by H Q Kingsley
It was a war room meeting, and Mykel was never late for those.
Omar was stationed at the door as always, and I sat in my usual seat, my hands clasped in my lap. Ellis and Ezra were in their seats and the gaps usually filled in by the others were even more noticeable.
"I...I am sorry, Your Majesty," the servant said, bowing again. "He was not in his rooms, and no one has seen him. I can look again, but—"
"Get out!" my father shouted. "Do not come back to me until he is found!" The servant flinched and ran, not needing to be told twice.
The serving staff was taking the brunt of my father's temper, and I clenched my jaw tightly, trying not to say anything.
He slammed his hand on the table, and we all flinched. "This is madness. Mykel would not run off. He is always here when I call the meetings."
"Maybe he had a lead on what happened to Rehan and Avi and he went after them," Ellis suggested.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Ellis wasn't very bright. None of them were, but he was really the worst of the bunch.
Father just glared at him. "I did not give you leave to speak!" he snapped.
It was clear that this was all weighing on him. He usually doted on the others, letting them say and do whatever they wanted because it didn't matter as long as it was furthering his causes, which it usually was.
Ellis was clearly taken aback at being shouted at, and he snapped his mouth closed, looking down at the table.
We sat there in silence for a long moment before we were all told to leave.
"What is happening?" Ezra said, shaking his head as we filed out, leaving our father hunched over the table.
"I don't know," I murmured, even though it was a lie, and I felt guilty for lying to him.
"We're supposed to be untouchable," Ellis said. "We're the royal family."
"No one is untouchable," Omar replied, snapping his head to look at Ellis.
Ellis gave him a quick look, but he was too dim to really process what was happening and kept on his way out of the hall.
Mykel didn't come back. His body wasn't found, but as the days passed, it became clear that he was gone. When I asked Omar what had happened, he refused to answer in detail, just assured me that I didn't have to worry about him showing up and causing trouble.
"The woods are deep and dark," was all he would say.
I left well enough alone.
Ezra and Ellis were constantly looking over their shoulders. Clearly someone had it out for the royal family, and they were the next two in line for the throne.
"Be careful, Zyke," Ezra kept telling me, and I promised him I would be. There was no way for him to know that I was the only one who wasn't in any danger.
The thick worry in the air was working to my advantage as my belly started to grow more and more noticeably. But everyone was buried too deep in their own concerns to take notice. Everyone but Omar, of course.
And every night, he snuck into my room to talk to my belly, reading our unborn child some gruesomely inappropriate literature.
“Are you okay?” he asked me one night as he rubbed my feet. “Things aren’t...you aren’t…”
“I’m fine,” I said, feeling all of his worry through our link.
“Good,” he said, kissing my foot. “We’re almost there. Just keep baking our baby. Everything is going to plan.”
I nodded, pursing my lips and beckoning him to kiss me. “I trust you,” I said against his lips.
My belly was rounded and impossible to hide as I struggled to get into a pair of jeans.
“Seriously, how have they not noticed?” I grumbled as I let out a long breath, tired just from trying to get my pants on.
Omar chuckled as he approached from behind me. “Because they’re idiots,” he said as he reached to wrap his arms around me running his hands over my swollen belly. “You look so beautiful, Peanut.”
He kissed my shoulder, and I turned in his arms pulling him down to kiss him.
I pushed my unbuttoned pants down. “Gods, I want you to fuck me so bad right now,” I said as an overwhelming wave of lust washed over me. It’d been happening more and more intensely the more pregnant I got.
Omar growled against my lips. “You know I want to, Peanut.”
“Please, Daddy. I’m so wet for you,” I begged and he growled again.
“Fuck, Peanut. You know what it does to me when you talk like that.”
I grinned seductively. “Yeah, I know,” I said as I reached out to run a hand along his cock that was already hard in his pants.
“You’re too loud, Peanut. And I’m too rough. We can’t. Not right now.”
“Mmm, but I like it rough, that’s why I’m loud,” I teased, squeezing his erection.
Omar made the sexiest groaning sound and leaned in to lick into my mouth. “Fucking going to kill me before your father even has the chance.”
I stilled. “That’s not funny,” I said, my voice going serious.
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, leaning in to try and kiss me again, but I pulled back.
“Yeah, no. You killed the mood,” I said, stepping away from him.
“Peanut.”
“It’s not fun to think about what could happen to you. It makes me feel like I can’t breathe.”
Omar’s lips pulled into a straight line as he reached out for me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Really.”
I nodded. "It won't be easy to get rid of my father," I whispered back, my voice breaking a little at just the thought that Omar could get hurt in the process.
"No, but I have a plan."
"Please don't let him kill you," I begged, terrified at the thought. King Heydar hadn't gotten to where he was by being a pushover or an easy mark. He was a fierce fighter, and he glorified in violence.
"Don't stress about this, Peanut," Omar replied, stroking my hair. "It's not good for the baby, and you'll have enough stress on your hands when you take the throne. This is my part. Let me worry about it."
