by Jasmine Walt
Lucyan’s eyes grew wide, and he leaned in for a sniff as well. “Damn,” he cursed, recoiling as if he smelled something repulsive. “You’ve had sex with Dareena, haven’t you?”
Drystan cringed inwardly—this wasn’t exactly how he wanted this conversation to go. “I don’t think that’s especially relevant right now—”
“Of course it is.” Alistair jumped to his feet. “You’ve given Dareena her first sexual experience. She’s bound to choose you.”
Lucyan snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. The three weeks aren’t up yet, and besides, Drystan wasn’t the first. I gave our sweet little minx her fair share of orgasms the other day.”
It was Drystan’s turn to look surprised. “Did you? She never mentioned that to me.”
Lucyan laughed. “Yes, I’m sure she thought that was a fantastic idea while your hands were up her skirts. Lucky for you she wasn’t screaming my name when you made her come, or you would have a real problem, wouldn’t you?”
Drystan set his jaw. “You’re a real prick sometimes—”
“Enough!” Tariana snapped. “While the three of you are bickering about Dareena’s magic pussy, Shadley is rotting away in the dungeons beneath our feet. I need to check in with my captains in the morning, so I don’t have the luxury of time like you three. If we are going to rescue him, it must happen tonight.”
The brothers exchanged glances. “Very well,” Drystan said. “Does anyone have suggestions as to how to go about this? We might be royalty, but it isn’t as if we can just waltz right in and take Shadley out from beneath the guards’ noses.”
“Actually,” Lucyan said, a slow smile spreading across his face, “I have a plan that might enable us to do exactly that.”
FORTY MINUTES LATER, Drystan was grumbling silently to himself as he crawled through a ventilation tunnel beneath the castle floor. This filthy passageway, if one could call it that, had likely never been cleaned, and he was getting all manner of muck on his clothing. It was a good thing that he’d changed into old clothing for this, but he imagined it would take a week of scrubbing to get all the filth out of his hair and skin when he was through. Why was it that when he drew straws against Lucyan, he always lost? The bastard was cheating somehow, and one day Drystan would catch him in the act.
Still, he could deal with a bit of dirt if it meant saving Shadley’s life. If this was the worst thing Drystan had to complain about in his life, then he was damn lucky.
Drystan did his best to be quiet as he crawled on his hands and knees through the tunnel, but still, his rough clothes scraped against the old stone as he moved. He held his breath as he passed by each of the cells, praying to the dragon god that no prisoner or guard was close enough to hear. Thankfully most of the cells were empty, and the guards were not patrolling the dungeon—they were likely in the guardroom, playing cards and trading stories while one of them stood posted outside the dungeon door.
After what seemed like an eternity, Drystan reached Shadley’s cell. The spymaster was lying on his hard cot, staring listlessly at the ceiling. Drystan felt a twinge of sympathy as he stared down at the man through the grate. He was a loyal servant to the crown—he didn’t deserve to be caged like an animal.
“Shadley,” he hissed, pressing his face as close to the ventilation grate as he dared.
The spymaster bolted upright, looking around. “Who’s there?” he asked in a hushed voice, his gaze darting about.
“Up here!” Drystan stuck his fingers through the grate and waggled them. Shadley’s eyes widened as he finally looked up at the grate, and he climbed up onto his cot so he could peer inside.
“Prince Drystan?” he whispered, astonished. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you.” Drystan fished out Lucyan’s ratty invisibility cloak, which he’d stuffed down his shirt. He slipped it to Shadley through the grate. “This cloak will make you invisible for a short period of time. Put it on the next time you hear someone approach, and don’t make any sound. As soon as the opportunity presents itself, head straight for the Dustman’s Bluff. Help will be waiting for you there.”
“But how—”
“No more talking!” Drystan hissed. “Just get down and follow my orders.”
Shadley nodded, then climbed down and lay down on the cot. Drystan pulled his face back from the grate just enough to ensure nobody could see him, then settled in to wait.
