Guard the Crown: The Royal Alphas

by H Q Kingsley

  Zyke fell to his knees, dry heaving over the toilet before a mess of puke spewed from him.

  I dropped down beside him, rubbing small circles on his back and pushing back his hair that had grown too long to stay out of his face.

  “Peanut?” I asked, my voice high with panic.

  "I’m okay," he rasped, swallowing hard and then making a face.

  "Are you sure? Because you don't look okay,” I said, noticing how shaky his fingers were as they gripped the toilet seat.

  He nodded. "I'm fine. I've just been getting nauseous on and off these past few days. It usually goes away by the middle of the day."

  "You mean…” I blinked at him for a long moment, frozen in place. “Like...morning sickness?"

  His eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open. "No. No! I mean...I can't be...I can't... Can I?"

  We both stared at each other for a long moment, and I knew he was waiting for me to say something, but I was momentarily stunned.

  "We should go to the clinic," I finally said. "Just to...just to make sure."

  He nodded, but he was still pale and shaky, so I helped him up and got him dressed so we could go.

  Luckily, in an area like the one we were in, all the vital services were pretty close, so we didn't have far to go to get to the clinic.

  It wasn't anything fancy like the hospital in the capital or the private doctor I was sure the royal family had, but they could handle telling us what we needed to know.

  There was a short wait, since we'd come in last minute, and I held Zyke's hand while we sat there, letting him squeeze it as hard as he wanted in his nervousness.

  My heart was pounding as I looked at him.

  “I-f you are…” I cleared my throat. “Would that...would that be okay?”

  We hadn’t talked about it much except for some far off talks of the future, and I genuinely wasn’t sure if he wanted any kids yet. He was still so young and just coming into himself, a part of me was afraid that he might resent me for putting him in this situation.

  He looked up at me, his eyes far off and worried. “What?”

  “Just, I know we haven’t talked about it. If you...don’t want...you can tell me.”

  “What?” Zyke shook his head. “No, I mean...I don’t know. I just…” He sighed. “Before you, I never really let myself think about any of this stuff. I never thought I’d have someone or a life or anything, and now...It’s just a little overwhelming.”

  My heart sank. “Oh, okay.”

  Zyke’s eyes went wide. “No, I mean. A good overwhelming.” He chewed his bottom lip. “But still...a lot.” He squeezed my hand a little tighter. “I just keep thinking...what if I am and then something happens and…” He met my eyes. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

  I reached out to stroke his cheek. “You could never disappoint me. I need you to understand that. There’s nothing that could ever happen that would make me love you any less.”

  Zyke nodded, and I tilted his head up to meet my eyes again.

  “I need you to say it, Peanut. So that I know you know.”

  He swallowed. “There’s nothing that could happen to make you love me less.”

  I leaned in to kiss him. “Good,” I said, straightening when I heard his name called out.

  Finally, the nurse called us back, and Zyke nearly shot out of the chair, making me scramble to keep up with him as we headed back to the examination room.

  "What seems to be the problem?" the doctor asked as we stepped into the room, her face tired but cheerful.

  "I think...I mean..." Zyke stammered, staring down at his lap.

  "We think he might be pregnant," I filled in. "And we just want to know for sure what's going on."

  She nodded. "Of course. It's best to be sure about these things. Can you sit up here for me?"

  Zyke got settled on the examination table, looking smaller and meeker than I'd seen him in a while. His hands were shaking, and I held onto one of them while the doctor did her check.

  “Nothing,” I whispered to him. “I’ll always love you.”

  Zyke nodded, taking a shaky breath as the doctor told him he could relax.

  “Give me just a moment,” she said as she stepped out of the room.

  Zyke clutched my hand as we waited in silence for a moment before he spoke.

  “I think I want a girl,” he said, surprising me.

  “What?” I asked, blinking at him.

  “If I’m pregnant. I hope it’s a girl.”

  I nodded a slow smile spreading on my lips. “I could live with a girl. I mean, I don’t really know any, so we might have to read up on them.”

  Zyke chuckled. “They aren’t aliens.”

  “Aren’t they kind of though?” I teased, and Zyke shushed me as the doctor walked back in.

  I held my breath, and I could feel Zyke’s own anticipation mingled with mine.

  She smiled at us, handing Zyke a sheet of bloodwork. "Congratulations," she said. "You're pregnant."

  20

  Zyke

  Once it was confirmed that I was pregnant, Omar went into hardcore planning mode. I could tell he was worried about what my family would do if they found out, and the sooner he got me on the throne the better seemed to be his attitude.

  I trusted him. He was the one who had the expertise. I was just waiting for his plan, trying to follow along and not mess anything up.

  There was no time to back down or let fear get in the way. Omar was determined, and I was determined not to let him down. Or let the people down. All the reasons I wanted to be king were still the same, and I owed it to them to follow through.

  I turned the page in my book, stroking Omar’s head while I read up on the fundamentals of healthcare. He was checked out, completely in his head as he planned, his ear pressed against my stomach to ‘keep him motivated’ as he liked to say. I was only a few weeks along, but he was already enamored with the little seed in my belly.

