CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

RICHARD

"You caused over twenty thousand dollars in damages, to say nothing of the injury claims," King Frederick Hargreave said so casually that one might even have believed him indifferent. That was very much not the case. "You, the crown prince and heir to my throne, tossed a man through a plate glass window."

"Believe me, he deserved it, Father."

The two of them were alone in an antechamber off the grand throne room. Richard couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone with his father without servants, advisors, or guards present.

But if his father had summoned him to this private meeting in the hope of keeping the bar fight from going public, then Richard had some bad news for him. This time around, reality wasn't going to cooperate with a king's wishes. Rumors of the barroom fracas had already spread like wildfire, especially on social media.

It didn't matter that Richard hadn't been arrested. His royal title and standing gave him a kind of pseudo-diplomatic immunity. However, Heath ended up arrested and taken to jail for arraignment. Richard refused to leave his friend behind. He'd crashed in a nearby motel and spent most of the day contacting lawyers and pulling strings between visiting Heath in lockup. It had been one of the few times he'd leaned on his title for leverage, letting the officers know how important Heath was to his pack and, specifically, to him.

Needless to say, his father had not been happy about the scandal. He'd also not been pleased when Richard refused to return to the palace until Heath was released from jail. But finally, Heath was released when the DA declined to press charges given the hate crime nature of the initial attack. Now it was time for Richard to pay the piper.

His father watched him with a jaundiced eye. "You are doing this to provoke me, aren't you? This…" His father swallowed a growl, but only barely. "This public misbehavior. It is your passive-aggressive way of acting out because your lover was removed from the palace. It will stop."

"Misbehavior, Father? I simply went out for drinks to celebrate having my true mate found for me yet again. Is that not cause to revel?" He did his best to look virtuous, knowing it would vex his father. "I brought along a member of the Royal Guard, who kept me safe from some human bigots. The damages were an unfortunate by-product of vigorously discussing our differences of opinion."

Richard stood across the room from his father, leaning against one of the built-in bookcases with his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit trousers. He knew that he looked a frightful mess. He hadn't changed clothes since the fight. He'd slept in them, in fact. They were smelling pretty ripe and looking very worse for wear. The right knee of his pants yawned open in a rip, and he wasn't sure how it had happened. He'd lost the suit jacket entirely. His white dress shirt was spattered with blood. Not his blood. Blood from the man he'd punched in the nose, gloriously shattering it in his first-ever bar fight.

Before last night, Richard never would've dreamed of responding to his father's summons in such a wretched state. Yet, here he was. Doing it to annoy his father. It was petty defiance. Childish. A little rebellion not even worthy of that word.

But something inside him had changed. There seemed to be no more solid ground in his life. Everything was quicksand, slowly pulling him down. Fighting hadn't felt as good as he'd hoped, and even punching assholes hadn't given him any lasting happiness or soothed the yawning ache inside him. The hole where his love for Justin had been, a place that was now only emptiness and pain.

"You caused a nightmarish mess with the human law enforcement agencies," his father pressed on relentlessly, his scent one of anger and derision as he ignored Richard's sardonic justifications. "Imagine my shame when I learned my firstborn son and heir had been detained and might end up charged with multiple felonies. Why in the Goddess's good name were you outside the walls in the first place?"

"Would you believe that I didn't want to shame you by getting drunk in one of our city's fine pubs where my face would be instantly known?"

"If keeping a low profile was your intention, you did not succeed."

He shrugged and watched with pleasure as his father's eyes narrowed. "What can I say, Father? It has been a rough week for us all."

"At least you didn't kill anyone," his father snarled. "However, I expected far better of a captain of the Royal Guard. He will be punished."

Richard pushed off the bookcase and pulled his hands from his pockets, distress flaring inside him along with a flash of anger. "Heath had nothing to do with this. He was merely acting as my bodyguard, obeying my commands. You wish to punish someone, Father? Punish me."