A few minutes later, the door at the end of the hall opened. Shadley quickly put the cloak on as footsteps rasped against the stone floor, and he disappeared from view just as Lucyan and Alistair showed up with a pair of guards.
“What is the meaning of this?” Alistair demanded, rounding on the guards. “I thought you said the prisoner was here!”
“He is!” The guard’s eyes darted nervously toward the cell. “Or at least, he was. I don’t understand how he could have gotten out.”
“The gate is still shut,” the second guard said, examining the lock. “Doesn’t look like it’s been tampered with.”
“What are you, some kind of simpleton?” Lucyan scoffed. “The man is a spymaster. He can break in and out of buildings without leaving a trace behind. He must have smuggled his lock picks in with him.”
“That’s impossible,” the first guard protested. “We searched him thoroughly.”
“Not thoroughly enough,” Alistair said grimly. “Open up the cell. He may have left something inside that will help us figure out where he’s gone.”
The guards exchanged dubious glances but did as Alistair asked. No doubt they feared what would happen if they objected, considering that they’d already “lost” the prisoner. “We’ll have to alert the king,” the second guard said in a worried voice as he opened the cell.
“I’ll go first,” Alistair commanded, nudging the guard aside. He opened the cell door wide. “Men like Shadley are tricky. He may have left behind a trap.”
“All the better for me to go first, my prince,” the guard protested, but Alistair ignored him. He shifted his body subtly, making a space just wide enough for Shadley to slip past, and paused for a few seconds before entering the cell. His gaze met Drystan’s through the grate, and he nodded with a barely discernable dip of his chin.
Satisfied, Drystan crawled the rest of the way through the ventilation tunnel, his brothers making sufficient noise that the guards wouldn’t hear him. He emerged at the other end into a closet that led out to one of the servant passages. Dusting himself off as best he could, he glanced to see if anyone was nearby, then quietly made his way back to his quarters. Part of him wanted to follow Shadley out to the docks and make sure he got there safely, but there was no way to do it without alerting the guard of his departure, and he couldn’t risk that.
No, at this point, Shadley’s life was in Tariana’s hands. She was waiting for him with supplies and would carry him to safety on her way to the front lines. Lucyan and Alistair would lead the search party to ensure that the guards didn’t catch up with Shadley. With nothing more to do except fret, Drystan returned to his rooms to wash off the evidence of his crime and pray that his father never learned the truth about what they had done tonight.
22
The next morning, Alistair and Lucyan were summoned to the king’s chambers.
They stood in silence as the king sat at his breakfast table, watching him as he tore into a quail. The bird’s juices dripped down his chin and fingers as he devoured the animal, tearing strips of meat off the bones before he broke them in half and sucked out the marrow. There was an array of food spread on the table as well—potatoes, vegetables, and a bowl of fresh fruit.
It took everything Alistair had to hold his tongue.
He knew damn well why the king had dragged them here after they’d both spent a sleepless night thinking about what they’d done, worrying if Shadley had made it to Dustman’s Bluff and if Tariana had carried him to safety. There was no way to know until she returned—she would not risk sending a message by parchment, even
a coded one. They would just have to deal with the agonizing suspense in the meantime.
Alistair risked a glance toward Lucyan, who stood next to him. His brother looked relaxed, almost bored, but Alistair knew that beneath his lackadaisical manner his brother was just as nervous as he. Was it possible their father had found out what they had done? Had he already recaptured Shadley and made the spymaster sing the details of his escape?
“My guards reported something interesting to me last night,” the king said, finally breaking the silence.
“Oh?” Lucyan asked, sounding just as bored as he looked. “Have they captured an elven spy? Someone we can interrogate?”
Their father wiped his fingers with a napkin. “Don’t play games with me, Lucyan,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “You and Alistair paid a visit to my ex-spymaster last night. Without asking my leave first.”