  Secretly, I was a little, too. In my head, I was desperately hoping for a little girl with his smile and determination. My family was all boys, and most of them were monsters. I wanted something different, but the more I let myself want it, the more afraid I was to lose it. I kept trying to push the terror down, trying to remind myself that Omar would die before he let anything happen to me or our baby, but that just scared me more. I couldn’t lose him, either.

  "We have to move back into the palace," Omar said, his head popping up to look at me.

  He shifted to lay beside me, cuddling me into his side and resting a hand protectively over my belly.

  "We do?" I asked, frowning. I’d follow his lead, but leaving our little apartment, our home, made me sad. We’d carved out a little slice of peace for ourselves only to leave it now and move back into an emotional war zone. I knew going back would just make my brothers even more vicious, considering I'd had the gall to leave in the first place, and I wasn't looking forward to that at all.

  "Yeah, we do," Omar replied. "We need to be closer to them. And the people need to see you taking steps to secure what's yours."

  I sighed and nodded. "Okay."

  "Hey," he said, looking down and tipping my chin up so I had to look at him. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. None of them will lay a hand on you, I swear it. Okay? You'll be safe, and it'll only be bad for a little while. I don't plan to draw this out."

  I believed him completely. He'd never let me down, and I knew he didn't plan to start then.

  I sighed as we grabbed out things from the back of the cab. Omar had only let me pack what I absolutely needed, and I was already feeling anxious without my comfort items.

  “It’s all going to be okay,” Omar said, obviously sensing my anxiety. “I’ve got you,” he promised, taking my hand.

  I gave his hand a quick squeeze and then pulled out of his grip. Things were already going to be bad, we didn’t need to make them worse. I just hoped to the gods Ezra had been as sincere as he seemed and not told our
father about me and Omar. It was one thing for him to suspect we were together, but to get a report from one of his sons was going to make everything so much worse.

  I tried to carry myself more confidently as we headed up the stairs into the entrance hall. The guards and soldiers were all watching as we walked in, their eyes lingering on Omar distrustfully.

  They didn't like me, either, but they couldn't touch me because I was still one of the king's sons.

  I kept my back straight and my eyes ahead, and I could tell they were all surprised. Usually, I was trying to disappear into the shadows or find a corner to hide in, but not this time.

  Omar seemed pleased, a little smile on his face as he walked a few paces behind me, following me up the stairs and down the hall to the war room.

  My fingers trembled a bit as I went for the door, and Omar put a hand on the small of my back to steady me.

  "You can do this," he murmured.

  I nodded and opened the door.

  My father was the only one inside, and I breathed a little sigh of relief at that. He would be the hardest to convince to let us come back, but at least we wouldn't have an audience while we did it. My brothers could only make things worse by being there.

  Father was every inch a king as he sat there in his royal colors, looking us over with disinterested eyes.

  "So," he said. "You've come back to your senses and come home, I see. Good. I was going to send soldiers after you, but now I don't have to waste the resources."

  He waved a hand like he was dismissing me, and I bristled. "No," I said. "I'm not back yet. I'm willing to come back to stay, but not without Omar."

  Father narrowed his eyes, looking from me to Omar who stood behind me, silent and stoic once again.

  "I fired him," Father said. "He's lucky he didn't get hanged for what he did."

  "I know," I replied. "But I don't feel safe here without him. I don't have to stay. I can turn around and walk right back out."

  It was a bluff, yes, because we needed to be in the palace, but my father didn't know that. And he wouldn't expect something like that from me anyway. I was already behaving out of character, and it seemed to have him off guard from the way he kept glancing between the two of us, not sure who he was supposed to be more concerned about in the moment.

  That felt nice. To actually be taken seriously for once.

  "He can come back," my father finally said, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers in front of himself. "If he apologizes. For destroying this room and attacking my sons. For making a fool of himself in the home of his betters."

  There was a little self-satisfied smile on his face, and I knew he was assuming Omar's pride would never allow him to lower himself to do something like that.

  Honestly, I wasn't sure if he could do it, either. I could feel a flare of anger rise in him, and for a moment, I was concerned he was going to go for round two, but this time, take on my father.

  I felt it when he moved out from behind me, coming around to stand next to me.

  Surprisingly, he bowed, eyes on the floor. "I apologize, Your Majesty," he said. "For all of my crimes against the crown."

  I blinked and then tried to straighten and hide my surprise. I knew it was all a part of the plan, but I had underestimated just what kind of torture Omar was willing to endure for me and our child.

  My father looked taken aback as well, and he narrowed his eyes once more. But he'd already said Omar could stay if he apologized, so he just huffed and waved a hand.

  "Fine. But if it happens again, I will kill you,” he promised Omar. “Both of you,” he added, and I felt another white, hot flare of anger from Omar. “Now get out of my sight."

  We didn't need to be told twice.

  Our old rooms were just like we'd left them, and even though I'd lived in the palace my whole life, it felt strange to be back after spending time in our apartment in the city.

