CASPIAN #2
“Fuck,” I groan, chasing the pleasure rolling through me.
His moan around my cock as he follows me only prolongs my high and it feels like an age before I slump against the wall to catch my breath.
I watch him sit back and lick his lips as I tuck myself back in.
I put a hand on his cheek, searching inside me for something similar to what is shining in Carter’s eyes as he looks up at me—reverent and…
attached . I don’t find anything even close to that.
I care for Carter and the sex is satisfying and fun but I definitely don’t feel anything close to the way he’s looking at me right now.
It’s a shame really. But he just isn’t quite enough .
Too perfect in every way. I keep wishing I’d find his edges—keep waiting to get the chills of stumbling upon something dangerous that I might cut myself on.
I need someone who will see through who I pretend to be to who I really am because since I can’t figure it out, maybe someone else can.
Everyone listens to me because of my authority—whether that of a prince or a rebel—it doesn’t matter because it’s all the same.
I want someone to stand next to me as my equal, not defer or look to me for every little goddamn thing.
I want a challenge. I want passion. Carter is a god, on the streets and in bed, but I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that I don’t want a god—
I want the devil.
CASPIAN
A FEW WEEKS LATER
T he tapestry with the House De’Vero crest takes up the entire wall behind the King’s chair in the council room.
It’s huge, gaudy and ridiculously pretentious but that’s the way it’s always been with the Houses—nothing is ever done on a small scale.
I tilt my head at the image of a bear on its hind legs—the symbol of the De’Vero house.
I’ve never seen one of the beasts in real life, although I’ve heard the tales of them from regions far to the north.
Vicious creatures twice the height of a man and able to kill one with a swipe of a giant clawed paw.
A banner floats around the beast’s body with the words “Death Before Defeat”—the De’Vero house motto.
More pretentious, noble bullshit—
“Are you listening, Caspian?”
I turn back to the room. The crown prince—my idiot older brother by only a few years—is sprawled out in a chair at the council table and my father is staring at me in annoyance, looking like he’s probably been trying to get my attention.
“I’m announcing Aldric’s betrothal to Lady Amina tonight—”
I wrinkle my nose. “So you got Lord Haldon to give you his army then?”
That’s the only reason anyone would want to marry that woman.
She’s part of House Mordikan, whose crest—while we’re on the topic—is a snake.
She’s equally as ugly as the reptile that represents that awful house.
However, House Mordikan has a sizable armed force that my father doesn’t want turning against him.
“Isn’t she the one with the laugh that sounds like a pack of—”
“Fuck off, Caspian,” Aldric’s looking at me with contempt but it’s short-livedas a sneer appears. “You really weren’t listening, were you?”
“What is it?” I look at him warily, then at Father.
“If you were listening earlier, you would have heard me say that along with Aldric’s announcement, I’ll be announcing your betrothal to Lady Annika.”
I immediately balk. “Absolutely not.”
Aldric looks smug. “Aren’t you fucking her brother?”
I glare at Aldric although he’s not wrong.
Lady Annika of House Falkren is more content to be out falconing than at court.
Unlike the rest of her family who have high aspirations, the few times I’ve met the lady, I’ve been bored out of my mind.
She’s one of those people who is so unremarkable, in both looks and mind, you’d never remember her in a crowd.
Her twin brother on the other hand—we’ve had a few fantastic nights together but outside the bedroom we have nothing in common and I’m fairly certain he was sleeping with me to gain political favor.
I turn to my father. “I told you I’m not marriage material, Father.”
The King scoffs. “It doesn’t matter. We need these alliances—we are broke and if we want to continue to hold this seat for any length of time, we need more money, more men—”
“So you can raid more towns?” I ask bitterly.
“They have to pay taxes just like the rest of the population,” Aldric shrugs.
“Granted, I don’t involve myself with the day-to-day running of a kingdom, but I’m pretty sure destroying people’s homes isn’t the correct way to collect taxes,” I say snidely.
“You will do this Caspian,” the King snaps. “As a prince of De’Vero it is your duty—”
“You have a duty to your people and yet you’re still creating more refugees than citizens,” I interject angrily.
“Why do you even care?” Aldric says. “You’re drunk most of the time, doing god knows what in every brothel in town—”
“Enough!” Our father barks. “I’ve already made my decision. It’s final.”
