Change of Plans

by Addison Albright

  Sure, that was all it was. Marcelo’s newfound obsession with another man’s hands and eating process had nothing at all to do with memory flashes of Efren’s unshaven skin rasping tantalizingly around Marcelo’s mouth when they’d kissed in the not-dream. Marcelo stilled his hand that had started toward his mouth to rub a phantom tingle and suppressed a self-depreciating snort.

  “You are each enamored with the other.” Once again, Erich’s words echoed through Marcelo’s mind, and despite everyone’s assurances that Marcelo had previously conducted himself in some kind of brave, heroic manner, regret churned in his belly that he hadn’t had the courage to open his eyes during that kiss.

  Or better, to have tossed caution to the wind and embraced the moment…and Efren.

  But to be fair to himself, not being able to ascertain how he’d come to be in a stranger’s arms in an unknown place was what had been so terrifying, rather than the situation itself. Surely thinking one had somehow lost their mind would be spine-chilling to most.

  When Merewina’s ill-disguised snicker broke his reverie, Marcelo’s fork slipped from his fingers and landed with a clink that seemed unnaturally loud.

  “Really, Efren,” she said, “it’s all I can do not to break all semblance of decorum to toss a sticky bun at you.”

  “Do I want to know why?” The deepening lines around Efren’s eyes answered his own question. If Marcelo was reading his husband correctly, he already knew why, yet had no objection to hearing his sister’s explanation.

  Marcelo turned his gaze to Merewina.

  Her eyes narrowed at her brother. “You are utterly merciless.”

  Efren’s eyes widened theatrically. “Me?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You are shameless, teasing poor Marcelo like that.”

  Marcelo’s face warmed. Yet a thrill coursed through his veins. He’d been right about Efren’s actions, and just as Erich had said, this handsome and powerful man was also drawn to him.

  Efren’s lips quirked into a smile that curled Marcelo’s toes. “Dear sister, I assure you—” he winked at Marcelo “—I’m detecting no displeasure from my lovely young husband.”

  Marcelo’s cheeks had to be flaming red, they felt so hot, but he held Efren’s gaze, and his own lips twitched into a sheepish grin.

  Merewina’s laugh tinkled merrily. “My biggest worry this morning was that the two of you would never regain the depths of caring you’d shared, nor that amazingly sweet—bordering on nauseating—way you beheld each other with such adoration and longing.” She rolled her eyes—apparently one of her favorite gestures. “The teasing is new, but clearly my concern was premature. You barely know each other, yet you’re both already doing it again.”

  “Indeed.” Tristan nodded. “If ever there were two people who were meant for each other, I think it’s the two of you.”

  Marcelo cleared his throat. “Now that I’ve recovered from the initial shock, and notwithstanding the ongoing concern of how and why the Forget-Me-Not was administered—” he swallowed and again stared into Efren’s eyes, because he would become that brave person everyone seemed to think he was “—you are correct. I am…not displeased with my new life and…husband.”

  Efren’s smile stretched across his face and reflected in his eyes. “But I do owe you an apology.” He cast his gaze around the table. “I owe everyone an apology.”

  The others remained respectfully silent, but more than a few eyebrows raised inquiringly.

  “Please understand, in my own memory, just yesterday I was moping about with a heavy heart while dreading my upcoming journey and nuptials. I’d had my whole life, since the tender age of five, to accept my fate, and I would have never shirked my duty to bring peace to the realm, but…”

  Efren took one of Marcelo’s hands in his. “As I’m sure you couldn’t help but notice this morning, I enjoy the company of men. In fact, I prefer it by far. But alas, sharing my life with someone I was both physically attracted to, as I know I am to the lovely young man I woke up with this morning—” he gave Marcelo’s hand a gentle squeeze “—and respect and admire, a condition I’ve been assured I feel toward the husband I don’t remember, and already see hints as to why I felt that way, was a dream I hadn’t dared to indulge.”

  Efren brought Marcelo’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the inside of the wrist, and a delicious warmth radiated up Marcelo’s arm from that spot. “So despite the seriousness of this morning’s drama, I cannot suppress my giddiness upon learning of the turn my life has taken as regards my personal dreams and desires.”

  Marcelo grinned and returned Efren’s hand squeeze. “You don’t need to apologize for that. I, too, am beginning to see the upside to living my life here with you in Zioneven.”

  “I am happy to hear that, because that dream wouldn’t translate to reality unless my husband returned those feelings.” Efren stared into Marcelo’s eyes with an intensity that should have seemed overmuch for the short time they had, at least in their own memories, known each other, but somehow it fit. Perhaps learning that they’d already been in love affected Efren as much as it calmed Marcelo’s worries. “The apology I owe you is because my joy comes at the expense of your sister, and I am deeply sorry for the loss of that innocent life.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Marcelo stared at the remaining bites of sausage on his plate. The royal family probably thought he was heartless since he wasn’t visibly grieving for his sister. His twin sister. If they’d experienced a similar loss, their grief would eclipse what he was feeling over Marcela’s death.

  But Marcelo’s family had never shared such a personal, informal closeness as this. Beyond his sister having been his early childhood playmate, they’d long been little more than acquaintances who shared meals at a long formal table. In his mind, he’d been mere weeks from the expectation of never seeing her again when she was to marry and relocate to Zioneven.

