Chapter One

1695

The first toll of the bell came after Remus was dragged from his bed in the dead of night. A chain made with lirek was wrapped around his neck, rendering his lightning magic useless. As weapons flashed and voices shouted, he was sure he wouldn't live to see the light of dawn.

Instead of ramming a sword through his gut, they stripped him, bound him, pulled a sack over his head, and dragged him outside while the bell called out the news. Despite his kicks and struggles, he was forced down to the cobblestones. Through the sack over his head, he could smell the burning coal of the forge that lay by the south wall of the Palace grounds. Someone's boot pressed on his head to keep him still while several others held his arms and legs.

The chain was removed, and he tried again to use his magic. Lirek must have also been worked into the stiff rope binding his wrists. Cold, heavy metal touched his neck. He'd smelled the burning forge a thousand times and never thought he'd be forced to lay by it while a gold collar with more lirek was locked around his neck.

One of the many new men spoke to Remus. "I suggest you don't move unless you want a hole burned through you."

Someone said to watch it. The rough voice of the blacksmith said to move the light closer and "hold that steady."

Even he was a traitor.

If he spilled the liquid gold he was surely pouring into the keyhole to seal it, Remus would be in a realm of agony once it hit his skin. If he had any chance of escape, he couldn't deal with an injury like that. He broke out in a sweat as he expected searing pain in his neck.

"Good?"

"Yeah," grunted the blacksmith. "He'll never get that off by himself if he escapes."

"The King's coming."

Remus bit back a swear as he was forced up onto his knees. The bell let out another bong that thudded in his chest. He knew the tread of the one he'd come into existence with.

"Remove the sack so that I can look upon the traitor."

A guard tore away the sack. Remus almost didn't want to believe it even though he knew the truth. The deep bong of the bell meant the death of a Royal Family member. Regent Lupo was dead. Depending on how one looked at it, Remus was the King at the moment.

But he didn't even rule himself at the moment, and nobody was about to coronate him.

"Our Uncle? Is nothing too low for you? Father would roll over in his tomb if he knew this."

Remus couldn't even say anything. He should have known with the new guards brought in and the excuses the Commander had given him. Lupo had suspected nothing either. Nothing he said would matter because it was clear every man in the courtyard followed the new ruler.

"Did you truly think you could slip back into bed and no one would suspect you? Luckily, I have loyal men or I suppose you would do the same to me if laying the blame on my back didn't work."

"Quintus-" The words lodged in Remus's throat. It didn't matter when his twin stood there, free and uncollared. He'd been born an hour later, and he'd snatched everything in less than an hour.

Quintus clenched his fists and looked up at the dark sky as if grief truly weighed on him. Remus cast a glance at the other men. They wouldn't care even if Quintus dared to blurt the truth. Remus had been reduced to an order to be carried out.

"You're not even worthy to lay next to Father," Quintus finally said. "You'll go with the rest of the slaves as a gift. I'd ask Elira to watch over you, but…I can barely stand to look at you."

A gift. There was only one Kingdom Quintus would seek to appease in case someone was having second thoughts about peace.

"I'm your brother," Remus tried as the bell spoke of death once more. "We're twins! You-"

"You were my brother until you drove a knife into Uncle Lupo's throat."

***

Remus didn't go quietly. He tried to kick down the backboard of the low boxcart as it carried him through the dark city of Norraco. The wood didn't crack no matter how hard he pounded on it. If the cart had been taller, he would have stood and thrown his shoulder against it. Voices sounded in the street, and the bell could still be heard, although it was muffled. Either no one heard or cared to help when he shouted.

Remus managed to bloody a guard's nose with a good kick when they hauled him out at the docks. The sight of the blood on the man's face did little to appease Remus's rage. Several other guards chained his ankles together and roughly dragged him onto a ship where sailors were already preparing to get underway. Someone complained about bringing him down into the hold with the rest and said he'd likely rile up the other slaves. Even his presence could be a problem, and twenty angry slaves could be subdued, but why not avoid the problem?

"Drug him."

The sweet liquid had a bitter undertone that nearly made Remus puke when it was forced into his mouth. Above, the stars bled and dripped into each other as if weeping for him.

Nobody would weep for him again.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he awoke in a dark room with only a little light from a crystal lantern hanging beyond the bars by him. It swung slightly in time with the movement of the shipment. The brig.

When he sat up and looked at the other small cages in the dank space, he heard nothing but the creak of the ship. Nobody else had been locked up with him.

Judging by the dryness of his mouth, a couple of days had surely passed. Someone must have dribbled drugged water or broth into his mouth to ensure the prize captive didn't die and remained compliant.

His limbs were stiff, and his back ached. Slowly, he sat up with a wince. Gold cuffs circled his wrists, and chains ran to the wall. His ankles had also been shackled, and he had enough slack to walk a few steps. He tugged on them with no result.

