by Jana Downs
“I love you,” Adrian whispered gratefully. His face had lost some of its purple hue as he breathed freely.
“Guards!” the king shouted. A dozen pounding footsteps could be heard outside the hallway until they burst through the door, Richard leading the way. They all gaped at the sight before them.
Corrin imagined what they saw. The Seelie prince was on his knees beside his Unseelie lover, his nipples pierced in obscene Unseelie fashion, tears streaming down his face as he pressed kisses to his companion’s face. Both of their bodies were smeared from the paint from each other’s designs and orgasm. The king stood over all like an avenging god who had struck down the sinners.
“Get this filth out of my sight,” the king said, waving to the two of them.
“My lord, what about your son?” Richard asked as the two were dragged up and cuffed by the other members of the guard.
King DeMarco’s eyes locked with his son’s as he spoke. “I have no son.”
Chapter Thirteen
Here we go again. Adrian ducked his head as he was led from the bedroom. Corrin had been dragged from the room on jellied legs in the opposite direction. This was a lonely walk and one that was even worse to walk the second time around because he knew what was coming.
“Be strong, beautiful,” he thought to Corrin.
“I’m scared,” Corrin’s voice whispered through his head. He was getting farther away, and their connection was getting fainter.
“Don’t worry, beauty. It’ll be over soon. Be strong. Remember that I love you.” Adrian could no longer feel the weight of Corrin’s mind connecting to his. At least Corrin wouldn’t know when the beating began. He wagered that Corrin wouldn’t be subjected to it because of his royal heritage.
“You’re not going to hurt him?” he asked Richard who was leading him down to the dungeons.
“Of course not. He may be saved. You aren’t so lucky,” the guard said. He was completely emotionless as he spoke.
“I figured as much. Like old times’ sake, eh, Rich?” Adrian asked, dark humor coloring his face. “I’m not the sixteen-year-old kid anymore, but you’re still the asshole leading me to the torture racks. At least the Unseelie are honest about their torture chambers. You all are no better than those inquisition maniacs who tortured to ‘purify’ the heretics.”
“Where do you think we learned it from?” Richard asked, his voice tight with disapproval. “Shut up, Adrian. I don’t like this anymore now than I did then. I can’t believe I failed to recognize you in the paintings. You’ve grown more corrupt and hideous with age.”
“Tell me, Rich. Do you ever talk to your son anymore? I know you two had a bit of a falling out after we were caught fucking in the amphitheater.” Adrian knew bringing up the last time he’d seen Rich was probably not a good idea, but he was itching for a fight. “He loved me, you know. He came screaming in my arms minutes before you all busted in on us.”
Richard backhanded him, sending him to his knees on the floor. “He left right after you did. He never finished the rehabilitation program. His heart was too broken. I haven’t seen or heard from him since he walked out of the kingdom a hundred years ago.” The raw pain in the Seelie’s expression caused Adrian to feel a moment of deep unending shame for provoking the memory.
“I didn’t know,” Adrian whispered. “I thought he stayed with you.”
Rich gritted his teeth. “No. He couldn’t stand the sight of me after I hurt you.” The Seelie closed his eyes as if he was trying to rein in bad memories. He waved to the guards. “Deal with this filth.”
* * * *
“Corrin DeMarco, you were caught in the act of engaging in homosexual relations with the Unseelie Prince Adrian Cadence. How do you plead?” The Magistrate had been dragged from his bed some fifteen minutes before. He was a Justice class Fae. Once given a set of laws, his kind could interpret them with unerring precision. They were also incorruptible and saw everything as either within the bounds of the law or outside them. Corrin had never seen the magistrate before, and the white-haired, black-eyed Fae was very intimidating.
“I—” he began. “I’m guilty of what they say.” A murmur of disbelief circled the room as the nobles of every house in the Seelie kingdom were brought in to bear witness.
