy was ready to beg Edward to fuck him or kill his mate—he was too pregnant to be this horny. Percy glared at Edward, and his mate chuckled, dark eyes bright with passion, and he leaned back, an innocent expression on his handsome features.

“Such charming domesticity,” Lord Lucius said, observing them from the small table next to the window, the setting sun casting a red glow over the man’s silver hair. Percy realized the older man must have heard his master, and he blushed even harder, face red and burning.

“Anything interesting happening in the capital, Lucius?” Edward called over his shoulder, hands rubbing Percy’s feet again. He relaxed into Edward’s touch, body still humming with arousal but without the edge. “Hopefully no kidnappings to report, no additional manhunts?”

“Not that I can tell, no,” Lord Lucius replied, looking down at a thin tablet on the table, finger gliding over the screen. “Your sisters are still languishing in the country, your brother Malcolm is still at the palace, and your two sisters by marriage are….well, that is interesting.”

“What?” Edward asked, twisting on the coffee table to see Lord Lucius better.

“The Queen-presumptive hasn’t been seen in public since Mason’s escape. Princess Camilla, Mason’s horrible wife, has been seen multiple times, mostly with the king. Disgusting, but then there’s no accounting for taste…. Here it is…” Lord Lucius began to read off the tablet. “Princess Arianna was seen this morning in the windows of the royal nursery, photographed by a paparazzi using long-range lenses. The princess appeared to be several pounds thinner, haggard in appearance, and from the image looks to be severely ill. Theories abound that this potential illness is why she has yet to be seen in public since Prince Mason’s historic exit from the capital.’”

“Edward!” Percy cried out as Edward got to his feet, striding to the table where their host sat. Lord Lucius turned the tablet, and Edward froze at the image there. Even Percy could see it from where he sat.

Arianna was thin, ill-thin, and her hair was lank and dull. The image was distorted through distance and the window pane, but even Percy could tell that all was not well with Princess Arianna.

“Saint’s blood! What has he done to her?” Edward cursed under his breath, rigid with anger.

“Mason said she stayed behind for her children’s sake—that she refused to leave them. If she angered the king, who knows what he’s done to her,” Lord Lucius mused, reaching for his ever-present goblet of wine. “She helped Mason escape, and found out the truth about her children. Such a thing is bound to enrage any woman, even one like her. Perhaps her condition is the result of a confrontation between her and the king.”

“He struck me for defiance, he tried to choke Percy to death, he beat and tortured Mason for days—what has he done to Ari?” Edward backed away from the tablet, and in his eyes Percy could see anger, frustration, even guilt. There were nightmarish possibilities for what a madman could do to a vulnerable woman, and Percy could see each hit home in his master’s heart.

“This is not your fault!” Percy cried, startling Edward into looking at him. “None of this is your fault. I see you thinking it! Stop it!"