By the bars, a deep bowl waited by a water skin. The bowl was only half-full to avoid spilling the contents, and he inched over while he let his eyes rove about.

Narrow stairs led up to a door. It'd be locked like his cage. No keys had been left hanging on a hook. If he was going to find some way to escape, he'd need his strength. That was if he could get the chains off first. Or if someone opened the door…He could barely think.

The salty soup was cold and barely had any solids. He drank every drop and slowed himself with the water so he didn't make himself sick. The chains clinked with every movement, further hammering in the fact that his Uncle Lupo, the Regent of Rowland, was dead and gone. His twin was a traitor and had sold him.

He'd jump ship and swim back to Rowland if he had to. Afterward, he'd kill his brother for everything and avenge Uncle Lupo.

Dear Elira, what had Quintus said to others? What lies had he spoken? How many citizens believed them?

The terrible truth grew heavier when he found himself slumping to the floor with a head that weighed more than the dome of the Palace Hall. Something tasteless in the soup or water ensured he didn't get to further think about escape or revenge.

***

The red-headed slave woman was silent as she rubbed cream into the red marks on his ankles. Again, Remus was chained, but that time, he was in a bathing room, and the chains forced him to stand with his hands above his head. It hadn't been a pleasant way to wake up.

The water the woman had scooped over him had already drained into a grate on the floor. Two people with different accents watched him, and while the slave said nothing, he knew her voice wouldn't carry the Rowland accent either.

He'd woken up a long way from home, and while he remembered absolutely nothing of coming into this place, he knew where he was: Belle ?me, the newer capital of Soleil.

He would have fought, but the woman was a slave like him, and hurting her wouldn't solve anything.

"Maybe we should wait a few days if you don't want him to have a healer," said a man with a pointy nose. The other, likely in charge of the slaves, waved a hand and pushed up his round spectacles. "He's marked, and it makes him look so common . That's something I'd expect to see on a criminal."

"He is one," said the second. "Last I checked, even savages have laws against treason."

"But he's not some common criminal hauled off the street. He's royal, and a gift for royalty."

"It'll heal. His Majesty can order the healer to deal with him if the few red marks on his ankles are bothersome."

"He's clearly a brute, and you know how many he killed. He'll likely kill the-"

"No, he won't."

"I wouldn't trust him."

"His Majesty can decide what to do with him."

The first tapped the tips of his fingers together. Everything about him was pointy: his nose, chin, and fingers. His ratlike gaze didn't leave Remus as he tapped away, clearly disapproving of the "gift."

The shackles on his wrists forcing him to stand in place were pretty solid, and they didn't give when Remus pretended to shift a little and let his weight pull on them. The walls and floor were made from decorative tiles in shades of cream and pale blue, and a couple of stools stood over little grates on the floor for water to drain away. The steaming pool was inviting, not that he cared for a soak. Folding racks held drying sheets and washcloths. It was fit for royalty, except for the chains hanging in a few spots. This was a bathing room for slaves, and new ones like Remus would be restrained if they grew unruly.

The slave rubbed scented cream over the rest of him, and he tried not to flinch when her hands touched in certain places. It was clear she had no interest in him and was only doing her job.

How low to have sunk to where he couldn't be trusted to clean himself.

He kept his face stoic, and his gut twisted because he knew who owned him now. Quintus had given him over to Regent Corentin, the ruler of Soleil.

Once the slave finished, Pointy called out to someone.

Remus made another attempt at fighting when three hefty guards came to get him. A good dose of lightning to lock his muscles made it easy to deal with him. Blindfolded and tied, he was forced through endless halls with the threat of more lightning. Nobody had bothered to dress him, and he thought the shame couldn't get much worse until they positioned and chained him in place on the floor.

Once he was secured, the blindfold was removed.

The room was quite nice for someone who'd been named a traitor and had less status than a dog. He'd expected a dank cell.

The high, barred window let in light since the shutters had been slid aside, and the paneled walls had been painted off-white. Intricate curlicues ran down the edge of each panel. The wooden floor had been polished to a high sheen, although he imagined it wasn't so shiny under the steel plate he'd been chained to in the middle of the room.

The ring in the center was for the chain that ran from his gold collar. He had enough slack to remain on his knees, although his head was lower than he'd like. The end of the access was also hooked on the ring. On the left and right side, two small rings were for keeping his wrists in place. Only two links ran from his gold cuff wrists to them, so he could forget raising a fist, standing, or straightening up on his knees. He tried to get into a position that didn't appear so degrading, but the guards kicked him and threatened to shock him again.

Grudgingly, he obeyed. Resting on his forearms and knees, he looked ready to be mounted.

Spectacles finally spoke directly to him. "Watch your mouth around His Majesty. You're no longer a Prince, and it'd be wise to remember that."

