A Royal Rebellion

by Revella Hawthorne

  The relay station was huge, three towers rising a hundred feet in the air behind a twenty foot chain link fence capped by razor-wire. Concrete bunkers rested at the feet of the towers, holding the fiber optics, the electrical, satellite and numerous other vital communications systems hardware and wiring for the entire region. Only a fool would think that Lord Estiary wasn’t aware of every single word that was spoken or typed, since every mode of communication came through his property. Abe had a feeling that it was that level of control and access to information that Estiary possessed which both earned him the king’s wrath and protected him from it. Estiary was too dangerous to keep in the capital, and too dangerous to dispose of—so he was banished. Having only met the man in passing in his youth, Abe had no personal opinion of Lord Estiary, other than one of caution.

  Abe watched. It was an unmanned station. There should be no activity unless it was scheduled maintenance, and there was a single one lane dirt road weaving through the trees that accessed the station.

  So there shouldn’t be a black motorcycle resting on its kickstand just inside the fence, the section cleanly cut and peeled back. The bike was unfamiliar, but the style of its design, and the black helmet hanging from the handles, spoke of a certain personality. Abe felt a spark of hope in his chest.

  Away from king and capital, would Mason be willing to let his forced vows fall to the side? They were both out of reach of king and false duty, so maybe there was a chance….that they could be more than stolen moments and clandestine meetings.

  Abe knew it was that wish that let the man sneak up on him—his attention taken in by youthful dreams of love and romance. He felt like a fool when the cold snap of a safety being clicked off sounded behind him.

  Abe froze, mentally cursing his inattention, and he slowly lifted his hands, palms empty. He turned, making no sudden movements, and met the eyes of the gunman.

  “For Saint’s sake, Abe, even Percy would’ve gotten the drop on you,” Mason snarked, one brow raised as he lowered the weapon and holstered it. “Miss me?”

  “You bastard,” Abe breathed out, and he took a single step forward.

  Mason met him halfway. Arms crushing each other tight, Abe tipped Mason’s chin back and took his mouth.

  Relief, joy, love, anger. It was all there between them, but Abe let it go the second Mason opened his mouth and invited Abe inside.

  Just the taste of him was enough to strip away the years, the pain, the frustration and anger. Mason was real, he was here. They existed in this tiny pocket of time, untouched by reality.

  Mason moaned into his mouth, and Abe tasted him deeper, hands rising to cup his face and tip his head, deepening the kiss. Mason wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned into him, pressing their hips together, legs settling in a tangled weave of limbs. Mason was real, warm, skin smooth and stubbled cheeks felt divine under his palms. Mason was heat and hard muscle and a sexy sweet layer under the brash exterior, and every time Abe kissed him, the armor fell away, revealing the wounded and kind soul underneath. It was as if Mason was incapable of hiding who he really was when they kissed, when they touched, but Abe didn’t care why, he only enjoyed and treasured the change.

  The real Mason was someone who rarely saw freedom.

  Mason kissed as if he would never get the chance again. Desperate, needy, full of gasped whimpers and pleas for more. Abe gave him everything, hand sliding into his hair, pulling his head back and taking his mouth again. Their kisses were unending, neither stopping, taking small sips of air as they had their first real taste of unfettered passion in decades.

  Abe lost track of time. Mason always did that to him. Whether he was twenty-five or forty, Mason absorbed his whole focus the second they touched.

  “Oh!”

  The startled gasp behind them quickly gave way to giggles. Mason pulled back, giving Abe a look full of heat and promises, and Abe rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, wet from their kisses, before letting Mason go.

  Percy stood a few feet away, sweet face full of smiles, blue eyes alive with joy. He giggled again when Mason rolled his eyes at him, and the tiny breeder sprinted forward, rushing the blood prince. Mason caught him, a pleased and surprised look on his face, and he hugged Percy in return.

  “Mason! Mason! You’re okay! Oh! But you’re not! I’m sorry, are you hurt? You are hurt! Edward! Mason’s hurt!” Percy’s chatter was fast and ebullient, and the usually shy Percy was overcome with joy and flash pan concern.

