Masked Prince (Fated Royals 2)

He looked worse than ever. Seeing him made my fucking heart sink. How much pain can one man feel?

I pulled up a chair beside his bed and said, “No fucking way are you leaving this room today. You’re not strong enough.”

My father chortled. “You’re telling me I look like shit?”

I cleared my throat and tried to wake up. “Stop busting my balls.”

“You’re as big a pain in the ass as I was at your age. You’ll make a damned fine ruler. Just don’t be an asshole about it.”

He slung his legs out of bed, wincing, and I wrapped my arm around his body to help him up. His eyes were cloudy, fogged over. I’d only ever seen that once before in my life. It was an old dog we had, an old wolf hound that had grown up with me. The day he died he’d woken up looking like that in the eyes, like there was mist between him and the world.

“Father. I mean it. There’s no need for you to be there. You can see everything from your window.”

“Christ almighty, son. Do I look like a guy that watches life happen from windows? I’m going to put my crown on you myself, end of conversation,” he grumbled.

Fuck. He sounded just like me. In spite of myself, I laughed a little and he did, too. Damn it, my life wouldn’t be the same without him. I wouldn’t be the same without him.

“I’m gonna fucking miss you,” I said, with tears stinging my nose. In the last five days, I’d cried more than I ever thought a man could fucking cry. As I shut my eyes to pull myself together, the life I wouldn’t have spread out in front of me. Houses full of Iris’ children that my father would never know. That I would never know. That soul-shaking love I’d never feel again.

More grumbling. “Listen here,” he said, turning away from me to take a piss in his chamber pot. “You start crying now, I’ll start crying. And what kind of fucking kings would we be, weeping over each other, eh?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the tears, now smiling in spite of myself yet again. He always could bust through even my toughest defenses.

“Fine, you old bastard.”

He finished at the chamber pot and then pulled up his britches.

“That’s my line. Now go get your ass dressed properly and let’s do this thing. And remember,” my father said, taking a few steps toward me. “Remember today and remember tomorrow, remember forever that she is with you. Your mother has always been with me and Iris will always be with you. I may not have done what was right always, I should have done more to protect both of you, knowing there were many in Patara’s household that wanted you both dead. I doubt that any of them set the fire that burned you, I doubt Patara ordered your mother poisoned, I expect it was, as the investigations concluded, just a random chill that took your mother and a coincidence that Elaina’s house went up in flames a few days later. Either way, I’ll take the guilt of not protecting both of you with me, even into my death. I’m sorry you will carry some of that same pain for Iris.”

Fuck almighty, the pain that thinking about her caused me. It was almost unbearable. I gritted my teeth and nodded, not even fighting the fucking tears now.

“But, my son, you must realize, until you produce an heir, you will be in danger. Iris can be with you always, but you must take a wife. You must. She is with you,” he said, sounding certain as I’d ever heard him, giving me our old handshake one more time. “I promise. She’s always with you. And I will be, too. Who knows, maybe I’ll finally get to meet her when I leave this mortal coil. But, you must put the kingdom first. The kingdom comes before all else.”

The storm broke and the crowds began gathering outside the palace in the early afternoon. The ancient coronation stone of the kings of Aramoor stood on a terrace in front of the great square. My father and I waited behind the door that stood in front of the terrace, him fixing my collar and me fixing his.

All around us hustled my father’s men and servants. Behind us had gathered his entourage; his sisters were there, his cousins—I knew them, but not well. I was the shameful bastard son in their eyes, and I was not someone who ever encouraged closeness, both because of the way I looked and the way I acted.

But I was grateful that they were there. And grateful that ours was a loyal family, and not a person among them had threatened my father’s power. Nor would they threaten mine.