Malicious Prince: A Reverse Harem Romance (Territorial Mates Book 3)

by Mary E. Twomey

  She reaches over the divide between us and jerks the tumbler from my hand. “Amateur. You handle your liquor like a schoolboy.” She downs my glass in one swallow, to which I applaud, because I’m just that drunk. “I married an ass, but I’ll be damned if I raised one as well.” She holds up the glass and taps it with her painted fingernail. “So tell me, to what are we drinking on this fine evening?”

  “To the end of my marriage!” I slap on a grin filled with malice and slide the flask from my pocket, toasting her empty glass with it.

  I expect her to relax at the news and maybe even chuckle, but she sits up straight, her mouth firm with disapproval. “What did you do?”

  I scoff. “I love that you assume I’m to blame. Lily lied to me.” I wait for the big ah-ha moment where Mother takes back her assumption that it’s all my fault, but it never comes.

  “So? How many lies have you told this week?”

  “Hardly any at all. That’s not the point. Lily lied to me. Me.”

  “Why did she lie to you?”

  It’s not the question I anticipate, so for a second, I’m stumped. “She did something terrible, and never told me about it. Something so bad, I can’t get past it. But it’s not what she did; it’s that she hid it from me.”

  “Why did she lie to you?” Mother repeats, as if the question is worth saying a second time.

  “Lily should’ve trusted me. She should’ve come clean and told me everything. I deserve to know who I’m marrying!”

  “Did I deserve to get cut out of my son’s wedding?”

  “What? We’re not talking about that. It’s neither here nor there. Lily and I did what we had to.”

  “Did I deserve it?”

  I slump back in my seat and take another glug from my flask. “I suppose not. I was livid with Father, not you. I suppose you want me to apologize?”

  She’s quiet for a moment. So quiet, I’m worried that maybe I’ve gone too far and truly hurt my own mother, whose biggest mistake today was coming out to sit with her prick of a son. “What I want is for you to be happy. Answer me, Alexavier. Why did Lilya lie to you?”

  I stare at the moon, which looks larger than usual. It’s peaceful, reminding me that I am not. It mocks me, and I have no choice but to let it look down on me like it knows best. I chew on my lower lip as I mull over Mother’s question she won’t stop asking. “Lilya lied because she accidentally did something horrible, and she didn’t want me to hate her for it. How could she think so little of me?”

  “Well, how did you handle it when she came clean?”

  “I ended things.”

  Mother takes my flask and pours some into the glass she’s stolen from me. “Smart girl, then. One lie to cover over an accident, and her marriage gets jerked out from under her. Best she gets out now before she falls too hard for you.”

  I balk at my mother, who’s finally got something to say. “I beg your pardon? You’re glad it’s over for her sake? You’re happy for her?”

  “Wouldn’t you be? To think, a marriage can end the week it begins because a woman says something that displeases the crown.”

  The way Mother says “the crown” sounds like she’s making fun of me, like I’m snooty and think I’m above Lilya. Nothing could be further from the case. “Lilya lied to me.”

  “And you kicked her out. Where is she staying?”

  I shrug, and the first pangs of dread fight through the alcohol to twist at my stomach. I should’ve asked where she’d be staying. “Probably with Salem in Jacoba.”

  “Probably?” Mother sits up straighter, as if she’s grown a spine out of thin air. “Your family lies once, and you don’t even care enough to make sure they’ve got somewhere safe to sleep? You sent her off with a shifter? I didn’t know you had such cruelty in you, Alexavier.”

  “Cruelty? I sent her off with Salem and Destino. That’s hardly cruel.”

  “And where are they staying?”

  “I told you, I don’t know. Probably in Jacoba.”

  “After what her face looks like? A shifter scarred her, Alexavier! You abandoned her to a man who had no choice but to take her back into shifter territory? The place she barely escaped alive when she was a girl?” It’s then I see Mother’s truly angry at me, hurt that I’m disappointing her grand expectations that I not end up like…

  Dread washes over me. Am I like my father?

