Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Sebastian
Wren’s mouth hangs open. A look of surprise spreads across her delicate, gorgeous features.
My female has no idea that I’m Krovenian royalty.
This is all my fault. Maxim said we should tell her that we aren’t Border Patrol, as we know she’d assumed.
I am instead the youngest brother to both King Nikolai of Krovenia, and the Crown Prince Viktor, whose daughter, Lily, is next in line for the throne.
I was commissioned into the royal guard at nineteen and served Krovenia for ten years.
One year ago, I walked out of the Council chamber in the middle of a session, and I have not set foot on the other side of the border since.
I thought I had plenty of time, but time has passed much too quickly. This last year has been one of the best of my life.
Maxim and I bought the old customs house on this side of the border, put a wall around it, and went into business doing the only thing the two of us have ever been good at…
protection. Humans call it private security.
There’s no name on the gate, and we’ve never had a website.
Only our cell number is passed via word of mouth from one desperate human to the next.
A diplomat with a death threat, a journalist who wrote the wrong story about the wrong man, or maybe a family that needs to cross a stretch of very bad country and come out the other side alive.
The rich will pay a fortune for a week under the protection of two former Krovenian royal guards, and they have, over and over, and we take only the work we consider ethical.
No cartels or oligarchs need apply, no matter how many zeros they offer.
We’ve already had experience rebuffing human criminals from Krovenia’s borders, so this isn’t new.
We both served under my brother Viktor, who commands the Krovenian Armed Forces.
Four years ago, when a human trafficking army crossed our border to set up a base on the eastern range, we were with him when he ended it.
So taking out human criminals isn’t new to us.
Doing it for pay, on this side of the line, is simply the same work with a different flag.
It turns out a prince and a nobleman can make their own money. Maxim keeps the books, which he enjoys far more than speaking to the humans.
We’ve managed to stay out of the media, which on this side of the border is a skill of its own.
Ever since my brothers started marrying humans, the human press and social media have decided Krovenian royals are the most interesting creatures on earth.
They aren’t allowed inside of Krovenia, nor are drones or satellite images.
If they knew we were on the outside, they’d be all over us.
But they have no idea that I’m here, because Krovenians do not speak to human reporters or influencers, and Maxim and I dress and act like regular citizens.
I’ve enjoyed spending many of my evenings in this mixed species pub, with Wren entirely unaware of my status.
Of course, all the other ex-pat Krovenians know who I am, but across the border no one uses my title.
Meanwhile, Wren genuinely likes both Maxim and me, simply because of our looks, personalities and nothing more.
It’s been refreshing.
And I meant to tell her myself that I’m royalty, and that Maxim carries a title too.
Someday. But there was already the barrier of us being from two different species and her strict workplace rules—I didn’t want to create yet another reason why she’d possibly think a relationship with the two of us would never work.
But I never wanted her to find out this way.
My fangs drop a quarter of an inch. I clench my jaw and force them back.
The last thing this room needs is a Draven prince baring his teeth at a Council emissary in front of forty witnesses and one very confused human.
“Ilona,” I growl. “You came a long way to personally send redundant information.”
She shrugs. “The Council needed someone to personally run this errand, Your Highness. I offered to make this trip across the border.”
“Of course you did.”
Ilona of House Marrow was the first name on the marriage list they handed me that day.
She is loyal to the Council in the way some humans are loyal to a religion.
I’ve actually always admired her for her adherence to tradition.
It takes a certain amount of courage to volunteer to marry a male who has already told a room full of Elders that he would rather die than consent to their arranged marriage.
“Nine more weeks and then the year ends and the Council’s decree stands,” she lectures. “Your place in the succession is gone. Your commission, gone. Your seat at court, your title…”
I wave a hand. “I know what the decree says. I was in the room when they wrote it.”
“Your Highness, you need to come back and fix this. You’ve had almost a year of this strange freedom you crave, living mainly amongst humans.
” She looks around the room, at all the human servers mixed amongst the Krovenians and grimaces.
“But now you must return to fulfill your duty to the crown and the citizens of Krovenia.”