"Oh, you will be punished, rest assured. The reprimand and reprisals will not be flagrant. Outsiders must never see dissension in our family ranks. But you and I will know. That is enough." The king shook his head in disgust. "You are fortunate that I haven't passed the title of heir to your younger brother. The thought has crossed my mind on many occasions since learning of this mess."

"Careful, Father. Use that threat too often and I may take you up on it."

His father fixed him with a cold, measuring stare. Richard held his gaze, refusing to submit. He had no idea what had gotten into him since losing Justin. It was as if his wolf had turned feral. He'd gone along with cutting Justin out of his life forever because it was his duty to the pack, to the crown, and to the Goddess. But if that was the Goddess's will, why did everything feel so deeply wrong?

"You dare threaten me?" the king asked quietly.

"There are no threats here, Father, except for yours. If you wish to raise up my brother to be king after you, then do so. But I won't have that threat be a choke chain around my throat."

"At least your brother has the good sense not to openly shame the Hargreave name. Now our name is tarnished by this violent scandal, a meaningless scuffle in some filthy human bar, and those kinds of stains do not wash away. Especially not in this day and age of humans and their computers. Every reporter will mention those events with every article they publish about our royal line and your future rule." His father leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, his emerald eyes pitiless. "If you do not begin treating your role as crown prince with the necessary dignity, respect, and gravitas, you will find yourself cast forth from the pack. Don't think my blood in your veins will save you."

Richard bit his tongue on a blistering reply. His head was pounding as he struggled with the defiance rising inside him like a dark tide. The pressure building inside him only intensified, crushing in its weight, hardening everything within him into diamond.

He kept silent. It was a very near thing.

Sadly, Richard wasn't prepared to call his father's bluff. He might never be ready to do so. Gregory was not prepared to be an alpha king. Richard's younger brother got into all kinds of trouble the king either didn't know or didn't care enough to make a stink about. Gregory indulged all the perks of being a royal prince with none of the leash of duty to the pack and throne around his neck. He chased pleasure, chased fun, and cared little for the burdens of rule.

But Richard wasn't going to sell his wilder little brother out, either. They had always presented a united front when dealing with their father—a man who could be coldly indifferent or something very close to an enemy.

His father's stare bored into him. When Richard remained silent, the king chose to accept that as a sign he'd won. His father settled back in his chair, and the oppressive domination of an alpha king's wolf aura faded a little.

"We spoke of punishments," his father finally said. "I am confining you to the city until further notice. You are not to leave our borders without my explicit permission."

"I thought you wanted to avoid a scandal? Someone will eventually notice the crown prince never leaves Altaden. Especially if my mate is some wolf in Seattle."

"It will not be forever. Only until you purge those urges you had for that other omega. Once formal arrangements are made for you to meet your true mate, I will rescind my ruling. But if you defy me, I will drop all pretenses at keeping my displeasure hidden. The Royal Guard will take you into custody and confine you to the palace."

Being grounded like a misbehaving teenager chafed his last nerve, but listening to his father disparage Justin was as grating as sand between his teeth. Yet he had no leverage against his father, and his lack of options and agency infuriated him.

"What of Heath?" he demanded, his jaw clenched.

"I intend to demote him from the rank of captain for his role in this."

His heart sank. Guilt ate at him. He'd dragged Heath into this mess, and now Heath was going to suffer for being his friend.

"An overreaction, Father," he said, but the note of desperation in his voice rang clear as a bell. His father would use Richard's love for his friends against him. He was that kind of king. "It does you no justice. I told you; Heath did as I commanded."

"Overreaction?" The king actually sounded amused. "You have the gall to lecture me on overreaction after throwing a human through a window?"

"What better way to prove how alpha I am than by tossing people out windows when they dare attack my royal person?" He meant it sarcastically, bitterly, a verbal jab at his father and his unyielding rule. "I believed you would approve."

"Power should rarely be exercised and never so crudely," his father replied. "The threat is the weapon. A veiled look. A significant word. A smile that shows too many teeth. Have I raised a fool, that you do not know as much after all this time?"

"I suppose that remains to be seen, Father." Richard bowed, but his words were as cold as his expression.