That was easier said than done, but I just nodded and let him soothe me, slipping into that space in my mind where everything was soft and easy.
Omar tossed his pants to me as I got dressed.
“Try those for now,” he said. “They’re tight on me.”
I stared at the giant pair of jeans.
“Um...how big do you think I am?” I asked, ready to get offended if he answered, but he was smarter than that.
“Whatever size beautiful is,” he said with a wink.
And I smirked back. “Smooth recovery.”
I slipped into his pants, and although they were much too long and big everywhere but the waist, they were comfortable. I dragged them across the floor to quickly kiss him before we snuck out of his room and to the dining hall.
I got breakfast, now made by a skeleton kitchen crew who were kept terrified and threatened that if they so much as put a toe out of line they would be killed on the spot, and then went to the library.
To my surprise, my father was waiting there for us.
He was standing in the middle of the space, eyeing the shelves.
"I should have gutted this waste of space when I had the chance," he muttered and then turned his eyes to the two of us.
"Father," I said, bowing my head.
"Your Majesty," Omar echoed, doing a little bow of his own.
Father just looked at us for a long moment, not saying anything. When he finally spoke, it was with a different tone than he usually used.
"You have been different since you came back here, Zyke," he said. "Don't think I haven't noticed."
I swallowed hard. "What do you mean? I've been keeping to myself as usual."
"You speak up more than you did before. You seem...more secure." His eyes darted to Omar. "I suppose a bodyguard helps with that."
I nodded, trying to navigate the conversation carefully. "Yes. It's nice to feel safe."
"I don't see how anyone can feel safe right now," he said. "Your brothers are dying, d
ropping like flies. Ellis and Ezra are more like you used to be now, cowering in corners and jumping at every noise. But you...you move through the palace like you're untouchable. Like you know something the rest of us don't."
Omar didn't react, but I stiffened a bit, hoping he wouldn't notice. He was accusing us of being behind the deaths, I could tell. There was no way for him to know the truth, so I kept my face blank.
"That's a heavy thing to lay at the feet of your son, Your Majesty," Omar said, his voice even. "Maybe he feels safe because he has me to watch his back."
"You," my father sneered. "None of this was happening before you came back here. And I have to wonder why that is. If I find out you have had any part in this, you will live to regret it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," I murmured, my eyes downcast.
Father's eyes snapped to me. I didn't think he'd ever looked at me so closely before. I could feel him assessing every inch of me, and I instinctively put a hand over my stomach, trying to shield it from his gaze.
Wrong move.
"I knew it," he hissed. "I knew it. I knew you were letting this filth fuck you. Holed up in your slum, being his whore." He spat the words, and I flinched back, fighting the urge to hide behind Omar.
"You don't understand," I said, trying to get him to calm down. "It isn't like that."
"I know exactly what it's like," he snapped. "You spread your legs for him, and now you have the nerve to stand before me with his whelp in your belly. I should cut it out of you and make him watch."
Omar growled, stepping forward, but I held him back with one hand. This wasn't the time or the place for him to get into a fight with the king. "It's your grandchild," I said. "Does that mean nothing to you?"
To my surprise, he threw back his head and laughed, loud and long. It wasn't the usual cruel, mocking cackle, either. He genuinely seemed amused.
"It means less than nothing," he said. "Your spawn has nothing to do with me. It's no blood of mine because you're no blood of mine."
The words hit me like physical blows, and I stepped back from him. "What?"
"You are not my son," he said. "How could you be? Weak and pathetic as you are. Your mother was a whore, just like you. She spread her legs for someone else, and it got her killed in the end. I should have known you would follow in her footsteps."
I had no idea what to do with that information. It was like it all kept hitting me, sending me into a spiral. I wasn't the son of the king?
“W-what do you mean it got her killed?”
He rushed at me, and Omar quickly stepped between us.
My father gave us both a malicious glare. “I mean, that nobody crosses me and lives to tell the tale,” he spit.
My chest tightened as I finally understood.
Of course my brothers had hated me. They saw me as responsible for our mother's death. She died because I was born. Because I was the evidence that she had been unfaithful. Especially Rehan, he’d been more than old enough to understand what had happened when I was born.
Suddenly, it was very hard to breathe. I felt like my head was spinning, and my vision started to go blurry.
It was just so much to take in. My whole life had been a lie, and everyone had known but me.
It had made me a target for their abuse, and no one had thought to tell me.
No one had cared enough to tell me.
My father met my eyes. “You’ll do well not to repeat her mistakes,” he said as he left the library.
I stared after him, my body trembling, and Omar took me into his arms.
“Calm down,” he said. “It’s okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “He’ll never hurt anyone else again.”
21
Omar
I didn't sleep that night. I wasn't an idiot. I'd seen the look of malice in the king's eyes, and I knew he wasn't going to let it go.
We'd been sent away, told to make ourselves scarce, but that wasn't going to be the end of it.
He thought we'd killed his sons. He knew Zyke was pregnant. It wasn't going to be that easy to move on from that, and I wasn't going to let King Heydar get away with hurting Zyke.