“You can’t blame the prince for succumbing to the power of this Unseelie filth!” one of the nobles said, coming forward to speak. It was Ran, an elemental class Fae that Corrin considered a friend. “He’s a child among our kind who hasn’t even chosen a specialty yet. The Unseelie prince is a Vampire class. They are the manipulators of the Unseelie court, thus why they are the ruling class. It’s the fault of that monster, not our beloved prince!” The other Fae in the room murmured their approval of the theory.
Juniper Kalelic, another of Corrin’s allies, spoke up. “He can still be saved. Let him go into the rehabilitation program.”
“Thank you for speaking on my behalf, my friends, but it is unnecessary,” Corrin spoke, his voice sounding frail to his ears. “I am guilty. I am in love. I love the Unseelie Prince Cadence with all my heart.”
“Child you don’t know what love is yet,” a voice snapped to his right. His father came out of the crowd in a regal sweep, his mother in her nightgown trailing behind him. “Can’t you see he’s manipulated you? The Unseelie court seeks to deprive our court of its rightful heir.”
“No, Da. They don’t. I–I knew Adrian before he arrived here. He’s the man in my paintings.” He stumbled as his foot caught on a raised bit of tile, and he nearly fell to his father’s feet in a heap. Another round of whispered exclamations sounded. His cheeks were blazing with shame, but he continued to speak. “I met him on my trip to New Orleans. I slept with him then. I was afraid of the attraction, so I came home early, but I’ve thought about him every day since then. I’m going to leave with him.” He said the last firmly. He’d made his decision. Adrian was his, and he was Adrian’s. The world was empty without his Unseelie prince.
“Did he take your blood in that first encounter?” his father questioned.
“Well, yes, of course. He’s a Vampire class Fae,” Corrin said, not seeing the point.
His father smiled, and it was full of disgust and no small amount of malice. “Do you know that Vampire class Unseelie are forbidden from biting their fellow courtiers because of the addictive qualities in their saliva? By biting you, he infected you with a drug that is more addictive to our kind than heroine is to humans. Couple that with a heated sexual encounter and you have a bond that can be used to the advantage of the Unseelie court. He waited a full year before contacting you again. Do you know why? Because it is at that point that your craving for his bite would grow to its most intense level. Another three months and you would’ve been able to think clearly, but the timing was deliberate. You have been had, Prince Corrin. I move that the prince be put into a forced rehabilitation program until the time comes that he is fit to make his own decisions. He’s being influenced too heavily by the Unseelie scum right now.”
“I second the motion,” Ran called out.
The magistrate considered for a moment. “The motion has been presented and seconded. Prince Corrin, you are allowed to make a statement if you wish.”
“I don’t want to go to rehab. I want to go to Adrian. You can’t hold me against my will.” He rounded on his father, glaring daggers in his direction. “Dammit, Da! Why won’t you listen to me?”
King DeMarco looked at him sadly. “I’m afraid you aren’t thinking clearly, Corrin. I was angry earlier, but after thinking about it, I realize that it isn’t your fault. Don’t worry. This is for the best. You’ll understand someday.”
“So noted,” the magistrate said. “Please take the prince to a room in the neighboring center. Good luck to you, Prince DeMarco.”
“No!” Corrin shouted, fighting against his guards as they struggled to drag him from the room.
“Make him calm, Trig,” his father commanded the head green-haired guard who
was trying to pull him from the room.
The big Anima class Fae locked eyes with Corrin. Too late Corrin realized what the soul Fae was doing. They were known for their ability to manipulate the emotions of others. The legend of the Pied Piper came from one of their kind. He felt the Anima enter him with a gentle soothing magick that instantly made him calm and sleepy. He yawned and cuddled against the Fae’s chest. He fought sleep for a moment but then drifted off into a very pleasant sleep.
* * * *
“You can’t just execute an Unseelie prince!” Queen Marietta DeMarco said, wringing her hands in distress.
“He attacked a Seelie prince. By tradition I have every right to kill the son of a bitch. Can’t you see, Marietta, Corrin will never be free until the Unseelie is dead,” King DeMarco argued.
“What if he was speaking the truth and he actually loves him? He’ll never forgive you for it,” she said, wrapping her arms around her husband.