  “I’ll live, little mouse,” Mason replied, gently easing him back. Now that Abe wasn’t kissing his brains out, he could see the cuts and bruises, the way Mason moved stiffly. His face bore marks from fists and boots, though faded by a few days. From the way he moved, Abe didn’t doubt that his prince was covered in half-healed wounds.

  Mason cupped Percy’s face, his eyes so bright, luscious pink lips curved in a shy smile, a blush on his cheeks. Mason put a hand on his stomach, where the baby bump was poorly hidden by his shirt and jacket.

  “Are you well?” Mason asked, and Abe could tell that Mason meant both Percy and babe in that question.

  “We are,” Edward answered instead, coming out from the trees, gently tugging Percy out of his brother’s arms. “I’ve told you time and again, Mason—stop touching my mate!”

  “He’s so adorable Eddie, I can’t resist,” Mason quipped, but whatever he was about to say next was broken off by Edward throwing himself forward.

  The brothers held each other. Abe so rarely saw them interact that each time was a surprise. Edward clung to his older brother, and in that clutch of arms Abe could see just how hard Edward was holding on. Always so in control, the capable and dependable prince was reduced to a young man who wanted, who needed, to lean on his big brother.

  Mason held Edward as if he would change his mind and pull away, squeezing the younger prince to him. Edward chuckled, and pressed his face to Mason’s shoulder. Abe very politely pretended not to see or hear the few tears that snuck out from princely men, and he went to where little Percy was hovering. Percy was crying, unashamed. The little breeder was one of the most emotionally honest people Abe had ever met, and he recalled Edward’s words to him the other day. Anyone who was bothered by Percy’s tears would quickly find themselves crying for another reason, and it was bound to be a painful one. No one messed with Abe’s friends…his family.

  Abe gathered Percy in his arms, and Percy gave him a startled glance, but snuggled in for a hug. Abe let him sniffle and wipe at his tears in peace, no judging. Percy was small, but lean, finely muscled, and he was a joy to hold. Abe held Percy in the shadow of his taller frame, sharing his warmth as the brothers reunited.

  Mason was whispering in Edward’s ear, but he was too far away to hear what the elder brother was saying. Edward gave a short, jerky nod, arms hugging Mason all the tighter before falling away. Mason wiped his brother’s cheeks with his thumbs, and Edward kept his back to Abe and Percy, as if embarrassed.

  “The palace is going bare for heirs, with both of us out here now,” Edward said, words full of tears, and he coughed, clearing his voice. “Is Malcolm wandering in the wilds too, or is he still following Father?”

  “Father has only one heir, and Malcolm knows better than most exactly who that is,” Mason replied, dark eyes on Edward’s face. “He’ll fight for what best interests him, as always.”

  Abe tightened up all over. Surely Mason didn’t mean… “Is it time, Mace?” Abe asked quietly, Edward looking back and forth between them.

  “Time for what?” Edward demanded.

  “Time to tell the truth, and free us all,” Mason said. “But not outside, in a damn squirrel’s parlor. There’s a far warmer and more enjoyable place we can share our fireside tales, and I need to put my feet up. I’ve been tortured you know, and hunted like a dog for days.”

  Percy gasped in sympathy, and Mason sent the small man a wink and a smile before heading back towards the station. “Where are you going?” Edward asked, motioni
ng back over his shoulder. “We need to get out of here, Mace.”

  “You can head for the border, brother, and I’ll wish you luck. But fifteen-hundred miles of cities and forests and towns full of avid royal watchers is between you and freedom. Be realistic. Getting there might happen, but the traveling isn’t wise, not so encumbered.” Mason tipped his head at Percy’s belly, and Edward narrowed his eyes.

  Before Edward could lay into Mason, Abe stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Mason and I can protect Percy better than an entire army of Elysian soldiers,” Abe vowed, and Edward sent him a searching glace, jaw tight. Mason continued walking, leaving him to convince his brother. “He knew we would be here. Perhaps not exactly, but he came this direction because getting to Elysian may be the best chance for Percy, but it isn’t the most likely of plans to succeed. We’ll all be safe if King Henry is stopped, and running away won’t be necessary.”