“Sebastian has always fulfilled his duties,” Maxim growls in my defense.
I shake my head and remain in my seat. The room is now so quiet that I can hear someone clearing their throat.
They are all listening and I don’t care, this isn’t private.
These citizens can all learn, tonight, my reasons for leaving Krovenia as well as not returning.
“That one year deadline was never a threat,” I explain.
“They gave me twelve months to reconsider. Come home and all is forgiven, or refuse past the year, and I am struck from everything. They thought it was leverage but I never meant to return.”
“What?” Ilona rears back. “You never meant to return? What are you even talking about? You are a Prince of the realm. Why would you choose permanent banishment? It is nonsensical.”
“Ilona, I’m living the life I choose. This freedom that you dismiss so easily is important to me.
They could have sent every Elder in the kingdom to kneel in this back room and beg, and I would have bought them all a pint of the black and said no.
There is nothing across that border I want that does not already come to me.
My brothers comes to visit, as do my nieces and nephew.
Viktor’s wife sends me terrible Ohio candy in the post. Yes, I would love the ability to return to Krovenia to visit, but as for now, I’m willing to take that trade off. ”
She raises a brow. “But you have a royal residence, jewels, staff and a fortune set aside for you to inherit. This would all be lost.”
Maxim crosses his arms. “Sebastian has made his own fortune.”
She snorts. “Whatever it is, it couldn’t possibly compensate for what he would be losing. Your Highness, the King has been patient with you, but you must return.”
I snort and lean back. “That’s because the King is my brother.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wren’s face change. Every human on earth knows how the King of Krovenia married a human maid. The wedding was on every screen in the world. I was the little brother in the photographs, grinning too wide.
Wren looks at me like I have grown a second head.
“My brothers each found a human to mate, instead of the arranged marriage.” I say to Ilona, but my words are meant for Wren.
“The Blood Calling chose for them, and they followed it, and the Council screamed and then blessed both matings because that is the law. And then the Council looked at me, the last brother, and decided I would be the one they worked hardest to arrange, to make up for the two they lost.”
Illona wags a finger at me. “The Council decided that the last male in the line of House Draven must—”
“The Council decided that I was the only Draven brother left who had not embarrassed them yet.” I smile at her. It is not my good smile. “But while I am still breathing, I will find balance between loyalty for my ancestry and the modern idea of royals being allowed true Blood Callings.”
Ilona’s eyes move to Maxim. “And House Volkov?” she questions. “Lord Maxim. Your father…?”
“No,” Maxim cuts her off, firmly.
Ilona closes her mouth.
House Volkov is the oldest noble house in Krovenia. The Elders, as well as Maxim’s father, wanted his line secured just as badly as they wanted mine.
Lord Maxim refused.
I have known this male since we were nineteen and freezing on night watch on the eastern range.
He is my best friend, and I know the Blood Calling is sacred to him.
The idea of taking an elixir to perform a breeding with a stranger while the gods might still be planning to call him into an actual Calling, he believes this is a sin.
When I walked out, Maxim Volkov resigned his commission in solidarity. I did not ask him to do this, he decided on his own that the time was right to take this stand with me, because he would have been next.
“Sebastian.” Ilona’s voice softens. “I did not come here to threaten you. I asked to be on the top of your list because I know you and your family. An arranged marriage with me would not be a cage.” She takes one breath. “Come home.”
For one second, I am sorry for her.
“I’ll mate when the Blood Calling chooses,” I explain as kindly as I know how.
“Not before. It has not chosen you, Ilona. It never will. And I want you to be happy too, with a mate of your own that is a true Blood Calling. I am giving you the space to find him. To have true love in your mating bed instead of a cold elixir.”
Her jaw clenches. “There is no one else for you or I. The Council has chosen for us to be mated, and it is our duty to follow their edict in order to maintain the purity of our bloodlines.”
My eyes flick over to Wren, standing with a tray in her hands, a fresh whisky for Maxim. Her long, dark hair behind her ears, her green eyes fixed on Illona. I love the curve of her throat and her soft, plush lips.
I remember the first night we met.