We slept in my room that night.
"Do you really think he's going to try something?" Zyke asked.
I shook my head. "I don't know. I can't say if he's going to take matters into his own hands or try to send some goon after you, but either way, I want to be safe. We're not done with what we came here to do yet."
I wanted to send Zyke away, but I knew he wouldn't agree to that. He wouldn't leave me there to deal with it on my own, so I was going to have to be extra prepared for whatever bullshit King Heydar decided to start.
I didn't have long to wait.
Zyke was sleeping in my arms, and I could feel his soft breaths stirring against my neck. At least he could still sleep after everything he'd found out. That was good.
I was listening closely to the sounds around us, so I heard it when the door across the hall opened.
Someone was going into Zyke's room, clearly expecting him to be there.
The king was good at killing people, there was no doubt about that. He had hundreds, probably thousands of lives on his hands, but that was different. He sent his soldiers to do his dirty work or had his sons lead the charge. I was more than willing to bet he hadn't killed as many people up close and personal as I had.
It was going to be his downfall.
All the windows in my room were locked. The only way in was through the door.
I eased Zyke out of my arms and tucked the covers closer around him, kissing him on the forehead before I slipped out of the room.
I locked the door behind me and put the key in my pocket. No one was getting in without going through me, first.
The door to Zyke's room was ajar, dim light spilling from the crack. I peeked in and smirked.
I'd arranged a pile of pillows under the covers, enough to fool anyone who wasn't close enough into thinking the prince was sleeping in his bed like always. And of course, the king didn't care enough about his son to know his sleeping habits.
The moonlight spilling in through the window gleamed on the blade of the knife in King Heydar's hand, and I watched as he moved closer to the bed, raising his arm like he was going to strike.
Before he could, I burst into the room.
"I'd be a pretty shit bodyguard if I made it that easy for you to kill my charge, don't you think?" I said, folding my arms.
I'd clearly startled him, and he fumbled for a second before glaring at me. "You. I'll deal with you once I've rid my kingdom and my home of this pathetic stain to the family name once and for all."
He braced himself like he expected me to lunge at him and stop him, but I didn't move.
The king wasn't that much of a fool, apparently, and he stopped, ripping back the covers and glaring down at the pile of pillows that had been posing as Zyke.
"Where is he?" he roared.
I didn't flinch. "You won't find him. You won't lay a fucking finger on him."
"I'll kill you myself," the king snapped. "And then go after that waste of space."
"The only waste of space here is you." And then I moved.
Training took over, making it easy to clear the space between us. I was on him in a second, grabbing his arm and twisting it, making him drop the knife to the bed.
He tried to shove me back, but I kept my hold on him, not letting him go.
"Call for help," I panted, baring my teeth at him. "Call one of your sons to come save you. Oh, that's right, you don't have many left, do you?"
He didn't know it, but Ellis was already dead. I'd taken care of him before we'd gone to bed that night, the final loose end before I went after the king himself.
He was making my job too easy.
I could feel his muscles bunching and the shudders running through him, proof that he was trying to shift. I'd never seen the king's lion before, but I knew I couldn't let that happen. He was probably massive and would
be even harder to take down.
The knife was there, shining on the bed, and I used all my strength to shove the king away from me, sending him crashing into Zyke's dresser with a low grunt of pain.
It distracted him for the time I needed to grab the knife, the hilt still warm from his hand.
He came at me again, trying to knock me down, but I was ready, and as soon as he collided with me, I struck, burying the blade in his stomach.
We both went down onto the bed, the king's weight heavy on top of me. I grunted as he knocked the wind out of me, and I could feel the warm gush of blood seeping from his wound.
He twitched and growled, still alive, and I gave the knife a vicious twist, and he gave a low gurgle and then went still.
For a little while, I laid there, trying to catch my breath. When I felt like I could move again, I shoved the king's body off of me and down onto the floor.
He didn't seem so big and powerful laying there in a crumpled heap, and I nodded, satisfied.
There was going to be so much to deal with in the morning. The king's body had to be disposed of, and Ezra would have to be dealt with one way or another.
But it was done.
The king was dead. His shitty sons were dead.
I needed to change my shirt.
I locked the door to Zyke's room, leaving the king's body there, and slipped back across the hall. When I opened the door, Zyke was sitting up in bed, looking at me with wide eyes.
He glanced at my face and then down to my bloodstained clothes and was out of bed in a second.
"What happened?" he asked, sounding frantic. "Oh my gods, are you okay?"
I took his hands before he could touch me and held them. "I'm fine, Zyke. It's not my blood."
"Then whose..." He trailed off, and I saw when understanding flooded those gorgeous eyes. "It's over, then?"
"It's over. He thought he'd be sneaky and creep into your room in the middle of the night."
Zyke sighed. "I shouldn't be surprised, but..."
"I expected it," I said. "That's why I had you sleep in here. I knew he wasn't going to let what happened earlier go."