Chapter One

Nothing But a Vile, Loudmouthed Ghoul

Crossbody

I hated Vince Burke.

As in the Rolling Rimmer. As in one of my fellow Goliaths. As in the ghoul with the big mouth and no decorum who rankled me like no one else with his mere presence.

He was an uncouth swine. He walked around our place of work in nothing but a towel, he found toilet humour hilarious, he made obscene remarks constantly and waggled that disgusting long tongue in the air.

He acted like he was better than me, when I was prince of the Spring Court. Middle son of Queen Galantha. Heir presumptive to the throne, although that was all a bit up in the air due to my decision to come here and launch my career in professional wrestling.

But I was still fucking royalty.

And Vince “Rolling Rimmer” Burke was nothing but a vile, loudmouthed ghoul.

I hated him.

This was all his fault.

The back of my neck burned as I made my way to my dressing room, making sure to keep my chin up and my head held high.

We had just held the wrestlers’ court, a faux courtroom session that allowed us to self-govern and discuss issues as a group. I usually enjoyed it, because it was a place where we all—and by ‘all’ I really just meant me—got a say in how things were run around here.

However, this time, Corey—our de facto leader, the Tasselled Tussler—had called for court to be held because a few weeks ago, Vince had started ranting and raving and screaming at me during rehearsals. Apparently, it had also been my fault somehow. Apparently, I was part of the problem. Apparently, I was one of the people causing tension in the workplace.

Drivel. It was Vince. It was all Vince.

That hadn’t stopped Corey from chastising me in front of everyone, though. Me.

I made sure to close my dressing room door quietly and politely, when all I wanted to do was slam it. Maybe kick it. Which wasn’t like me. I was always in control of myself. It had been drilled into me since I was able to walk.

But I was still seething. And I was utterly humiliated from being told off by Corey in front of all my co-workers. Had my mother witnessed it, she probably would have disowned me for allowing myself to be spoken to that way by who she considered “common folk.”

She’d almost disowned me for leaving to become a professional wrestler. But I knew that even six years later, she still regarded this as folly—some frivolous thing I was getting out of my system before I returned to Otherworld and resumed my place as prince, second in line to the throne.

She still sent letters about what an embarrassment I was. Often. Every time I received one, every time I saw that neat, spidery handwriting on the envelope, my entire body clenched up with dread.

Dropping into the chair in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection. My cheeks were flushed with anger, eyes snapping with it. My hands were still trembling with rage.

I hated Vince Burke more than anyone.

This was all his fault. Because he couldn’t control his wild temper and had started shouting at me for no reason, when I’d simply been watching him and Dan rehearse.

Alright, I may have been chuckling to myself when he kept fucking up a simple move, but it was unbelievably childish for him to have reacted so explosively to that.

And unfair. So unfair. The others all ribbed each other, poked fun when they messed up and made mistakes. Why couldn’t I? Why wasn’t I allowed to do the same?

They were like the bitchy groups of noble fae that loitered in my mother’s palace all the time, giggling and whispering to each other about those they didn’t like—those they saw as beneath them. These wrestlers were just as bad. If they decided you weren’t ‘good enough’ for their little gang, you were left out of everything.

Corey was the only one who didn’t rise to the pack mentality, but he had still told me off in front of all of them. Me. Next to him, I was the most refined one here. He had to know that this wasn’t my fault. It was Vince’s. Vince couldn’t control his temper. Vince had decided he loathed me and made it apparent at every opportunity. Vince was the reason for all of this.

While I knew Corey had to remain impartial during our court proceedings, I was still furious about being spoken to that way, especially by him. We were friends. Rationally, I understood. I’d witnessed this before many times. Like when Mother had exiled one of her oldest friends from the Spring Court because they’d been seen speaking to a Winter Court informant.

When I’d asked her afterward if she was feeling alright, she’d simply shrugged and said, “It is the burden of being queen.”

Honestly, she hadn’t seemed particularly upset. Able to compartmentalise, I supposed, so she could do what needed to be done. It was something I had always struggled with, which she despised. She saw it as a weakness. An unwillingness to do my duty as her son and a prince.

Especially when I fled Otherworld. I still had the first letter she had sent me, the one that called me a coward and a failure as a prince and a son. I wasn’t sure why I’d kept it.

I flinched and my ears twitched when a door slammed nearby. I had excellent hearing, so over the years I’d picked up the ability to discern which of my colleagues was coming and going from their dressing rooms.

That had been Vince. I knew it instantly.

Reflexively, I grabbed my brush and dragged it through my hair, my eyes still burning with anger as I stared at my reflection.

The way he’d spoken to me during court was disgusting. He was a pig. He genuinely acted like he’d been raised in a barn. He had no decorum. Shouting and swearing, unable to control his temper.

I was trying to remember which of us had managed to get the last word in. He’d called me a “condescending asshole.” I remembered that. And a “pompous, arrogant jackass.” Both favourite phrases of his when it came to me.

When Corey had initially said that he would speak to Holt about us, fear had streaked through me. I couldn’t get fired. I couldn’t. My brothers would never let me live it down. My mother really would disown me for shaming her name and her family and her court even more than I already had.

At least you’d be truly free of her then . The sly, whispery little voice drifted into my head—the one that appeared sometimes and made my stomach twist with terrified nerves and excitement. The one that had prompted me to hastily pack a bag that night at the palace, six years ago now, and flee from Otherworld with hardly any clothes, only a handful of skincare products and even fewer jewels, most of which I’d sold to get by when I’d first arrived in this realm.

Well… ‘get by’ was probably a stretch. I’d been able to make a cash offer on a decently sized house after a few weeks of living in the best hotel in the city.

But still. No staff. I’d had to learn how to cook , for gods’ sake. Not clean, though. I’d immediately hired a housekeeper—a fae called Ren who was still with me now. He’d jumped at the chance to work for royalty.

I’d built a life for myself here, a life of my own, and I wasn’t willing to lose it because of an uncouth ghoul who had decided we were enemies.

At least he isn’t entirely useless , I reluctantly thought, gritting my teeth, because he had backpedalled just enough for Corey to change his ruling and give us one last chance to be civil before he took the matter to Holt.

I sneered at my reflection. I was always civil. I was perfectly civil. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t call Vince names. If either of us were going to fuck up this last chance from Corey, it would be him. It would absolutely be him.

And if he ruined things for me, I was going to hire the best fae magic practitioner in the godsdamned country and have them curse him for the rest of his fucking life.