A Royal Rebellion (3 page)

His penchant for surviving was both gift and curse, ever since that fateful day he loitered at his dying mother’s bedside and learned a truth that could shatter the greatest royal dynasty to ever rule on this world.

Those he loved were already past the king’s reach. His silence could no longer be guaranteed by the threat to their lives. His sisters, those spoiled and hollow creatures sold in marriage to wealthy men, were beyond harm at their husbands’ sides. Edward was safe, Malcolm was a lost cause, and the other …

King Henry could no longer force Mason’s cooperation by threatening the life of the man he loved.

Abe Reynard was in the wind, and far more dangerous than the young innocent he once was, vulnerable to a king’s wrath. Now all Mason had to do was set free the truth, even if that meant he died trying.

***

He was sleeping. Or trying. Pain made it hard to relax. If not for the lateness of the hour he wouldn’t dare attempt to sleep. His father was too busy being entertained by his ministers and the Court to come and beat him at this hour, so he was guaranteed some peace until morning.

“Mason?”

He frowned at the harsh whisper, almost too loud to be counted as such, as if the speaker had little experience with such foolish things. Only one person he knew of who was so atrocious at being quiet. And who liked to wander at midnight to places she had no business being, even for the queen-in-waiting.

“Come to gloat at my downfall, Arianna?” he called to the door, the oak panel solid but for a small hole filled with iron bars near the top. He rolled over on the thin pallet that counted as a bed, and squinted through the shadows. The light in the hall was bright enough for him to see the top of his sister-in-law’s head, her typically tamed curls fuzzy and piled high, bouncing as she tried to see through the window in the door.

He laughed, the motion hurting his ribs and shoulders, but it felt good to make a sound that wasn’t wholly pain-filled. If only the rest of the world could see the future Queen of Cassia as she was now, bored and alone at night, dressed in her nightgown and wandering through the palace like a recalcitrant preteen anxious to avoid going to bed.

“Oomph! Oh, bloody hell, why are these blasted chairs so damn heavy?” Mason heard her swear through the door, and he thought it likely that the guard was either dead, knocked unconscious, or absent to miss the racket Arianna was making in the hall. A clang, then the door shuddered, and suddenly Ari’s makeup smudged and tired face appeared in the window.

“Oh! So it’s true then, King Henry has finally done it. He always said he was going to lock you up and throw away the key one of these days, but I never thought I’d actually see him do it,” she quipped, the light bright enough for him to see her white smile, her hands clutching the bars.

“Such a stellar wit for so exalted a personage,” Mason growled, painfully sitting up. He blinked against the light that came through from the hall, shielding his eyes until he adjusted. He heard Ari gasp, and he was about to laugh, expecting her to fall on her butt in the hallway, but all he got was the sound of sniffling.

“Are you crying?” he asked, wary even though they were separated by the door. Crying females always made him want to run away. There wasn’t much that scared him, but a female and tears did it every time. And he couldn’t escape right now, he was locked up in a medieval cell.

He was again thankful that his psychotic bitch of a wife wasn’t the type to cry, staying disturbingly dry-eyed even when faced with the most devastating of news. Nothing made that woman flinch, and sentimental she was not. For instance, she had yet to come visit him in his comfy prison cell, and he had no doubt she knew he was here. She just didn’t care. She was most likely hanging on his father’s arm, the bitch.

“Why, for Saint’s sake, are you crying?”

And she was. Big tears ran down her cheeks, a hand over her mouth, and she stared at him, eyes tracing over his bare shoulders and chest, obviously seeing the scores across his flesh from fist and scorching hot poker. He’d had worse, truly, but to the relatively sheltered eyes of Princess Arianna, he must be horrendous looking indeed.

“Mason, tell me what is going on! This instant!” she demanded, furiously wiping away her tears, her angry response coming out to play when confronted by unpleasant news. “You’ve been hurt! WHY? King Henry said you were merely in here for a few days as punishment for letting Eddie sneak out, and he’d let you out once you told him where Eddie and his little pet were! What the hell is going on?!”

