Chapter 2

2

COLDEN

W hen the prince and I arrive at the top of the stairs on the third floor where the guest rooms are located, Alexus is waiting outside what is apparently my door. His massive frame is leaned back against the ornate moulding, arms folded over his chest, his booted feet crossed at the ankles. My dark knight. My guardian in black.

My cock-block extraordinaire.

The prince and I pause at the end of the hall and glance at one another, our previous chat now thoroughly ended. He’d been pointing out certain aspects of the grand residence of Shara, to which I offered sincere admiration and interest, especially when he said, “I hope you like your chambers. The bedding is new and exceptionally comfortable.”

So much for asking if he’d like to help break in the mattress.

Alexus straightens as we approach. “I don’t know if you saw anyone downstairs, but I was told dinner will be served within the hour.” He reaches over and opens the door. “I put your things on your bed, and the staff has provided a wash basin. I thought we might need to clean up before dining.”

All of which translates to: Get rid of him so we can talk. Also, I made sure your room is safe.

The prince presses his hands together. “Ah, yes. The staff has been working all day preparing quite the feast for your arrival. Shall I help you settle in, Colden?”

The moment draws out as I consider my answer, the air between the three of us awkward and tense. By the way he’s clenching his jaw, Alexus looks like he could bite a steel blade in two. His disapproval for my attraction to the prince is blatantly obvious.

It isn’t jealousy. I used to wish for that, that he would see me in a different light than just an immortal friend. And though we’ve explored certain temptations over the years, his heart is sealed away, something I accepted long ago.

To him, this visit with the prince is strictly business . Nothing more. The boundaries surrounding such things are clear and firm, one of those being: No more fraternizing with gods, goddesses, godlings, kings, queens, princes, or princesses, Colden. It can only lead to trouble, so keep your dick in your pants.

I’m sure he’s right, and that I should absolutely keep my dick in my pants when it comes to the prince. But this life would feel even longer than it already does if I tamed every desire.

I’d settle for a kiss. One taste of the prince’s tempting lips. I might not even like it. I might feel nothing. Not a single spark. But I’m not against trying.

Alexus stares at me, and I can see the answer he wants me to provide to the prince’s question. It’s written all over his annoyed face.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own,” I reply with a slight bow of my head. “But thank you.”

I swear I catch a hint of disappointment in the prince’s expression, though he smiles, runs a hand down the golden buttons of his brocade vest, and draws his shoulders back. “Wonderful. Then I’ll leave you to it.” We exchange nods, and the prince turns to go, though he stops and turns back. This time, however, his eyes don’t fall on me. He focuses solely on Alexus. “Mister Thibault, you’re certain we’ve never met?”

Alexus doesn’t move, but I see his brain working in those next few moments, and I recognize the suspicion in his eyes. “Not to my knowledge, Your Majesty. Pardon my boldness, but I know so little about you. I’m not sure where our paths could’ve possibly crossed unless you’ve visited the North.”

The prince’s face changes, a sudden mask altering his openness, shutting it away. “No. I’ve never set foot on the Northland Break. You just seem so familiar, that’s all.”

I lean into the door frame, resting my forearm across the moulding above Alexus’s head. He cuts a look at me. “It’s the black hair and green eyes,” I say, gesturing to the prince. “When I first saw you, I thought to myself, This handsome fellow could be Alexus’s kin. Quite similar features.”

“I’m sure that’s all it is,” the prince says with another smile, though this one doesn’t reach his eyes, and he doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “I’ll see you both in the dining hall shortly, then?”

We nod, and once the prince disappears into the stairwell, I level a look on my friend and lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

He arches a brow, matching my tone. “I think otherwise.”

“Nothing would’ve happened save for a little innocent teasing. We just met, for gods’ sakes.”

“And yet I can already see the way you look at one another. You two would’ve never made it to dinner if the gazes you shared were any indication.”

“And that’s a problem because ?”

He glares at me. “Do I really need to answer that?”

With a roll of my eyes, I push through the door to my room. Alexus follows, closing it behind him. My pack is on the bed, just as he said.

Alexus stalks to the window and peers over the vast countryside. “There’s something off about him. I can’t figure out what it is, but it’s there.”

I jerk the luggage close and unlace the straps. “I detect nothing but a nice, young fellow who happens to be the new prince of your former homeland.”

He huffs. “Nice? That’s not what I call any of this. He could be trying to seduce you for political reasons. Did you ever think of that?”

“Of course, I did!” I shed my jacket and dig for my royal blue tunic and gray trousers. “I was rather hoping he’d seduce me right out of my clothes and into this—” I pause and look up, taking in the gargantuan four-post bed that could have been more fun than this conversation. “My gods. You certainly know how to ruin a good time. Remind me to never bring you along on trips like this ever again.”

As I rip off my shirt and head to the wash basin, Alexus moves to the bed, stretching out and propping his feet up, hands behind his head. “If I weren’t here, there’s no telling what disaster you’d end up in. There are at least a few members of the Brotherhood in this palace somewhere. I’d bet the rest of my days on it. If I’m right, and I’m sure I am, they’re watching every move we make. Even if you can’t see them, I promise you they’re around.”