I storm towards the door. I refuse to be a pawn in this corrupt kingdom’s game only to then be used by a House who’s head of state has had machinations on the throne for decades.
Not that none of the others do, but House Falkren in particular has a nasty history of subterfuge and scandal.
It makes sense my father would want an alliance with them through marriage—mostly so I can be a spy for him I’m sure.
But the worst part is, it would inhibit my ability to continue my work with Foxhollow.
I rip the door open, causing it to bang on its hinges.
“Do not be late to dinner!” I hear my father yell before the door thankfully shuts behind me.
I am in fact late for dinner.
Intentionally of course. It’s surprisingly a lot of work to keep up the appearances of an irresponsible second son.
One who gets drunk all day, frequents the brothels, and generally avoids any and all responsibilities related to my title—that part is easy because I’m not faking that , but most of it’s all a smokescreen.
If people think I’m too busy being a degenerate, they don’t think I have the brains or the time for anything else.
And that’s exactly what I need them all to think.
No one questions the drunk, spare prince who shows no ambition or drive when he’s sneaking around the castle at all hours of the night or is seen down in the less reputable parts of town.
I saunter into the dining hall where everyone is already deep into the appetizers.
My father’s eyes narrow on me as I enter but he doesn’t dare call me out in front of the present company.
It’s a larger than normal crowd of nobles from all four houses—a banquet in honor of the announcement that everyone already knows about but is going to pretend they don’t.
I yank my chair out loudly, making sure the legs really scrape across the marble before sitting down. I immediately go for the wine.
“Nice of you to join us, brother,” Aldric says.
He’s seated directly across from me. Next to him is his betrothed and on the other side her father, Lord Haldon, is in the seat of honor on my father’s left.
I flip Aldric the middle finger and sit back, taking a large gulp of wine.
I may go to great lengths to portray an alcoholic but tonight I actually need the buzz after learning about my new role as future husband-to-be.
“Your highness—” I look to my right and bite back a groan because of course it’s Lady Annika. “Is the wine to your liking? It’s from our estate.”
“Caspian doesn’t have a good palette for such things,” Aldric cuts in. “He’ll drink the swill from any tap as long as it gets him drunk. Isn’t that right?”
I ignore him and take a sip. “It’s quite impressive, my lady.” And because I’m feeling generous. “Do you take an interest in such things? ”
“A bit,” she says. “Mostly I enjoy falconing out in the vineyards…” I tune her out as soon as it’s apparent she’s going to go on about her falconry for a bit.
The first time I’d met her I’d found it slightly interesting, commanding a bird of prey seemed like it could be exciting, but I quickly found out it’s literally all she ever talks about.
I’m immediately bored. I look down at the seating arrangement to see who else is here.
Where you’re seated at the table says a lot about your standing with the King and there are more than a few underhanded whispers and stares going on from nobles who are jealous their offspring weren’t chosen to marry the Princes.
I make a few sounds to make it seem like I’m listening as I take large gulps of my wine hoping it will kick in soon.
“The shipping lanes to Az’Verin were compromised again.”
I hear the comment and my attention immediately jumps to the speaker.
Lord Callohan, a noble sitting on the other side of Aldric’s betrothed.
He’s one of the older sons of the House Arvell.
Their house ships timber and furs to Az’Verin, one of the kingdoms that comprise Seven Landings, in exchange for spices and glass products.
“That’s an eloquent way to say pirates, my lord,” the man on his left states dryly. “How many ships?”
“Two that I’m aware of,” Lord Callohan sighs. “But if we lose any more the merchants will start to refuse the route.”
“Is it Blackwell again?”
Lord Callohan nods, looking grim. “Bastard strung up the Captain—hung him from the mast draped in the Black.”
“The crew?”
“Butchered,” Lord Callohan says simply.
His companion shakes his head. “Piracy is a growing problem—the noose is the only solution.”
“You have to catch them first,” Lord Callohan shrugs. “The Stormbreaker is notorious for eluding capture. If I ever get my hands on him though…”
“Your Highness,” Lady Annika draws my attention back to her.
“My lady, you’re to be my wife in a few short weeks,” I say, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice at the interruption of my eavesdropping. “Please call me Caspian.”