Maxim and I walked through the front door, down the passage and into the back.
She was behind the taps with Zora, laughing at something a border guard had said. It was a real, genuine laugh with her head back and throat bare, and both of us stopped in the arch like we had walked into a wall.
Then the door swung shut behind us, the air moved, and her scent reached me.
The Blood Calling hit me the way I imagine a bullet does. The world tilted, my fangs came down all the way, and I have been hard for this female in one form or another for twenty-one nights.
And in the same second Maxim’s hand closed on my arm. I thought he was holding me back, but he was holding himself up. Maxim told me in the truck afterward, with the engine running and neither of us able to drive, that he’d felt the Blood Calling too, for the same human.
Nothing was wrong with him. Nothing was wrong with me.
The gods had simply done something they have never done.
We made a vow that night. Wren is ours but neither of us claims her until we understand what this fully is to her. There will be no jealousy between us, because there has never been any of it before, and we are not starting now.
And then Ilona follows my gaze and looks at Wren. She lifts one gloved hand, snaps her fingers, twice and sharp, the way a noblewoman calls a servant across a hall. “You. Bring that here. I want to see if this establishment keeps anything worth drinking.”
My palm is flat on the table, pressed hard into the oak.
Maxim moves with the swift, silent grace of our species, instantly inserting himself between Ilona of House Marrow and our female.
The guards in the passage do not interfere.
“Stand down, Lord Maxim,” Ilona says, without looking up at him. “I am hardly a threat to a serving girl.”
“Then you have no reason to be so close to one,” Maxim growls.
I exhale.
And now they all know.
Twenty-one nights of being careful. We were here, spending time drinking the black and Maxim’s favorite whisky, eating dinners and never letting any of the other Krovenians in attendance know what she is to us.
But now they all understand. And by the end of the day, tomorrow, the news will have spread amongst the court, the nobility and the military.
And maybe even into the townships. Will everyone understand that both Maxim and I have the same Blood Calling for a human female?
This will land like a bomb.
Wren sets the tray down on the edge of the nearest table and gives a bright smile to Illona. “We do keep the best whiskey on the Border, ma’am,” she tells Illona. “We just don’t serve it to Krovenians who are rude or demanding to the staff.” A small pause. “House rules.”
From the passage, without looking up from her clipboard, Margit agrees, “House rules.”
Zora, behind the taps, puts a hand over her mouth.
The back room makes a sound, low and approving. Forty Krovenians watched a human waitress refuse a noblewoman of the Council. My female is adored by the other Krovenians who appreciate her devoted hospitality, and they instantly dislike the way she is being treated.
Wren continues to stand with her chin up and a smile on her features. And I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
Ilona really looks at her for the first time.
At the girl with the tray and the flush high on her cheeks.
At the pulse going hard in the side of her neck, which every Krovenian in this room can see.
Then Ilona’s eyes go to Maxim, standing in front of her like a door, and to my hand pressed flat on the table, and she meets my gaze.
And she inhales deeply.
Dammit. This will confirm her suspicion. The Calling is on me right now like smoke on a coat. Every Krovenian who has ever stood near a mated male knows exactly what it smells like. Maxim is the same.
And yet I watch as she misunderstands. She looks at Maxim and sees a royal-guard officer standing between a threat and his prince’s female.
She has watched a hundred guards do it for a hundred royals.
She does not look at him twice or bother to test his scent.
“I see, there is another,” Ilona tells me softly.
She pulls her gloves tighter. “The Council will hear of this, Your Highness.”
A grin spreads across my face. If Illona misunderstands, then the room will do the same. “Please send them this information and tell Petra I said good evening.”
Ilona looks at Wren one last time, her gaze lingering on her throat.
Wren’s eyes widen and a hand comes up and covers the side of her own neck. Humans know what our fangs are for, and they know where we put them. This is the reason so few of them ever let a Krovenian close.
Ilona turns to exit and her guards fall in behind her. The three of them go up the passage toward the front and they open the door to exit.
Snow flurries sweep down the passage behind them.
And I stare at my female.
Let the Council come. She is ours.