“I can’t lose him to that pervert,” King DeMarco said, his voice tight with emotion. “I can’t lose my boy. Even if he hates me for it, I’ve got to protect him.”
“Would it be so bad to let him love another boy? I mean, you have no intention of retiring anytime soon, and we can still have other children. He could still work for our court if he lived in another. You wanted him to be an emissary to the dark courts anyway. We don’t have to lose him. I’ll still love him even if he is Unseelie.”
“No son of mine will be some Unseelie pervert!” DeMarco thundered.
“Oh, darling,” Marietta sighed, holding him and allowing herself to be held. “I hope it won’t come to that. It’ll rip our family apart.”
“Let’s sleep on it, honey,” the king said, leading his wife into their personal chambers. Neither one of them would get any sleep tonight though.
* * * *
“Adrian! Adrian, wake up!” A voice pierced Adrian’s skull like needles. His head was pounding, and even with his superior healing skills, he was in a world of pain. His face felt like one big bruise, and his body had several large cuts that he could feel pulling with every slight movement.
“Have they come to kill me?” Adrian asked, his voice hoarse from screaming.
“Not yet but they’re planning on it tomorrow. We’ve got to get you out of here,” the voice whispered.
Adrian peeled his eyes open and saw Gael’s caramel face.
“Weren’t you supposed to be watching for us, you son of a bitch?” he asked weakly.
Gael grimaced. “I wasn’t expecting the king himself to come tonight. He has a private entrance into Corrin’s rooms. I had no way of knowing he’d go there. Corrin should’ve known better.”
“W–where’s Corrin?” Adrian asked, becoming more lucid with every passing moment. Gael undid the shackles on his limbs with a wave of magick. Only Seelie could open them.
“His father stuck him in a rehab program against his will,” Gael explained. “He told the court he was going to be leaving with you, but they would have none of it. They simply will not believe that their white prince could truly love another male.”
Adrian cursed as Gael helped him to his feet. “What the hell do you mean they stuck him in rehab? I’ve never heard of an involuntary admittance into that brainwashing trash program.”
Gael started handing him clothes. “It has never been done. It’s unprecedented. We have to get you out of here tonight so that we can have a hope of getting Corrin out later.”
Adrian stopped shuffling forward. “Later? I’m getting his happy ass tonight. We’re going to leave together.”
Gael shook his head and sighed. “You can’t. He’s surrounded by Anima and locked in a Seelie rehab center. The center is surrounded by the best Seelie guards in the kingdom. They’re expecting you to go there tonight if you escape. We’ll have roughly four weeks before their brainwashing really starts taking effect and he’ll have permanent aversion magicks in his head.”
“How do you know that? How do you know we’ll have four weeks?” Adrian asked as they came out a side entrance of the basement and into the open forest. The cries of completion and magick still rang from the darkened forest.
“Because I’ve been there,” Gael said. He looked absolutely haunted as he admitted it. “If we don’t get him by then, we won’t get him at all. Their ‘treatments’ take years to wear off…Some never do.”
Something clicked in Adrian’s head from one of his and Corrin’s earlier conversations. Do you know an Unseelie named Dorian Levene?
“Dorian. You were Dorian and Juliet’s Gael. They talked about you the last time I was at the studio, when I told them I was going here on a mission.”
Gael’s eyes looked hungry at the mention of the two Unseelie. “Oh? What did they say?”
“That a Seelie named Gael had once been their lover and that they missed him very much. They asked me to give you a message if I happened to run across you. They knew it wasn’t very likely, but they wanted to give me a message to pass on just in case.”
“What is it?” Gael asked desperately, his grip on Adrian’s arm becoming painful.
“Ow,” Adrian said pointedly. Gael whispered an apology and immediately softened his hold. “They told me to tell you that they understood why you did it. They still love you and please come to New York. They’re waiting for you.”
Gael fell silent, not commenting on the obviously painful message. He cleared his throat. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“No. I’m not leaving without Corrin,” Adrian said firmly.
Gael glared. “We leave tonight to fight another day. If I have to knock your ass out to get you out, I will. You will be useless to Corrin dead.”