He expected his father to dismiss him. It came as a surprise when he did not.

"While you distracted yourself dealing with the human authorities in the diplomatic mess you caused, a few interesting things have happened that you should know."

Richard was wary now, not comfortable with the sudden gleam in his father's eyes. "How ominous. What happened?"

"We will wait for the spymaster to share the details. It concerns that low-born omega that tainted your bed."

"His name was Justin Turner, Father," he growled. "Justin was far kinder and gentler than I ever was. Now tell me what happened with Justin."

A cunning, dangerous look came into his father's eyes and deepened Richard's unease. "You still think highly of him."

"Because he is a good person. Better than you were ever willing to admit."

The king snorted in derision. "That omega was nothing but a grasping, up-jumped fraud. Only your deviance from the norm allowed an aberration so close to the throne."

"This again? I prefer the company of men, so I am a deviant? Justin is how the Goddess made him, so he is somehow an aberration?" He spat out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a snarl. "If you want to blame someone, blame that majinette dreamer who brought us together."

"Oh, I do. When we find her, she will pay most dearly."

For a moment, Richard only stared at the king, the man he called his father. Had his mother truly loved this man? He'd heard whispers, insinuations, that his father had been an entirely different person when Richard's mother had been alive. Kinder. Happier. She'd died of a stroke within a year of giving birth to Gregory. Did his father feel as empty without her as Richard did without Justin? Was that what had changed him?

He wanted to feel sympathy. Perhaps his father even deserved compassion. But he could not do it. His wounds were still open and bleeding. Besides, his father wouldn't want his sympathy. He would only believe it weak.

While Richard remained quiet, torn in so many directions that it felt as if he were being pulled apart, his father summoned a servant and sent him to bring in the spymaster. The king seemed entirely too eager for this moment. Noticing that filled Richard with dread.

The silence between them was fraught and icy as they waited. Richard's wolf paced in his mind, agitated, angry, and worried about Justin. He wanted to demand that his father stop playing these damnable games and tell him what he knew about his mate. No, his…ex-mate. But Richard held his tongue. Asking would only play into his father's hands.

A gentle knock sounded at the antechamber door, and the spymaster entered at the king's command.

Mathias Irvena was a wolf that Richard knew mostly by reputation, their previous interactions having always been rigidly formal. The man better resembled a university professor than a shadowy master of intrigue. He sported a meticulously symmetrical goatee, gold-framed glasses, short brown hair of no particular style, and a refined, patrician face. His designer suit wasn't typical of male nobles and courtiers these days, but he wore a cravat and vest with a golden pocket watch dangling from a chain. His eyes were a very light color, a pale amber or maybe a faded gold, but the color seemed to shift depending on the light. Mathias Irvena was not a wolf to underestimate, despite the vest and pretentious pocket watch. He might look like an intellectual, but he smelled like danger.

The king waved a hand at Mathias. "Tell my son what you told me earlier."

Mathias bowed to the king and then to Richard. It was not the ostentatious bow of a courtier. Neither was it the self-aggrandizing bow of a wolf like Pirchet. Instead, it was the utilitarian, no-nonsense bow of a military man. Those pale yellow eyes lighted upon him, but Richard couldn't read the thoughts behind them. Mathias's scent revealed nothing either. The man was opaque.

"Justin Turner departed Altaden yesterday morning. Mr. Turner left the hotel where a palace security detachment dropped him off last night. CCTV footage shows Mr. Turner walking to the postern gate in the Boatswain's District. He passed through the checkpoint without incident and into Chelsea proper—"

"You have people spying on Justin?" Richard demanded of his father, unable to decide if he should feel furious, outraged, or panicked. All three warred within him with no clear victor.

His father merely smiled an unsettling smile that never touched his eyes. "There's more. Listen."

Richard bit back a snarl and returned his attention to the spymaster, who picked up where he'd left off without showing any irritation at the interruption.

"Mr. Turner used the debit card given to him by the crown to pay for a taxi ride to Logan International. He used the same card to purchase a one-way flight to Wisconsin. The flight landed in Green Bay at two thirty p.m. He has not used the card since. Mr. Turner also left his assigned cell phone behind, so we cannot track him through cell towers. Currently, we don't know where he is or what his intentions are."