He could continue to cover for this bastard of a father as he had for the last several years, or should he reveal the truth? It was the spoiled, erratic, and temperamental princess on the other side of the door who’d been misled the most by the King and his machinations, and she had no clue. Perhaps the truth would out, after all. Their family and kingdom were about to shatter, and Mason was so tired of carrying the lies that hid the truth around with him every-damn-day.

The only member of their family right now who was stain-free was Edward, and he was blissfully unaware. His life was about to change, for better or worse, and he felt a twinge of regret. Perhaps Eddie would be better off if he stayed silent. But the dishonor of their father’s actions left them all marred, and those actions drove every decision made by the King since that fateful day the late Queen passed. With Eddie gone and Abe out of the king’s reach, it was now or never.

He stood, pausing until he could trust his feet to remain steady under him, and he slowly made it to the door. He gripped the bars, face mere inches from hers, and he met her confused gaze.

“Shall I tell you a story, dear sister? It is no fairy tale, there are no heroes….” Arianna’s eyes went round, and she nodded, captivated by the intensity in his voice. “It begins with a young princess from the faraway land of Elysian, sent to marry the young crown prince of Cassia, many long years ago. She brought with her a curse, and there was no true love to break it….”

***

Percy

Edward’s arm around his waist was heavy, and his bladder was complaining. Percy squirmed, and wiggled his way out from under his master’s arm, sliding from the bed, bare feet finding the chill floor. He gasped, but dared the rest of the expanse between bed and bathroom, darting in and shutting the door. He flicked on the light, glad that the light in here worked, if nothing else. Even when he lived at Heritage in his windowless cell, his space was clean and the commodities worked reliably. Here in this run down shack Reynard led them to, Percy was afraid one of his toes was going to be gnawed on by a rat or a cockroach.

Percy lost track of how long they’d been on the road. The comfortable car Mason gave them was left in a place Reynard called a “chop shop”, and in return they were given the keys to an older vehicle, something Edward called an SUV. It was big and bulky, and the last row of seats was missing, but Edward filled it with blankets and told him to rest. The hours spent on the road was made bearable by the grocery bag of books Edward gave him one morning, titles Percy had never even heard of before by unknown authors, and he spent a good portion of the trip oblivious to the passage of time. He would look up on occasion, and watch the scenery as Reynard drove.

The area closest to Cassia City was an odd mix of large palatial estates belonging to nobles, interspersed with densely populated towns Edward told him were “micro-cities”, places where the general populace settled on land not owned by the crown or a noble. Once outside the city limits, every spare patch of earth available was snatched up, and commoners were left with the undesirable bits. Percy asked question after question, Edward patiently explaining the history of Cassia as they went further and further away from the City.

Centuries ago, the only people allowed to own land had been the royals and those of noble blood, and the land around Cassia City in all directions for several days’ worth of travel via horseback was claimed, leaving nothing for the commoners. They were allowed to lease and rent land from the nobility and crown, and whole villages and towns were settled, but everything was still owned by a select few. No one owned the roofs over their heads or the land beneath their feet, and if the owners of the land wanted to evict the tenants, they needed no cause or justification.

Percy listened, shocked on some deep level by what Edward was describing to him, and it was only in the last hundred years that things gradually changed. Individual, non-titled citizens were given the right to own land directly, and while the balance of power never shifted away from the upper classes, a strong middle class of merchants, traders, and entrepreneurs grew rapidly. Edward told him that is was at about the same time genetic engineering and manipulation became viable, and technology as a whole expanded by leaps and bounds, that the laws and systems of the Cassian government and culture began to change.

Percy shook his head, clearing out his busy thoughts. He was weary still, but he made himself use the toilet. He checked the floor around the toilet for creep-crawlies before urinating, and he sighed in relief at the lessening of pressure on his bladder.