“Fine,” Adrian snapped, frustration pouring off him in waves. He was surprised to see his carriage parked at the edge of the forest. He allowed himself to be muscled into it, and then he was riding away from the palace and his heart.
Chapter Fourteen
He was dreaming again. Firm male hands caressed ass and cock. “Adrian,” he whispered, arching into his dream lover’s hold. “Master.” He moaned as his Unseelie lover entered him with a hard thrust. “Use me hard,” he panted. Instantly his lover’s touch vanished. He sat up in the middle of his bed, alone. “Adrian?” he whimpered, feeling needy and alone.
The Anima from the magistrate’s room appeared by the bed. “This is improper fantasy, Corrin. I can rearrange your dream to be appropriate if you like.”
Corrin’s stomach twisted, and his head started to pound as the Anima invaded him. No. He wanted his Adrian. “Leave me the fuck alone!” He scrambled off the bed and backed into a corner. He banged his fist into a nearby wall trying to wake himself. “Adrian! Adrian!”
“Adrian!” He sat up drenched in a cold sweat. His eyes were wild as he found himself in a sterile white room on a soft white bed pushed in a corner. He was disoriented, and his stomach was rolling miserably.
“Shh, it’s all right, my prince,” the green-haired Anima said gently, kneeling by his bedside. “We’re just trying to see the extent of the damage the Unseelie has done to you. That was a bit deeper in your conscious than I normally go. You did very well with my presence there. I should be able to start really scrubbing those inappropriate behaviors in depth soon. This is excellent progress, Corrin.”
“How l–long have I b–been here?” he asked. He was soaked in sweat and shaking like a leaf. He felt dirty, like he hadn’t had a bath in weeks. His memories were all hazy as if they’d been put into a soda bottle and shaken up together.
“Almost two weeks, Corrin. You’re in the Sexuality Rehabilitation program. I’ve told you this before. My name is Trig Destine. I’m the Anima assigned to help you through this difficult time. You’ve got to stop fighting us, Corrin. This will be much less painful if you cooperate.”
Pieces of the past two weeks were like shards of glass in Corrin’s mind. They’d been invading his sleep, manipulating his dreams. They’d been taking him to a “therapy” tr
ying to get a positive reaction while Anima stood watch and manipulated his reaction when he was awake. He vaguely remembered his parents coming to visit when he was in a bad place psychologically, and he had snapped and raged against them both like a madman.
“Where’s Adrian?” he demanded, suppressing the urge to beat the Anima to death with his bare hands. Violence welled within him like he’d never experienced before. He felt the trickle of calm invade his mind, and he screamed. “Stop it! Stay out of my mind!” He growled, going to the corner of the room defensively, huddling in the white space, and trembling.
Trig looked at him with sympathy. “As I told you last time you asked, your lover has abandoned you. He escaped the night you two were found together and has returned to the Unseelie court. He didn’t care about you, Corrin. He left you.”
“You’re fucking wrong!” Corrin denied. “He’d never abandon me! He loves me! He fucking loves me!” He knew he was hysterical. His heart was pounding, and anger boiled up in his body like a stovetop pot.
“I’m sorry, my prince. If you don’t calm down, I will be forced to make you sleep again,” the Anima said calmly. It was the same tone they always used. They talked like he was a child or a crazy person in a human hospital.
Corrin spat at him. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch!”
With a sigh the Anima’s magick rammed into him like a battering ram, and he dropped into unconsciousness.
* * * *
Another week passed. Then another. Four weeks he’d been in hell, and Corrin’s spirit felt like an old and withered thing. He was extremely withdrawn now, neither fighting nor reacting to their “treatments” any longer. He just refused to participate. If the world was as they said it was, he didn’t want to live in it.
He must’ve dropped fifteen pounds since entering the program, and three days previously he’d cut his hair off. It was now two inches long in the longest place on his head. He knew he looked younger with the weight he’d lost. He saw it in the mirror when he took showers. His eyes were huge on his face. His parents sat across from him looking miserable. But they had no right to be. They put him here.