Richard crossed his arms and glared at the spymaster. "Are you asking if I know where he is or what his intentions are?"

"We have concerns, Your Highness," Mathias replied evenly. "Justin Turner left the pack without his alpha's permission."

Richard kept tight control of his emotions, not daring to let them see a flinch or a blink, not allowing a trace of emotion-scent to give him away. He didn't want them to know how learning Justin had left the pack made Richard's stomach drop sickeningly. But how could he blame Justin for fleeing? Richard couldn't have stomached staying in Altaden and having his nose rubbed in this, either.

His father watched him closely. "I am his alpha and his king. The omega fled the city without my leave. His defiance threatens the order in our pack."

"Why does any of that matter to you, Father? I told him he wasn't my mate, as demanded. We even barred him from the palace. What did you expect? For him to sing your royal praises from the city fountains? Going by how deeply you hate him, I'd think you would be thrilled he's gone."

"My personal opinion of the omega does not matter. He is sworn to me. He is part of our pack. Now he has forsaken his oath and acted in defiance of my position as his alpha and king."

"Even you could not be so petty and cruel."

His father only watched him, that unnerving smile lingering.

The spymaster gently cleared his throat. "Information in the pack archives claims that Justin Turner came to us from New York. His paperwork states that he was born in Dayton, Ohio. He is the offspring of David Turner, an omega wolf who was deceased long before Justin Turner joined the Hargreave Pack. His…other father is unknown to him and therefore to us."

"That's right." Richard's urge to defend Justin made his wolf shoulder its way to the forefront of his mind, demanding he shift and protect his mate. He barely kept control of his wolf and struggled against the compulsion. "He lost one of his fathers and never knew the other."

"And that was the distinguished lineage you wished to join with our heritage?" his father chided, his words soft-sounding yet wickedly sharp.

Richard clenched his fists and jaw and did not deign to reply. It was all he could do to restrain his wolf.

"Do you know why he traveled to Wisconsin, my prince?" the spymaster prodded. "What is there for him? Or was he leaving a false trail? Where would he go?"

"I have no idea. He never once mentioned Wisconsin, so your guess is as good as mine."

Both his claims were lies. He told the lies with anger and scorn, using the stronger scents to mask his deception. He needed to be very careful here.

Justin had family somewhere in Wisconsin. An aunt, was it? There was a farm of some sort. A place he'd lived after his father passed away, back when he was still a minor.

Richard wasn't about to share that with his father, much less the spymaster. He wanted them to leave Justin alone. Richard had hurt Justin badly enough already. Let the poor wolf lick his wounds. He deserved a little mercy, damn it all.

Guilt and yearning tore at him again. The booze and the bar fight had managed to distract him for a little while, but nothing could fill the hole left inside him after losing his omega wolf.

If his father suspected Richard was lying, he didn't say a word to call him on it. Instead, what he said was far more chilling. "We will find him if we look. It is inevitable."

"I have an excellent idea. Why don't we leave Justin alone? We can pretend we are decent people and do the right thing. You got what you wanted, Father. He's gone. Show some Goddess-damned compassion."

"Is this my firstborn son and heir begging me to show mercy?" His father's smile was cruelly triumphant, the grin of a predator that had trapped its prey. "The wolf prince who takes such delight in mockery and sarcasm is now begging the father he scorns to stay his hand?" He leaned forward on his elbows, cupping his chin, his green eyes glittering. "I will give you what you want, son. But I will take something from you in return."

Alarm bells sounded inside Richard's mind. His wolf growled in his thoughts, low and menacing. That beast had no desire to submit. The wolf certainly hadn't gotten the memo about Justin—or hadn't accepted it—and any threat to the wolf's mate immediately stirred aggression, made clear by Richard's struggle to keep control.

"What is it you want?" Richard finally said, his words clipped.

"I want what I deserve."