“We weren’t aware that we needed your permission to question prisoners, Father,” Alistair said blandly. “Lucyan and I weren’t at the council meeting when you had him jailed, so we missed the excitement. I thought we might be proactive and turn the screws on him to see what other machinations he might be up to.”
“Your initiative would be commendable,” the king said, “if you had actually done such a thing. And yet, somehow, when the two of you arrived to question the prisoner, he was already gone from his cell.”
There was a beat of silence. “Are you going to give us permission to widen the search, then?” Lucyan asked. “We scoured the entire city and surrounding areas looking for Shadley last night, but—”
“Without informing me that you intended to do that, either.” The king’s voice heated with anger. “Did I give either of you leave to mount horses and go riding off in the middle of the night? I made it very clear that none of you were to leave the city before I have proclaimed an heir!”
“Do you expect us to stand by and do nothing while our country is at war?” Alistair demanded, finally giving rein to some of his anger. “You trained us to be leaders, Father, not to sit on our hands like ninnies. We saw an opportunity to be useful, and we took it!”
“Useful?” the king repeated. “No. What you saw was an opportunity to defy me.” He rose from his chair, the air around him heating with power. Goosebumps raced across Alistair’s skin as their father’s eyes blazed red. “One of you may become king someday, but as of right now, it is still I, King Dragomir, who sits on Dragonfell’s throne. The next time either one of you forgets that, I will have you whipped and chained in the dungeons for a month. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Father,” Alistair and Lucyan said as one. Like Alistair, Lucyan’s voice was full of barely leashed anger, but both brothers bowed their heads submissively. There was no need to push their father, not when they were getting away free and clear. Their father might suspect, but he had no proof, and even he could not charge them with crimes based on mere suppositions.
One of the few perks of being their father’s sons.
“Good. Now get out and let me enjoy the rest of my meal in peace.”
“That was a close one,” Lucyan muttered once they were far down the hall, well out of earshot. “I sincerely hope Father doesn’t commit any more wrongful arrests. I’m not sure we’d survive another rescue attempt.”
“You’re not kidding,” Alistair said under his breath. The two parted ways at the end of the hall, Lucyan headed off to some appointment, while Alistair went back to his rooms to freshen up. He was supposed to take Dareena out today, but after last night, he wasn’t sure there was any point. Drystan had already slept with her, and Lucyan had come damn close. All Alistair had managed was a kiss. How had he convinced himself he’d ever had a chance with Dareena?
Weary, he pushed open the door to his bedroom, intending on a short nap before he went to visit Dareena. But before he could so much as shuck off his boots, he stopped short as a familiar figure slowly sat up from his bed.
“Hi, Alistair,” Dareena said shyly. She was covered in nothing but a sheet and the long, unbound black hair cascading around her graceful shoulders. A bare calf peeked out from beneath the covering, and dainty toes gently touched the floor. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
“I…” Alistair’s mouth went dry as Dareena stood up. The sheet slid away from her body, baring her luscious curves to his wide-eyed gaze. Stunned, he took in all her naked glory, his cock instantly growing hard. Her breasts were large and perky, and his hands itched to squeeze them, to roll those dusky rose nipples beneath his thumbs and make her moan with pleasure. Her small waist flared into wide hips, which in turn flowed gracefully into long, beautifully shaped legs. And between the apex of her thighs was a patch of dark curls he ached to dive into…
“Well?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you just going to stare all day?”
“No, it’s just…” Alistair swallowed hard. “I thought you’d be warming Drystan’s bed.”
Dareena moved closer. “And why would I be doing that?” she asked, twining her arms around his neck. She pressed her bare breasts against his chest as she did so, sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin. “This is our day together, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but…” Alistair groaned when she rose up on her tippy toes and nipped at his bottom lip. “I thought you didn’t want me. You’ve had Drystan and Lucyan in your bed, but we…”
“Have not,” Dareena finished. “And that is exactly what I am trying to remedy. Now are you going to kiss me, or do you plan on talking me to death instead?”
