Page 1 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
Prologue
The citizens of Bane were too drunk to enjoy the midnight fireworks. Good food and good drink were abundant as the kingdom celebrated the five-year anniversary of their crown prince’s marriage to Prince Frederick of Woe. The marriage was the last component needed to complete the Kingdom Defense Spell protecting the five kingdoms of the Desolated Lands from evil forces for another generation. Naturally, everyone believed the anniversary belonged to them as much as it did the married couple.
The couple themselves had snuck away a few hours into the festivities to enjoy a private celebration. They escaped to the top-most room of a magic tower, where no one could disturb them. While red sparks lit the night sky, red ropes bound Rick to reinforced hooks above their headboard.
Brendon straddled his husband, examining his handiwork. After years of marriage, he’d gotten quite good at tying the ropes into intricate patterns without relying on magical assistance. Tight enough to redden Rick’s bronze skin without cutting off circulation. Brendon knew he’d done an excellent job when Rick squirmed under him, rubbing his rock-hard erection against the curve of Brendon’s ass.
A wicked gleam entered Brendon’s eyes, and he leaned forward, shifting closer to Rick’s mouth while pulling away from his cock, denying him any release. Rick groaned, his tongue thrusting between Brendon’s lips, mimicking the other pleasures he’d been denied.
Brendon chuckled and reached between them, either to tease Rick or offer some minor relief, he hadn’t decided yet.
A bell jangled above their heads.
Rick had installed the doorbell a few years ago because his mother-in-law complained that they never answered her knocks. The enchanted tower door only opened for Brendon and Rick except in emergencies, but some people had different definitions of ‘emergency.’ After the second time she’d let herself into the tower on the power of a mother’s worry alone, Rick decided they needed proper warning of her arrival.
He closed his eyes and groaned, “Please tell me they aren’t expecting us to give a speech.”
“There was nothing on the agenda.”
The bell rang again, more insistently this time.
“Alright, untie me so we can deal with this.”
“No need,” Brendon said, keeping his voice casual. “I’ll tell our visitors you’reindisposed.”
Slight panic widened Rick’s eyes, and he writhed against his bindings. “You can’t leave me tied up when we have visitors!”
Brendon ignored him and grabbed a gag from the side table, thrusting it between Rick’s teeth, using enough force to assert dominance without hurting his husband. “Be right back, don’t make too much noise.”
“Brndn!”
Brendon hadn’t undressed yet—being fully clothed while Rick was completely naked excited both of them—so he left the room without delay, closing the bedroom door behind him. He paused to listen for Rick’s safe word. Even with the gag, 'pestilence’ could be said clearly, ending the scene. If Rick really wanted to stop, he would say it without hesitation.
Some muffled curses continued, but that was all. Despite Rick’s protests, he enjoyed the game.
Grinning, Brendon thought the interruption might be worth it—if he could move the visitor along quickly. He hurried down the stairs and opened the door to see who had disturbed their night.
A guard stood outside, steady on his feet. He and the other guards on duty might be the only sober adults left in the kingdom.
Beside the guard stood a young child in rumpled clothes, their face smeared with dirt and their bright blue eyes wide with unease. Red hair, similar to Brendon’s, stuck out from their head like a wild flame.
“Your Highness,” the guard began, expression grave. “This child claims to be yours.”
Brendon stared at the child in shock for a long time, then in a dazed voice replied, “Give me a moment.” He slammed the door in the guard’s face and ran upstairs to untie his husband.
Rick’s eyes lit up when Brendon opened the door. Once the gag was removed, he purred in a low, husky voice, “You’re absolutely evil.”
Brendon silently untied his handiwork with trembling fingers.
“What’s wrong?” Rick’s excitement faded as his husband remained silent. “Pestilence.”
The ropes untwisted, falling limp as they released him. In his haste, Brendon had forgotten that they were enchanted.
“Brendon, calm down,” Rick said, grabbing his husband’s shaking hands and squeezing them to stillness. “Tell me what happened.”
“Child—downstairs—I didn’t know, really, still don’t—”
The rambling sentences caught Rick off guard. Usually, he was the one who struggled to find words in times of distress. “Deep breaths,” he instructed. “I’m going to let go and put some clothes on, alright?”