Someone knocked on the stout door and poked their head in. "Is he ready? His Majesty wishes to see him."

Pointy looked to Spectacles for a nod before he spoke. "Yes. Bring him in."

Voices spoke from the hallway. Remus caught sight of an iron lattice and sunlight beyond it. A few guards came into view and peered in as if they had to make sure that Remus was suitably restrained. Boots clicked in the hallway, and Remus ducked his head. A shiny pair appeared in the doorway.

He'd rather die than lay under the Regent, and they'd have to beat him senseless to keep him from fighting.

"Your Majesty, this is your gift from King Quintus as a reminder of our peace."

The boots clicked in, and Remus caught the scent of jasmine and roses. "A murderous traitor is hardly a worthy gift."

Dear Elira, no. The supposedly reserved Regent was one thing. He dared to look up at the younger voice and would have let his lightning magic find its target if it wasn't for the damn collar.

The young man's white hair hung past his shoulders and gleamed silver in the light from the window. Instead of the brighter colors Remus would expect from royalty, he wore black. His knee-length coat was in the newer Soleilian style with the sleeve laces going all of the way up to the shoulder. They were perfectly even and snug, and the buttons had been done to his neck. Black trousers. Shiny boots.

Bright eyes of any color had always interested Remus, and he liked his men slim and beautiful. The melodic southern Soleilian accent from full lips didn't hurt either. Remus had never seen silver eyes with such a cold hardness as if they could pierce a man's chest like a dagger.

The Crown Prince Sébastien. The one who'd vehemently opposed the treaty that the Regents of their respective countries had agreed to, and the one who still wanted the werewolves to be wiped out. Tales of his anger and attitude had spread. He was certainly beautiful and only a year younger at twenty-two, but foul and a problem waiting to happen since he'd take the throne at twenty-five.

"Why does it stink in here?" Sébastien's fangs showed as he spoke, and his calculating gaze swept up Remus's naked body, although the question definitely wasn't directed at him. Normally, a man with fangs also would have excited Remus. With the Prince, it was like watching a forest panther contemplate its next meal. "He smells of werewolf."

Spectacles cleared his throat and nodded even though Remus didn't stink and certainly never smelled like a werewolf. The slave woman had been quite thorough in washing him. "I'll see that he's better bathed in case you require his services."

"I won't. I can find far better."

"Your Majesty, he's-"

"Maybe I don't want a traitor. They're all barbarians anyway, and I think his Father proved that. Look at him. King Quintus might as well have sent me a rabid mutt. I don't dip my dick in filth."

"You'd be the one under me." Remus pulled on the chains holding him in place. "Although I'd probably break your ass."

Like he'd fuck some pompous prick who made childish insults about someone being smelly. The faint crack in the Prince's mask was worth the guard's boot that slammed into Remus's gut.

The little glimpse told Remus enough. The Prince was scared of him at least to some degree. That could be to his advantage. Or it could work against him.

Spectacles clasped his gloved hands while Remus tried to get his air back. "Your Highness, it's fitting that he serves you. Quintus could have simply killed him for treason, but this is better."

"Oh, and why is that? He can't look a man in the eye before killing him? Quintus has to send away his cast-offs?"

"Remus's Father was responsible for the werewolves in our borders and the events that came from that. Everything was because of King Giorgio-"

"I am quite aware of what happened," said Sébastien.

"Remus will also pay for his betrayal in Rowland. Quintus could have simply killed the traitor, but it was better to put him to use and further solidify our treaty. He also came with a large gift of two dozen slaves which we never even asked for, and the court will have their pick. Quintus specifically gifted him to you, and while Remus is guilty of treason and a murderer, a once-Prince is better than a commoner. This is a man who knows what's expected of those below royalty and won't make a fool of himself in public as long as he learns to keep his mouth shut in the first place. You should have him. Imagine how King Giorgio would feel if he knew his son was the slave of his enemy's son?"

Was a guard supposed to watch them fuck to ensure that Remus didn't wrap his fingers around that pale throat and squeeze? Sébastien still didn't look very convinced about the quality of his present.

"If you turn away the King's gift, the Regent will be quite displeased, Your Majesty. It would be an insult to Rowland, and our peace is too new. Quintus clearly wants to keep the peace especially when you take the throne in a few years. Rowland doesn't keep slaves, but they know we do."

"Criminals who murder family members are typically hanged, not enslaved," Sébastien said with each word clipped and precise. He curled his lip slightly at Remus. "Those who were royalty know what's expected of those below them. They're not very good at actually doing it."

"Punish and break him as you see fit, Your Majesty," said Pointy.

"I'd suggest the humbler for now," said Spectacles. "It'll teach him a lesson and leave him fit in case you do decide you want his services as soon as tonight."

