Masked Prince (Fated Royals 2)

If any part of the rumor was true, and she could order an infant set on fire, she’d fucking destroy my father’s legacy and revel in watching the kingdom burn.

But that still didn’t mean I wanted the job. “There’s got to be someone else.”

My father deadpanned me and flared his nostrils. “Ah, yes. One of my thousand other sons fathered out of wedlock. I’ll just send a flock of carrier pigeons and give the crown to whichever one shows up first, shall I?”

It was good to see that even though he felt like shit, he hadn’t lost his acid sense of humor.

I blew out a long breath and stood, walking over to the window. This fucking life of mine. I had just started to figure out a balance between being a faceless royal and a man who could live and love. I had just started to let myself begin dreaming about a life with Iris.

And now this. Motherfuck it.

It broke my goddamned heart—not just my father’s illness, but what it meant for me and Iris, too. If I ascended to the throne, marrying Iris would be impossible. Any match I made would have to be planned and strategic, as my father’s marriage had been. Equal parts strategy and fucking misery. Great. Worse still, I’d never know the pleasures of Iris’ body. I’d never know how she sounded when she came so hard she cried.

My father had taught me about sacrifice. Even our damned family crest said it: “All for the kingdom, always for the kingdom.” Becoming king would mean I couldn’t be with Iris.

But as long as I was in power, I could guarantee her safety and well-being, and as best I could her happiness. I could still fucking obsess over her, every waking hour of every fucking day. Even if I couldn’t have her, I could take some fucking comfort in knowing she was safe and wanted for nothing.

But if she married someone else, I’d lose my motherfucking mind. Some other son of a bitch, putting his hands on my woman? The very idea made me want to punch the fucking walls. I could feel the sting of the stone on my knuckles already.

And yet, I wanted her happy. I wanted her fulfilled. I just didn’t want some other guy anywhere near her. The idea of her fathering some other asshole’s child? I’d kill him; didn’t matter who it was. Absolutely fucking positively not an option.

Christ almighty. All that would have to wait. For now, I had to deal with what was in front of me. If I were to be king, it would be on my terms: no strategic marriages, that was for goddamned sure. I loved a woman who I couldn’t marry, so I wouldn’t marry at all. I hated the idea, fucking hated it. But the way I felt didn’t change a goddamned thing.

I thought for a moment of bringing her here. Making her my mistress. But the thought sickened me. Mistresses were common and discarded as trash and treated as such by the court.

As was my own mother.

No, I could not do that to Iris. I could not have her if not in the bright light of day.

“But will the kingdom even accept a bastard prince? Will they accept this as their ruler?” I pointed to my face.

“They will,” he said, calm and certain. “You need to let them see you. Get rid of the mask. Show yourself. If you’re patient with them, they’ll be patient with you. And they’ll love you, just like I do.” He made a fist and pressed it to his heart. “I swear it.”

I turned away again. He’d told me that before, but I’d never believed him until now, thanks to Iris. She had accepted me—she had shown me that maybe I wasn’t so fucking horrifying as I’d always thought. I went back to the passion of our kiss and the white-hot need I felt when I was near her. I let it run through me like straight whiskey. Every fucking drop of that heat filled me, until my whole body fucking burned with the pain of loving her.

We were doomed. My life would be agony without her; but better to have tasted her once than never at all.

This was what fate had dealt me. It was my duty to accept it. And so I turned to my father, reached out my hand to clasp his arm, and nodded.

“If it’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

He squeezed my forearm, his old strength returning to his grip, and he smiled.

“Long live my son. Long live the King.”

Chapter 7

Randal

My heart was heavy as hell as I left my father’s bedchamber and put on my mask. He told me he was sure he’d see me again, and I fucking hoped so, but I had no idea if it was true. I took a deep breath to steel myself and then passed the guards outside his room.