Percy leaned on the wall in the small bathroom, wondering if he was brave enough to wander down the hall to the tiny kitchen and get himself some water. He would need to go to the bathroom sooner if he drank now, but he was thirsty, and his brain too busy to sleep. He looked back at the bed, and saw his master still sleeping.

Edward had been tense and on edge the last several days. Percy lost track of time, but with each passing day Edward was tenser, warier, and the words exchanged between Reynard and his master were terse and clipped. Neither man lost his temper, nor did they speak to Percy with anything but care and affection, but the stress they were all under was wearing them down. Reynard was coping best, the former captain obviously accustomed to difficulty. Edward, while no stranger to hard work, was still very used to having servants and a staff take care of his needs, and Percy could see the subtle shifts in how Edward reacted to situations. Paying for things directly, having to ration resources and go out in disguise daily left Edward cranky, for lack of a better word.

Percy was well used to owning nothing, and following orders exactly. Living with minimal belongings, eating when only hungry, and having little clothing was of no bother to Percy, and he did his best to keep from being a burden to either Edward or Reynard. All he did was read, sleep, and ask questions about the world around him when Edward and Reynard needed the distraction from each other’s company.

Percy left the bathroom, quietly walking back towards the bed, looking at Edward where he was sprawled on the mattress. Edward must have rolled over on his back while he was in the bathroom, and Edward’s naked body was on display, half in shadow.

Tanned skin, body relatively hairless but for a neatly trimmed patch on his groin, and covered in defined muscles, Edward was a sight to see. Thick, wavy black hair and dark brown eyes paired with chiseled cheeks and a string jaw crafted the ideal image of a prince. Edward was handsome, and charming, and sweet, and he made love to Percy with a fierceness that left him breathless.

Percy let his eyes drift, sweeping down Edward’s chest, over the planes of his stomach to his groin. Percy’s breath hitched, and he licked his lips. He shifted on his feet, and his hole fluttered, clenching slightly before relaxing. Percy moaned, a soft breathy sigh of sound, and he felt a tiny bit of dampening between his ass cheeks. Suddenly he was aroused, his slim cock plumping up and growing, his now-aching hole growing wetter, and his hands trembled with the desire to touch.

He inched closer to the bed, heart tripping, his body wakening in the most delicious way imaginable. Desire always rode him hard, but this time it was coming over him in a spine-tingling rush.

“Edward?” he whispered, reaching out, fingertips trailing across smooth skin and hard muscles. His master’s skin was hot to the touch, or perhaps that was him? He was burning, a deep ache settling in at the base of his spine, his internal muscles clamping and releasing, as if Edward was already buried balls deep inside of him. He put the heel of his hand over the swell in his abdomen, and the firmness there where their child grew only made him moan some more. Just the thought, the touch to confirm his body already succored Edward’s seed was enough to tip him over the edge into arousal-laced madness.

Somehow he ended up on top of Edward, nipping and whimpering. Edward woke with a gasp that quickly gave way to indulgent chuckles, and Percy found himself flipped, on his back and under his master. Percy spread his legs, opening himself wide, and Edward lowered his hips down between them.

“Hello, my love,” Edward murmured, licking at the side of his neck, making Percy groan and squirm, aching and empty. He wanted his master in him, and now. “Do you need something?”

A growing hardness against his hip and the sure, knowledgeable fingers suddenly playing with his wet hole told him Edward knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed.

“Please,” he begged, as Edward merely teased his hole and spread his juices around, slicking his crease. “Please fuck me.”

“You beg so prettily,” Edward husked, kissing him deep and hard, stealing his breath, even as his fingers left and the wide, hard head of his cock nudged at Percy’s eager opening. The natural slick his body produced gave Edward more than enough lubrication, and Percy moaned into Edward’s mouth as he was steadily and mercilessly impaled on long, thick, hot flesh.