  Mother’s tone calms, but there’s a deadly disapproval that coats every word. “I’m so glad you brought her here, announced her to the whole of Faveda as your wife, and then deserted her, sending one of our own off into shifter territory. If there was ever any doubt that you’re your father’s son…”

  “Don’t say it,” I warn her through gritted teeth. “Lilya will be safe with Salem.”

  “Until she tells Salem her dirty secret, that is. Then will he kick her out as well?”

  My mouth goes dry. Guilt so powerful that even alcohol can’t subdue it crashes into me. “He knows. So does Des. She told us together.”

  The silence that falls between us says a great many things. Mother lets my conscience fill in the gaps for a solid minute before she speaks. “Then I’m glad she escaped you. She deserves to be happy after what her father put her through. Salem and Destino actually care about her.”

  “I care about her, Mother.”

  “No, you care about yourself. You care about being right. About winning the argument. You put your sore feelings above her actual safety. If I raised you at all, I see no traces of it now.” She stands and takes my flask. “Your father can have you.”

  Then my mother leaves me with the torrent of worry that comes from second-guessing myself. She walks slowly with her head high, and though I’m angry with her for bringing up too many valid points, I realize my mother finally spoke for herself, and I couldn’t be more proud of her for the victory.

  It takes me an entire five minutes before I move into the palace and trip down the hallway to my mother’s bedroom. “Mother, I shouldn’t have…” But I’m not sure what I’m seeing when I open her door. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Mother straightens, and then shoves a stack of folded clothing in to an overnight bag. “My daughter-in-law sent word from Jacoba this morning, asking the rulers to meet to discuss future plans for peace between the territories.”

  “You knew that’s where she was?”

  “Yes. I wanted to see if you knew who was looking after your wife. Lilya wants to talk strategy for unification, so that’s where I’m headed.”

  “It’s not going to work. Father wants nothing of the sort.”

  “Your father didn’t get a chance to read the note. I intercepted it, so I’m taking myself a little vacation. I might happen by the mansion in Jacoba, and I might happen to sign whatever peace agreement I’m presented with.”

  My whole body comes to life at the prospect of my mother involving herself in what can only be described as espionage of the highest degree. “You can’t do that, Mother. Father will never go along with it.”

  “I think you’re forgetting, as your father often does, that I’m the Queen of Faveda. My signature is just as binding. It’s only your perception of my power that’s weak, not my power itself.”

  “How much have you had to drink today?” I ask slowly, wary of something I never saw coming.

  The first sign of nerves gives my mother a shiver, but she doesn’t back down. “Not nearly enough, but I suppose I should be mildly clearheaded when I go to a meeting with King Ronin, my daughter, and the Butcher boys.”

  My head turns slowly from left to right, but even as I think up reasons why she shouldn’t go against my father in such a big way, the prospect of it excites me. “Maybe I should go with you. Be your escort.”

  Mother sniffs in my direction. “I’ll not put Lilya through having to see your face. You betrayed her. You’re a boy with a pout. She’s a woman with a plan.”

  I take two steps into her room, my twisting stomach finally settling the
moment I make the decision I know I’ll never be able to undo. I may not be ready to see Lilya, but I know I need to. I want to. “Then I should bring her flowers. Apologies always go better when there’s a gift involved.”

  Mother lifts her chin. “I suppose I can’t stop you from trying to rectify the utter mess you’ve made of the best thing that ever happened to you.” Insecurity flashes in her blue eyes. “Quickly, Alexavier. Pack your bag and meet me in secret in the stables. I’ll be gone in five minutes, with or without you. If your father finds out, I will be punished most severely.”

  I reach out and hold my mother’s hand, only to find it’s trembling. “He won’t stop us. And when we come back, you’ll stay with Lilya and me, so you’ll never have to look at father’s face again.”

  She closes her eyes, and for a second, I’m concerned she might cry. “I love you, my boy. Let’s go change the world.”

  13

  Mother and Brother

  Lilya

  It’s five days since Salem left, and I’ve given up hope there can be anything good that comes from this. I don’t want to pine, but stuck indoors as I am, there’s precious little else for me to do.