Remus kept his face blank and stared at a spot just above Sébastien's head. Like fuck he'd lay there and take it.

"Whatever. Maybe it'll teach him to speak respectfully to his betters." Sébastien turned and left without a backward glance.

Remus couldn't go anywhere, so everyone followed the Prince, and the door slammed shut. A lock clicked. What was a humbler? Remus tugged on the chains and tried to dig his fingernails under the metal plate, but he couldn't get his hands properly positioned. The plate wasn't budging anytime soon.

When two guards returned with an item that Remus supposed was for beating someone with, he told himself to suck it up and deal. A few bruises weren't going to break his will that easily. For some reason, it had a gap in the middle.

The guards had a way to keep him in place while they adjusted the lead chain. It seemed they weren't about to take chances any time soon despite his inability to raise his hands. Another chain was hooked onto his collar and the link. Only then did they adjust the main lead and force his head lower.

Once the extra chain was removed, Remus set his jaw and figured they'd start hitting him with the fancy stick. He managed to look up enough to see one removing thin rope from his pocket, and he jumped when the other took his balls.

"Fuck off," he snarled.

"Shut up when someone's got your balls," snarled the guard. "Like we care for Rowland ass."

The humbler came apart, and his sack went between the middle. The top half went back on, and they bound the ends to tighten it. They said nothing when they left him there like that.

"What the fuck?" he snapped once he was alone.

The humbler didn't pinch his skin, but it wasn't exactly comfortable to have his balls stuck in something. He should have figured it would be some kinky torture. Anyone who owned and willingly dealt with slaves would be a sick fuck to start with. The same went for anyone who worked a job involving them.

Since the ends of the stick stayed behind his thighs, standing wouldn't be possible even if he was freed. He also wasn't able to lower his body to the ground to rest on his stomach because he couldn't straighten his legs. Not without ripping his balls off.

If he was unchained, he'd be able to crawl at most, and even that wouldn't be easy.

He let out a frustrated noise since he'd be stuck on his forearms and knees until someone came to release him.

Rage boiled in him. His current situation was thanks to Quintus. Overall, who was to blame? Without the war and Father's death, Quintus wouldn't have dared to make a grab for the throne.

A Soleilian would say it was Rowland's fault along with the werewolves there and in South Sea. A Rowland would say it was Soleil's fault, and when Sébastien looked at Remus, it was clear he didn't see a fellow fairy being. All he saw was the son of the one ultimately responsible for his family's death.

Remus was someone to take out his hate on.

Truly, the blame couldn't be fully laid on a single man or Kingdom, not that Sébastien would see it that way.

It had started with an issue in the north of Soleil. A clash between a couple of werewolves and fairies had left the fairies dead. The old hate against werewolves reared its ugly head once more, and a few were slaughtered in retaliation. King Jean banned them from his borders with notices to surrounding Kingdoms.

No werewolves were allowed back in. If anyone wished to banish the beasts from their borders, they couldn't be sent toward Soleil. Ships weren't to bring them as passengers either.

In Midland, Rowland, and South Sea, werewolves were permitted to go where they pleased and do what they wanted like any man even though they weren't fairies. Three werewolves later got on a ship from Rowland to Soleil. By chance, the Crown Prince Enzo and his Mother, Queen Margot, had been at the docks in Port de Naffis to see an enormous new ship.

The ship had fired cannons in honor of its maiden voyage, and with the crowd cheering and distracted, no one heard the initial screams. The panic spread like a disease, and many attempted to flee. A few children and elderly people had been trampled, and others had been gutted by the werewolves.

Enzo and Margot had attempted to flee and avoid the stampede.

After the three had been dealt with and the panic was over, Enzo had been found near his Mother's body. They'd been so mutilated by their attacker's claws and teeth, they'd barely been recognizable. Enzo had surely been responsible for some of the burns on the werewolf's corpse, but it hadn't been enough to save him or his Mother.

Truly, Remus could feel sorry for Sébastien finding out that his oldest brother and Mother had died so brutally. He'd only been fourteen that spring. Some said he was supposed to have gone with Enzo and Margot, but he'd been made to stay home and study with the tutor since his work hadn't been up to par. If that were true, it had saved his life.

Prince Remere had stepped up into the position as the Crown Prince, and with his Father, King Jean, they'd demanded answers from Rowland, although the war hadn't started right away.

What was Remus's Father, Giorgio, supposed to have done? He didn't know a ship had agreed to take three werewolf passengers or what they'd do. Only one werewolf had survived and was currently in prison for life. He'd refused to talk from what Remus had heard, but he could guess the reasoning for their rage.

They'd wanted revenge for the few who had been initially killed. And now that Remus was there, Soleil had the opportunity to get revenge on Rowland for the war that took King Jean and Prince Remere.