  My suite was twice the size of our apartment, but somehow, it felt smaller. We didn't have the same freedoms, but like Omar kept telling me, it wasn't going to last for long. He didn't plan to wait around.

  Omar was a man who made his own opportunities, and I knew he had things planned.

  I didn't want to know, really. Part of me wondered if that was cowardly, to not want to know the details of how he was going to kill my father and my brothers.

  I felt like if I was going to be involved, then I should have the stomach to deal with it, but I just didn't want to know. And Omar was more than happy to keep the details from me, worried about stressing me out while I carried our child.

  As I settled onto my bed, Ezra poked his head into my room.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.” I shifted as an awkward silence settled between us. “Thanks for not telling father about...you know.”

  He nodded. “Thanks for not telling him I came to see you.”

  I blinked. “Of course. I would never.”

  He laughed a little. “I almost forgot how different you were,” he said. “This palace is dog-eat-dog, nobody else would pass up the opportunity to throw someone under the bus.”

  I sighed. “Doesn’t that bother you? We’re supposed to be family, and we live like animals tearing each other apart.”

  He shrugged. “It is what it is. You get used to it. Adapt or die.”

  I stood up. Ezra was only a few years older than me, and I couldn’t imagine in four years that I would have ever just ‘gotten used’ to the way our brothers and father behaved.

  “I’m still alive,” I argued.

  He nodded. “You are. But we can’t all be you.” He sighed. “Hey, look. I’m glad you’re back but…”

  I waved my hand, immediately understanding. Me moving back in changed things. The Ezra that was proud of me would have to disappear.

  “Yeah, I get it,” I said. “It sucked...but I get it. Adapt or die, right.”

  Ezra gave me a sad nod. “Yeah.” He moved to duck out of my room, and I stared after him for a moment feeling an ache in my heart for him.

  Omar would be setting both of us free soon. Ezra could find his peace the same way I had when I found Omar. I wanted that for him. For both of us.

  Rehan and the others were flat out ignoring me, pretending like I didn't exist to them when I passed them in the halls or saw them at meals.

  That suited me fine. I didn't have anything to say to them anyway.

  Maybe they saw me as a traitor for leaving with Omar when he'd attacked them. Maybe they had just run out of cruel things to do and say. Either way, I wasn't hurting for not having to deal with them.

  We had been back in the palace for a week, and I was starting to find a rhythm for it again, but I was spending way too much time away from Omar for my taste. But today, I got to be with him.

  He held me against him as he disappeared into his thoughts.

  A scream echoed through the palace, pulling him back to reality, and I jumped off the bed.

  “Is it starting?” I asked, my heart racing in my chest when he gave me a slow nod.

  “Go back to your room,” he said firmly, and I quickly moved to obey.

  I stayed in there until one of the maids came bursting in. “Your Highness! You're needed in the infirmary immediately."

  I nodded and followed behind her.

  When I got to the infirmary, my father, Mykel, Ezra, and Ellis were all gathered around outside, and my father was shaking. I couldn't tell if it was with rage or some other emotion, but he didn't look happy.

  "Poison," he muttered, his hands clenched into fists. "It has to be. The two of them were in the prime of their lives. There's no other explanation."

  “For what?” I asked, trying to force myself to keep my breaths even.

  Rehan and Avi usually ate breakfast together and then went to work out together in the palace gym. They had done that for the last several years that I could remember, unless one of them was busy or sick.

  I never went to the dining hall during that
time because I didn't want to hear anything from them, and they were worse together, so father knew that I wouldn’t have been there.

  "They're dead!" Mykel spat. "They were eating breakfast one minute, and the next, they were gone. Convulsions, foaming at the mouth. They're gone."

  He punched the wall and then stormed off, leaving the rest of us standing there.

  My eyes were wide, and I knew I looked shocked. I was shocked, really. Even though it was all a part of the plan and I knew Omar was behind it, it was still hard to swallow that two of my brothers were dead. That I’d been part of it. That this was all really happening.

  I wouldn't miss them, not after how they'd treated me, but it was still hard to wrap my head around.

  Ellis and Ezra were silent, and my father fumed. "I want all the cooks fired," he snapped. "Every one of them. Someone let this happen to my family, and I want to know who it was!"

  He stormed off in the direction Mykel had gone, and I peeked into the infirmary through the window, glancing at the pale, still bodies of my two brothers, now dead.

  A weird energy fell over the palace after that morning. None of the servants had ever liked my family, and most of the guards only served out of fear. Rehan and Avi had been cruel to everyone who wasn't like them, and I was pretty sure no one was really going to miss them outside of the family.

  News got out to the people that two of the princes were dead, and there were rumors of celebrations being held, which just put my father in a worse mood.

  He cracked down harder, sending out sanctions that kept people from gathering in groups larger than ten, taking his anger out on the people, like he usually did.

  "Not for much longer," Omar muttered to me as he held me in his arms in his room. All of our moments together seemed more and more critical as the days dragged on. As more and more things started happening.

  Two days later, Mykel went missing.

  "What do you mean, you haven't seen him?" Father roared in the face of the servant who had been sent to fetch my second oldest brother. Well, first oldest with the death of Rehan.