Alistair growled, the dragon in him responding at the challenge in Dareena’s voice. He crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her deeply as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. If she’d come here wanting a good fuck, that’s what he’d give her, Drystan and Lucyan be damned. He’d make her scream to the rooftops with pleasure until the only name she remembered was his.
Dareena kissed him back just as fiercely, her mouth opening eagerly for him when he bit down on her lower lip. Their tongues met in a clash of raw need, and Alistair devoured her as though he were a starving man and she a juicy peach. Her addictive scent filled his nose, drugging him to the point where all he could think about was getting inside her, and his rough hands roamed over her body, savoring the feel of her smooth skin. She arched into his touch as her hands found the belt of his tunic and tugged, and the next thing he knew his trousers were around his knees.
“Yes,” he gasped when she wrapped her dainty fingers around his cock. She stroked him, hesitantly at first, but then grew bolder, her fist moving up and down his aching shaft effortlessly. Her touch was divine, and he could have let her go on like that all night if he didn’t have bigger plans for her.
“Enough,” he panted, pulling her hand away. He sank to his knees as he kissed a path down the center of her body, stopping to taste her nipples and dip his tongue into her navel. She gasped with each nip and lick, writhing beneath him, and he gripped her hips to keep her steady when he finally reached the patch of curls between her legs. Her thighs opened readily for him, sliding up over his shoulders as he buried his face between her legs and licked her already sopping-wet folds.
“Alistair,” she cried, burying a hand in his hair. Gods, the sound of his name on her lips was nearly enough to make him come. She arched her hips into his face as he feasted on her, finding her sweet spot easily. He teased it mercilessly with his tongue, alternating between lazy circles and hard flicks, until her thighs clamped hard around his head and her entire body trembled as she came.
And then he did it again, and again, and again.
“Please,” Dareena finally begged, attempting to push him away. “I can’t take any more.”
“Oh, I’m afraid we’re just getting started.” Alistair lifted his head, a grin spreading across his face. He lifted her onto the bed and kissed her again, letting her taste herself all over his tongue. When her hands slid down, reaching for his cock again, he gently removed them, then pinned both of them over her head with one hand.
“Don’t be in such a hurry,” he teased, nipping at her lower lip again. “I want to take my time with you.”
“If you take any longer,” Dareena said through gritted teeth as she strained against him, “I might end up going mad.”
Alistair laughed. He nudged her legs apart, then slowly pushed inside her. Dareena moaned, lifting her hips to take him in deeper, but he used his other hand to hold her steady as he slid into her, savoring her inch by glorious inch. Her pussy was incredible, so hot and tight and wet, and he groaned aloud as he finally buried himself to the hilt.
At first, he moved inside her with gentle strokes, soft and easy. Dareena smiled as she stared up at him, her emerald eyes glowing with passion, and she gently traced the planes of his face. Alistair felt a swell of emotion in his chest, and he leaned down to kiss her again, thrusting harder. How had he grown to feel so much for this woman so fast? He should have been repelled by the fact that Drystan had just been inside her the other day, and yet that didn’t bother him as much as he’d thought. It only spurred him on, urging him to do better, to fuck her harder and deeper until her mind and body were drenched in pleasure.
“Ooh,” Dareena moaned as she clung to him. The bed shook beneath them as he pounded into her relentlessly, hunger clawing at him, demanding to take what was his. He released her wrists, then guided one of her hands between her legs, urging her to stroke herself. Her eyes glazed over as she did so, and within seconds, she was screaming his name again, her inner muscles clenching around his cock.
“Yes,” he groaned as he finally came. He shook with the force of it, gripping the top of the headboard so he wouldn’t collapse on top of Dareena. She gently stroked the backs of his legs as he clung there for a long minute, gasping for breath as the world slowly came back into focus around him.
“That was…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he looked at her.