  “And he wants us to go where, exactly?” Edward asked, frustrated.

  Mason roared back in their direction, stopping the bike a few feet away. “Lord Estiary has been the most gracious host,” Mason said over the rumble of the bike’s engine, “And I warned him his involvement might mean a death sentence instead of banishment, but the crazy old badger just laughed and reached for another glass of wine. I’ll see you at his estate. Want a ride, little mouse?”

  Percy squeaked in alarm, eyes wide as he stared at the bike. Mason laughed when Edward grabbed Percy’s arm and stood in front of him. Abe waved Mason off, not wanting the brothers to start digging at each other so soon. “I’ll get them there, Mace. Go, I’ll see you soon.”

  Mason revved the engine, the bike taking off in a flurry of sprayed dirt and leaves. Abe watched as the love of his life disappeared into the forest, the roar fading as Mason got further and further away. One day soon they would be able to just…stop, and be, and exist only in each other.

  If they lived, that is.

  Lunatic kings and misplaced heirs needed to be settled first, though, before love could find time to flourish.

  “And if Estiary makes a move for Percy?” Edward hissed, dark eyes full of violent promise at the possibility.

  “Then we can be on the run for killing a noble, too,” Abe assured the prince, walking back towards where they hid the SUV in the woods.

  Chapter Seven

  Percy

  Finding his courage, Percy held Edward’s hand, chin up, shoulders back. He walked next to his lover, and not behind him, no matter how badly he wanted to hide in his shadow. Mason stood at the top of the stone steps of the great manor hall, the wind whipping his dark locks in a rather heroic manner. The dark clothes he wore merely completed the look, and one glance at Reynard’s countenance told Percy that the captain was deeply affected.

  Seeing Reynard and Mason kissing had been one of the most beautiful and surprising things of his short and sheltered life. Just the amount of love and passion in how they touched each other made Percy want to hug them both and sigh over them at the same time. He was rather emotional about it, and he glared down at his baby bump just as they escaped the wind and entered Lord Estiary’s home.

  Mason fell back to Reynard’s side, and Percy smiled, thinking the two tall, powerful men were stunning side by side. Edward squeezed his hand, and Percy sent him a guilty glance and a shrug at his questioning look. Edward flicked his eyes at his brother and guard, and his brows twitched and his lush lips quirked in a smile. Edward put his arm around his shoulder and hugged him, following Reynard and Mason as they walked down an impressive entrance hall.

  It was at least three stories tall, with twin staircases rising from either side. A balcony joined them over the main hall that disappeared into the depths of the mansion. The building was huge with rich rugs and tapestries on the walls in vibrant hues and scenes. Everywhere Percy looked were gold accents, and instead of the red of the Cassian décor, there were deep, royal blues, twilight hues and ocean shades. Percy was awed, and the effect was that of cool, calm welcome, despite the grandeur.

  Percy was slightly confused. They had yet to see any servants. Mason had opened the front door on his own, and they entered alone. There was no waiting servant to greet and guide them to their host.

  The four of them walked deeper into the house, the thick stones walls and the hues of blue making it feel colder in the shadows. Bright lights and the sound of music could be heard ahead, and Percy picked out the tinkle of high pitched giggles and deep masculine laughter.

  Edward’s arm went tight around his shoulders, and Reynard dropped back to walk on Percy’s unprotected side. Mason shot them a quick glance, sarcasm having an expression it would be in the way Mason shook his head at them. They stopped outside the open door, golden light spilling over them.

  Percy peeked around Mason’s wide shoulders, eyes going wide at the sight in front of him.

  It was a large room, made for comfort, couches and chaises and lounges littering the expanse. Wide loveseats and deep piles of pillows completed what Percy would compare to a harem from his fantasy books, and when he saw the nearly naked and beautiful forms lounging about, he figured it was pretty accurate.

  “Dammit, Mason! I didn’t want him in this environment!” Edward hissed at his brother, and Percy found himself behind Edward, view obstructed.

  “Eddie, Percy grew up in this environment. We’re the ones out of place, not him,” Mason said casually, and Percy looked around Edward to see Mason shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Eddie. Your precious virtue is safe from some fluff-brained pleasure slaves and a handful of retired breeders. Oh, and an aging harem master, but he’s too drunk to bite hard.”