  Ronin will be here tonight. It’s my one shining thought that keeps me from slipping into dark places in my mind. I called a meeting of the rulers, since apparently, that’s something I’m allowed to do. If we want a real shot at peace, we have to actually all be able to sit in a room together and plan for it.

  I make my way down to Queen Butcher’s room while Des is having his daily visit from Healer Wesley down the hall to try and fix his arm. It’s my daily habit, sitting on the floor with my back leaning against her tall bedside. I open the copy of the history of Jacoba and rest it on the stone floor. I read it aloud to Queen Butcher, who doesn’t judge me for the remedial education I never had the opportunity to further. I pretend she’s my mother who listens and smiles at me even when I stumble over words every ten-year-old knows. I study daily, willing myself not to get frustrated or overwhelmed. Even if Salem is only marrying me because he wants peace in the land, I’m still responsible to care for the shifters. I can’t very well do that if I don’t know who they are or where this great people came from.

  I can’t stand the stench of the incense that hovers in the air in this small space. The sandalwood pierces my nose in ways that stay with me hours after I’m gone from this room.

  I’m freezing. Always freezing. The stone surfaces offer no heat or cushion, so it is what it is. The rooms and hallways are drafty, and when the wind blows, I feel the howl and bite of the breeze that makes me shudder.

  When the door opens, I jump, but my shoulders lower when Justice enters. “Ye always look like someone’s about to attack ye whenever you’re startled. Thought I might find ye here.”

  “Did you need something?”

  “Lots of somethings,” he admits with a tired smile. He does that a lot, smiles in a way that makes it look like he’s forgotten how, but it’s still buried deep inside of him somewhere just out of reach. “Salem sent word tha he’s at the barracks and taking care of some personal matters. He’ll be back in a few days.”

  I nod, accepting with a grimace the salty pill that Salem sends messages he’s too busy to tell me himself. He’s gone, and I’m the afterthought. I’m only here because of him, and now I’m stuck in this freezing house, trying to figure out why and where I’m supposed to belong.

  “Doing a bit of light reading, I see. It’s decent of ye to come read to my mammy. I admit I’m not the incredible son I used to fancy myself. It’s hard to be in this room. See her here, but not.” His eyes flit to the thick, worn book sitting on the floor before my crossed legs. “I can get ye a tutor, if ye like.”

  I stiffen. “What do you mean?”

  He runs his hand over his face, looking very much like Salem. “I mean, I listen in on ye from time to time, and I hear ye stumbling over words. They don’t have schools in Neutral Territory. Did ye drop out before ye got shipped there?”

  “I was eight,” I tell him, unwilling to go more into the story I loathe.

  The silence that hangs between us is thick with his unasked questions. I’m on my guard against them, which I’m guessing he can sense, because the only thing he mutters is, “General Klein’s a mangey bastard for abandoning his daughter there so young. Ye only know the worst parts of us, having grown up in Neutral Territory. Let me get ye a tutor.”

  I do my best to iron out the attitude I feel flaring, offering him a polite head-tilt. “I highly doubt any of your people are going to be thrilled to educate a fae. I can read just fine. You can do all sorts of things without an education.”

  “Fair point. You’ve proved tha.” His eyes flick to the text. “It’s been a long day, and it’s not even noon. I hate tha ye asked for a meeting of the rulers. They’ll be here soon, and I’m already on edge.”

  I’m not thrilled when he lowers himself to sit beside me, but he does it anyway.

  I flip the page and scowl at the words, so I don’t accidentally glare at Justice. “Stinking Territorials. Get used to working together. Solving your lands’ problems on your own has never worked. You all have me in common now, whether you like it or not. Ronin’s great.” I ignore Justice’s huff of disbelief. “King Fairbucks is awful, granted, but he won’t always be on the throne. Your people are going to die if they don’t get fresh water. The only way to make that happen is by lowering the borders.”

  He leans his head against the side of the mattress. It’s a little comical, a prince sitting on the floor like this. He sighs loudly. “Read to me? Tha might calm my nerves about this whole thing.”