“And what am I to do about that?” I run my fingertips through the still-warm water. “We’ve discussed this. It’s best to come across as no threat. You’re the one acting like a godsdamn bodyguard.”

“Which is my job. They don’t know me, though, and I doubt they can sense my power with it bound up for Neri. You, however, are a different story. They’ll be even more suspicious now that you and the prince have clearly formed a liking for one another. All I can advise at this point is to go about the business we agreed to discuss. Make certain he plans to honor Regner’s treaty. Then, get any info you can on the prince himself and his plans for the Territories. Will he continue in the way of the Eastern kings with the Land Wars? Or is he truly planning to set this break on a different path than it’s ever traveled before? Do all that first, and then fuck him if you must. But his attraction to you and yours to him shouldn’t interfere with what we came here to do.”

I splash water on my face and grab a small lump of soap in the shape of a raven. It smells like lavender and vanilla.

I scrub it between my hands until a lather forms and smear it over my cheeks. “Fine. I’ll get the treaty issue sorted tonight. Then tomorrow, I’ll get even more information out of our host.” Another splash or two and I reach for a linen, drying myself before I face Alexus. “But remember. Seduction is my game. If we want answers, I might as well use the prince’s interest in me to our advantage. If he’s as curious as I think he is, he’ll take care of the Brotherhood. It’s a game I can’t lose.”

“So long as you don’t forget that it’s just that,” he replies. “A game. It’s temporary, Colden. It’s nothing real.”

Again, I know he’s right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Nothing is ever real. Ever mine. Nothing is everlasting when you’re immortal , save for this difficult existence.

Alexus leaves to tend to his own appearance while I finish washing and dressing. Wearing the royal blue tunic, replete with silver stitching, I stare into the gilded mirror above the vanity table and comb my hair, smoothing the soft waves.

Perhaps I’m doomed to spend eternity as someone who only ever enjoys the exhilaration and romantic notions surrounding love rather than true love itself. Perhaps I’m simply incapable of devotion like that. Flirting and teasing and the excitement of a new partner and good sex might be all I’m destined to know, and maybe I understand that deep down, which is why I’ve learned to enjoy all of these things to the maximum effect. I’ve learned to find happiness where I can. To chase it. And today, happiness lies with the Prince of the East.

Temporarily. Just like Alexus said.

Dinner is much like I imagined, save for a few things.

One, Alexus was right. There are three men dining with us that weren’t present when we arrived, and though they’re not donned in official garb, the look on my friend’s face tells me all I need to know.

They’re members of the Brotherhood.

Second, there’s no talk of the treaty, and no time to slip in the mention. The Brotherhood controls the conversation with the most mundane discussions, much to my annoyance. Alexus and I share several glances, all of which say: Tonight is not the night.

And third, the prince seems to have lost all appetite. He picks at his food like a child ordered to be polite, a child who would rather do anything other than eat the meal before him. It makes me wary to eat it myself, but the other men don’t hold back on serving heaps of meat and roasted vegetables onto their plates. We also pour our wine from the same flagons, so poisoning doesn’t seem to be a fear I should worry about.

When dinner ends, Alexus bravely occupies the members of the Brotherhood, pretending to be fascinated by their ages-long sect. If anyone understands all there is to know about them, it’s him.

Wine glasses in hand, they exit the dining hall and head for the smoking parlor, while the prince and I stand awkwardly in the main hall.

“Might I interest you in a stroll through the gardens?” he says. “The night is lovely.”

I raise my wine glass. “Sounds perfect.”

Alight with lanterns, the gardens are immense, a vast stretch of gravel pathways, fountains, statues, trees, and flowering shrubs. Together, we walk leisurely through the balmy night, under the stars.

The prince slips his hands into his trouser pockets. “These gardens were designed by Queen Iberta, some six hundred years ago. She named the palace after her only daughter.”

“Fascinating. Queen Iberta was King Theron’s only heir, yes?”

He turns a sparkling look at me, a small, surprised smile. “You know Eastland history?”

I shrug, feigning innocence, though I see a way into a conversation we need to have. “I know a little. The whole royalty bit has always interested me. You see, I might carry the title, but I’m no king. It certainly isn’t in my bloodline. My parents were poor sailors who lived in the Western Drifts. Also, Winterhold is a lovely place, but it can’t rival this.”

“It isn’t the blood in your veins or the luxury around you that makes one a leader, though,” he replies. “Guiding a kingdom is a duty, one I think you’re honoring quite well.”

We stop near a massive fountain, and I meet his eyes. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve led the North for nearly three hundred years and protected your people. Not to mention you’re here, aren’t you? To see to it they remain protected?” He rakes his hand through his hair. “Listen, I’m aware we need to discuss the treaty King Regner held with you, and I plan to sign my name to it tomorrow. I won’t do anything but uphold his wishes, so you needn’t worry. The North hasn’t been part of the Land Wars in quite some time. There’s no reason that should change now.”