Goddess, the man was drawing this torture out as long as he could, enjoying every second of it. "And what is that, Father? Or do you expect me to guess?"

"You will behave like a mindful, obedient little heir. You will submit to me, your alpha, your king, your father, in all things large and small. You will never speak to Justin Turner again, not in secret, not through proxies, and neither give him aid nor warning. You will not lie to protect him. You will not speak of him with your ‘friends' or with your true mate. He is dead to you from this moment on. You will wed the wolf prince chosen for you, my firstborn son, the heir to Hargreave Pack and the throne of Altaden. You will do your duty to me, to your pack, and to the Goddess with no more defiance, no more carousing, and no more bringing shame upon our House. You will heel."

"And exactly what do I get in return for utter capitulation?"

"If you swear upon your honor and upon the Goddess to do as I demand, I will show this omega wolf mercy. I will not have Mathias track him down and drag him back to Altaden in chains. I will not have him prosecuted and punished for his transgressions and locked away for the rest of his life. So swear it and be bound by your words like the king you hope to be."

His father's demands echoed in his mind like clanging bells, the sound ominous and unnerving. His father was not going to allow him time to think this over carefully and find some way to continue to defy him. He wanted an answer now or Justin would pay.

How could Richard do anything but agree? This was the final way he could show Justin that his love was real. It wasn't some illusion or deception, even if they hadn't been the Goddess's intended soulmates. He could do this one last thing to keep Justin safe.

Richard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he spoke, his words were clear and precise and utterly without emotion. "I swear it. I will do all that you demand, Father."

There. His last gift to Justin was given and done. Now things between them had ended for good—a final nail in the coffin. Justin was gone forever, and Richard had utterly submitted to his father's demands. He still feared the choke chain around his neck would be even tighter than expected, but there was nothing else to do. His father had won.

"Good," his father said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Richard with delight for the first time in a very long while. "Then that is behind us. Let us look to your future."

Richard only nodded. His pride was as shredded as his heart. It was all he could do not to grind his teeth. Or bare his fangs.

"I have already spoken with King Eric of the Royal House of Rainier," his father continued pitilessly. "King Eric was pleased to hear that his firstborn son of high birth has been chosen by the Goddess as your mate. As it turns out, we share much as fathers, including concerns about how the unique needs of our children coincide with every noble heir's singular and overriding duty: to produce offspring for the next generation of wolves."

"Feel free to twist the knife on my deviancy, Father. It shows the world how deeply you care."

His father slowly raised an eyebrow. "We have not gone five minutes from your spoken vow, and yet your sarcasm makes another unwelcome appearance."

"My apologies. Old habits die hard."

"You are forgiven." His father waved a hand magnanimously. Having won, he could afford to overlook it. "Yet, I no longer wish to hear you whining like a kicked puppy over a frank discussion of the challenges your sexual preference presents the kingdom. A king must view a thing with a cold eye. He must evaluate it without emotion, without sentiment. He cannot allow himself to be weak when the pack looks to him for strength. The alpha wolf rules, but this is his duty. You have only started down the path of duty with your long-overdue vow. It is not an easy path to run."

Richard gritted his teeth through the lecture. Of all the people on this planet, only his father could make him feel like a surly, resentful teenager again. His wolf bristled even more, pacing and growling inside his head. His wolf was not a creature built for submission, even to his father and even to his king. The break between himself and his wolf was slowly tearing him apart.

The spymaster watched impassively, his eyes and scent unreadable. Richard would never forget that the man had witnessed his humiliation. When Richard was finally king, he would be employing a new spymaster. When he was king, a great many things would change.

"Prince Peter Rainier will be arriving at the palace in November," his father continued. "That is the soonest suitable arrangements can be made. Still, I believe a hastier betrothal is a better idea this time. No sense in keeping you from your true mate when courtship is now only a distraction." His father gestured at the door. "You have my leave to go, Richard. Remember your vow and your duty."

Richard bowed curtly, turned on his heel, and left without another word.

But inside his mind, he remembered every word of his vow. How could he not? It was seared into his wolf like a brand.