  I’m nervous now. Queen Butcher doesn’t correct me or huff when I get something wrong. Of course, she can’t do any of that, but I get to pretend I’m smart enough to impress her by my epic out-loud reading. Justice, on the other hand, hasn’t held back his opinions about me, reminding me daily how I very much don’t belong here, and that I will not be a good match for his brother. There isn’t aggression to his honesty, which I guess is good, but as my eyes skim the first line when I pick up the book, my palms begin to sweat.

  “‘1864 – The Year of the Cashing Mo-moun-moun-mountain.’” I sound like an idiot. This will be the thing that seals it. He’ll know for sure I’m not good enough for his brother now.

  Justice looks over my shoulder and nods. “‘Crashing,’” he corrects me, not unkindly.

  “Right. ‘The Year of the Crashing Mountain. In the fourth month, Stephen Pruitt, a fae, crossed over into Jacoba. In an effort to take out the shifter people, he soug? Soft?”

  “Sought,” Justice says. This time he takes my finger and traces the letters in the middle. “Tha’s a confusing word to sound out. Makes more sense the way ye said it.”

  He takes my finger and covers up the middle letters this time, so I can see the word as it’s meant to be pronounced.

  “He sought to bring Mount Prowl down on our heads. Thirty shifters were killed in the avalanche, twelve injured. A law was enacted that no home should be built within fifty yards of a mountain hencef…hence…”

  “Henceforth. Tha’s a stuffy word tha means from now on.”

  I fight the urge to tell him I know what ‘henceforth’ means; I just don’t know how to spell or read it. Instead, I point to the text. “Does this get amended later on? The rule isn’t still like this, is it?”

  Justice sighs. “I know ye don’t like to think the fae are capable of mass-murder, but it’s true. We keep laws in place tha make sure shifters live to see another day.”

  I shake my head, swallowing my confession that he’s sitting right next to a fae mass-murderer. “It’s not that. This isn’t enough distance from the mountain, is all. Fifty yards will work fine for your average fae with a vendetta, but if you get one that’s gifted, that’s not enough space.”

  Justice’s eyebrows knit together. He inches closer to peer at the text. “How much space? If we’re contemplating lowering our border
walls and inviting the enemy in, we need to be prepared for stuff like this.”

  “You’re not inviting the enemy in. If you do, that’s all you’ll get. You’re inviting new friends in. It’s all in how you view it. You set the tone as their leader.”

  “I won’t say it to them like tha.”

  “You think shifters are stupid enough not to spot a lie? Maybe I think more of your people than you do.” I shake my head at him.

  Of all things, Justice chuckles at me. “Then what do ye propose, wee ruler?”

  “Moving people out of the homes that are too close to the mountain, for one. And at some point, it would be nice to see a map of Jacoba. Then we can ask strategically for what we want from the fae, instead of just taking whatever they give us.”

  “I guess I didn’t think of tha. I don’t have as much faith as ye do in us coming together.”

  “Then let’s plan. How many plumapples are you willing to part with?”

  Justice’s eyebrows raise. “Already negotiating, are we?”

  “We have strengths. Even though we don’t have enough water, we’re not without assets.”

  “Ho, it’s ‘we’ now, is it? You’re an honorary shifter, are ye, wee mongrel?” He grins, and for a second, I forget that he doesn’t want me near his brother. He looks at me like we might be alright someday when the dust on all this unorthodox change settles.

  “That’s right. My animal is whatever scares irritating wolves into playing nice.”

  His chest vibrates as he gets up and fishes around in the nightstand drawer. He pulls out a pencil and parchment, spreading it out on the floor. He narrates his drawings as he lays out the whole of Jacoba for me in squiggles and lines, telling me where the larger populations of people reside, where the ground needs the most work, and any giant obstructions, like mountains or steep canyons.

  “How many wells would you want near the main village? Maybe six?” I suggest, and he draws six circles. “But you want growth for the kingdom. It’s not good for shifters to be all crowded on top of each other. Many of them probably prefer rural settings. Let’s have a dozen more further out, so there’s room for the population to explode.”