Hearing those words brings relief, sort of, but…

“Does that mean the Land Wars will continue?” I ask. “Or is the East finally finished with Thamaos’s ridiculous plot to claim the Summerlands? He’s been dead for as long as I’ve ruled the North. Perhaps you’re the man who will end the madness that has forever infested his kings and queens?”

His eyes soften, those dark brows turning up in the middle. “Forgive me, but I cannot speak of my kingdom’s political endeavors with you, Colden. I’ve been a prince for all of six months. I’m still learning so much, but one thing I know for certain is that I cannot share privileged information with the King of the Northland Break, treaty or no treaty. Please understand.”

“Fair enough.” I wave it off, pretending to be more uninterested than I really am, and sip my wine, glancing back at the palace. “You know, you and I have a lot in common, I think.”

“How so?” He motions for us to continue our walk, and we head toward the rose garden, our boots crunching against gravel.

“Well, as I said before, I have no royal lineage, no blood right to lead the North. And you have no royal lineage either, correct?”

He offers a sidelong glance and a smirk that says he knows I’m fishing for information. “None.”

“So see? I have a feeling we’re the kind of men who simply do what must be done, which is why I’m hoping you’ll change the Eastern Territories for the better.” I pause and add, “From what part of the territories do you descend?”

He stares ahead into the night, a dark lock of hair falling over his forehead. “Everywhere, really.” He goes quiet then, as though debating whether or not to continue giving me such personal information, though he does. “Would you believe me if I told you I was a vagabond before this?”

“Not in the fucking least.”

He laughs. “Why not?”

“Because! Look at you. My gods, you’re too damned handsome and charming to be a vagrant, roaming around and unattached. ”

He smiles again, softer this time, and his eyes glitter as we pass a lantern, the look on his face one of remembrance. “I was a man of the land for many years. Very much alone. One with nature and my prayers. They were eventually heard, I suppose, because I simply wanted to matter in this life. To do something or be someone who would leave a lasting impact. Being here—being the Prince of the East—it feels like a calling. What I was born for.”

My eyebrows dart up at that. “So noble. I could probably learn a lesson or two on accepting duty with such grace.” A moment passes. “How old are you?” I inquire. “You said you were a man of the land for many years. You don’t look like you’ve had many years to begin with.”

A sudden discomfort comes over him, a noticeable tension in his tightening spine. “I’ve had more than you’d think. Wasn’t it you who said looks can be deceiving?”

I study him, feeling like I should be seeing more than I am right now.

“I’m…twenty-six,” he goes on.

“Forgive me,” I say, pausing and waiting for him to face me. When he does, I continue. “I didn’t mean to make light of your years alone because of your youth. Your story just fascinates me. A young man—a vagabond, no less—becoming the prince of a powerful kingdom. It’s the perfect beggar to riches tale, though I imagine it must be surreal to be where you are now.”

He nods. “Most days, I wake up and can hardly believe this new and amazing life is really mine. Though I can’t imagine it’s any more surreal than being immortal. You seem to live a rather… exciting life.”

I give a small laugh at that. “It probably does seem that way. Then again, what’s the point in living forever if you’re boring?” My quip doesn’t receive the smile or laugh I was hoping for, so I take one more sip of my wine. Liquid courage. “Tell me, does the perfect prince have a perfect princess to share this new and amazing life with?”

Now he tames a threatening smirk, keeping his sparkling eyes on mine. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Perhaps a prince of his own, then?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a dashing, crooked half-smile that makes my heart skip a beat.

“No,” he answers. “Not yet, anyway.”

I wink. “Just checking.”

With that revelation hanging between us, we keep walking. The prince shows me through the fragrant rose garden, insisting I smell several blooms, and takes me to see his favorite statue, one of two men facing one another, their foreheads touching, their hands entwined.

“Why this one?” I ask as we stare up at the sculpture, its white stone illuminated under the moonlight. We’d passed another statue of two men in the throes of passion. I rather liked that one.

“They seem so close,” he answers. “The connection between them is captured so well.” He steps forward and points to their hands. “Look at their fingers, the way they seem to be caressing and holding to one another at the same time.” He then points toward their heads. “And if you look closely, you can see they’re staring at each other’s mouths. There’s such longing on their faces. Such tense need.”

I swallow hard, seeing what he means. The physicality is there, but when I look closer, deeper , it’s impossible not to feel their yearning, their sweet sorrow, their… love .

“I should head back,” I say, my words tumbling forth without any warning from my godsdamn brain. “I’m suddenly quite tired. Perhaps these last several weeks of travel are finally wearing on me.”

Once again, disappointment crosses his face, and I’m stunned by how much it bothers me.

“But of course,” he replies. “If you can find your way back, I might stay out here for a while. I often miss the outdoors, and rain season will arrive soon enough.”

“Certainly.” I fidget with my wine glass. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Absolutely. I have plans for us.”

“Splendid! Can’t wait!” Without asking him to elaborate, I turn to leave. But then…

“Colden?”

I stop and, after a deep breath, turn around, my heart beating wildly. How I want him to ask me to stay, though a part of me desperately needs to go.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” is all he says.