  “Mason!” Called out an accented and slightly slurred man from inside the room, and the giggling cut off. “My darling boy, did you find your lost love? Ah, I see you did! And is that Farmer Eddie I see? Tell the young prude to stop being so jealous of his lovely dove, I have plenty of my own. Come in, gentlemen, and have a drink!”

  “Prude? Did he call me a prude?” Edward asked angrily, and Mason laughed. “Farmer Eddie?”

  “Coming, Lucius,” Mason called out, and he walked inside the room.

  Percy waited for Edward to make up his mind. Reynard stopped halfway between Mason and Edward, as if torn, waiting as well for Edward to make a decision.

  “Saint’s Blood…..” Edward grumbled, but he took Percy’s hand again and walked forward. “Percy, stay at my side at all times, understood?”

  “Yes, Edward,” Percy promised, following.

  There were at least twenty people in the room, with maybe enough clothes between them all to cover a normal sized man. Percy was accustomed to nudity, in himself and others, and the naked pleasure slaves and the rare breeder he could see didn’t bother him at all. The slaves were easy to tell apart from the breeders, at least for Percy. The slaves, all females, were lithe and slim with an elfin cast to their features, with high, smallish breasts and narrow waists. The breeders, also female, had wider hips and more flesh on their waists, though they were by no means overweight. The breeders also bore marks of their purpose, faint silver stretch marks on stomach and waist, and breasts that were fuller and not quite as high. The pleasure slaves were sterile, and their attributes were decorative, and unchanging until advanced in years. Breeders aged, albeit slower, but they still showed themselves to be past the first blush of youth. Percy only ever saw breeders past the age of thirty when they were retired back to Heritage and taken to the breeding pools to continue the in house stock lines, so to see the handful of females free to move about and not pregnant was odd for him.

  Edward led him after Reynard and Mason, who were taking seats near the fireplace, where an exceptionally handsome older man was holding a clothing optional version of Court.

  He was clothed, but the pretty slave on his lap was not. She was tiny, and looked no older than Percy, but she was designed to look that way, and could be ten years older. Wild, long and bouncy curls of vibrant red hair s
pilled over her shoulders, and deep blue eyes, almond shaped and fringed by thick black lashes gave her an angelic air, but her bare, perky breasts and legs open invitingly dispelled quickly any hints at innocence.

  Percy took in their host, his silver hair thick and swept back from his forehead, with a slight widow’s peak and dark eyebrows over gray eyes gave him a very distinguished appearance. He was wearing black trousers and a deep blue waistcoat, a white shirt underneath open at his throat. He was older, perhaps in his fifties, but he was lean and his arms, the sleeves rolled back, were muscled and toned. Rings glittered on his fingers, and Percy politely looked away from the hand that was buried between the red-haired slave’s legs, making her pant eagerly as he worked a finger in and out of her wet pussy.

  Edward sat in a high backed chair, and Percy went to curl up on the cushion on the floor at his feet, but Edward pulled him to his lap instead. Percy curled up, tucking his feet under him, and he stared back at the older lord, meeting his inquisitive gaze.

  “Greetings, assorted princes and guard,” Lord Estiary said with a wave of his free hand, his other still moving with purpose between the slave girl’s legs. “And a most hearty welcome to the beautiful Perseus, royal consort.”

  Estiary picked up a crystal and blue-gem goblet from a tiny side table beside his throne-like chair, sipping the deep red liquid from it, gray eyes roving over Percy where he sat in Edward’s lap. Lord Lucius moved his fingers in a smooth glide over the girl’s clitoris, and she came with a mangled scream, convulsing on his lap, legs closing on his hand, her breasts quivering as she struggled to breathe past her orgasm. Lord Lucius just sipped his wine and slowly withdrew his hand, making the exhausted girl spasm one more time before she sleepily rolled off his lap. She grabbed a folded cloth napkin from the small table, and handed it to her master who put down his goblet and cleaned his hand. She took the napkin and walked off, all without looking at any of them where they sat nearby.