  Certainly, his heart was heavy with sadness knowing Marcela’s life had ended rather than that she’d moved to another realm, but no more so than he would have felt had they been talking about any of the myriad peers or ambassadors the royal family had often dined with. He felt closer to Erich than to any of his blood relatives.

  Queen Consort Ellyn delicately cleared her throat. “My dear boy, you needn’t worry. We fully understand the dynamics of your upbringing in Sheburat and the ensuing complicated feelings you have with your family. We make no negative judgment on your nature.”

  “Of course not!” Merewina vigorously shook her head. “Dear Marcelo, you’re one of the most empathic souls I’ve ever met.”

  Efren patted the hand he still held, and added, “Although I have yet to reacquire first-hand knowledge of your full nature, I trust the word of our ambassadors who reported the same, and I absolutely trust the entreaties of my family based upon their own first-hand experience. Think no more of it.”

  Marcelo stared into Efren’s kind eyes and expelled a breath of relief. As if to affirm Efren’s last statement, someone knocked three times on the door.

  “Enter,” King Alnod said, and a servant opened the door and announced Denis Byrd and Stevyn Wythers.

  “Ah, good. What news have you from town,” King Alnod asked after the door had shut behind the two men, and they were once more alone in a room conspicuously absent of the expected contingent of servants.

  Marcelo straightened, still wonder-struck by the mere fact that he was to be included in the upcoming discussion.

  Chapter 9: News from the Realms

  Efren, the previous day

  Efren couldn’t suppress a goofy grin as Marcelo rounded the corner opposite him, and they arrived at the conference room door at the same time.

  “My darling.” Efren lifted Marcelo’s hand to his lips and planted a gentle kiss to the inside of one slim wrist as its owner smiled coyly. “I saw you running near the head of the pack this morning. You should be proud of your achievements in such a short time.”
>
  “Thank you, dearest.” Marcelo lifted one brow. “I noticed you, too. Coming from town?”

  Marcelo had left the question implicit in his inquiry unasked, and Efren left it unanswered. Instead, he merely said, “Indeed.”

  Marcelo tilted his head to the side, but respectfully didn’t push for a more thorough reply.

  In the conference room, Efren pulled out Marcelo’s chair before sitting between his husband and the empty space at the head of the table, awaiting the king’s arrival. Around the rest of the table, a contingent of advisers, assistants, military/security leaders, and family were assembled.

  After joining them, the king nodded first to Denis, his security captain. “Any updates from the burial site on the road to Gagel?”

  The king was referring to the spot where Marcelo had buried the two men he’d killed in self-defense when he’d been abducted shortly after their marriage. Efren winced and glanced at Marcelo as the horrible dread that had coursed through him when he, Denis, and Stevyn had been at that site fruitlessly searching, flashed through his mind.

  Denis nodded. “Yes, sir. We’ve completed our canvas of homes in all directions, and followed all leads regarding known travelers who were spotted on the road in that timeframe. Nobody remembers anything unusual in the early days after Prince Marcelo’s abduction. It’s a dead end.”

  “That’s not entirely surprising.” The king frowned. “They did a good job of not drawing attention to themselves when they had Prince Marcelo tied up in the wagon, no reason to expect they wouldn’t be equally circumspect hauling away the exhumed bodies.”

  Denis’s face was an expressionless mask, probably still blaming himself for not sending security personnel back for the bodies immediately after whisking Marcelo to safety.

  Nothing was clearer than hindsight.

  They’d returned a few days later, once their caravan had crossed into Zioneven territory, and they’d felt safe enough to allow some members of the traveling security team to peel off and return to that site to collect the bodies and other evidence.

  Even recognizing the impact of losing that opportunity to potentially identify the bodies, and wishing it were otherwise, Efren couldn’t fault the decision. It had been the correct move at the time. Protecting live people superseded identifying dead ones.

  The king sighed and turned to his long-time assistant and adviser, Giles Bailey. “Does George have anything new to report?” Riders from the other realms arrived each morning from their multi-day treks and reported to Giles. George was Zioneven’s ambassador to Gagel.

  “Somewhat new, sir,” Giles said. “George reports that King Deverick continues to appear sincerely upset by the news of what happened to Princess Marcela and Prince Marcelo, and he’s becoming increasingly disturbed that fingers are pointed at him. But he acknowledges that the circumstantial evidence is compelling, and will allow inquiries to be made among the nobles who had the most to gain by instigating a new war among the other kingdoms.”

  The king nodded. “Can you make arrangements for that with the diplomatic corps?”

  Giles returned the king’s nod. “Immediately after this meeting, sir.”

  “Is Sheburat still holding Olstin? Any updates on that situation?”

  Olstin was the male lover of Proye’s King Ulric, who was being held in Sheburat for espionage. That fact had originally sidetracked the search for Marcelo before they’d discovered that Gagel was actually framing Proye for the abduction.

  “Yes and no, sir,” Giles said. “They’re still holding him and are unlikely to release him without something in return since the evidence against him is unimpeachable. Nothing has changed in that situation.”

  “Have they uncovered anything new regarding the princess’s death and Prince Marcelo’s abduction?” the king asked.

  “No, sir. I can only say that they are now questioning King Deverick’s guilt, and are leaning more toward believing that it truly might have been one of Gagel’s nobles acting without the king’s knowledge.”

  “Yes. That is looking more and more likely. King Deverick has never been good at schooling his features.” King Alnod lifted one shoulder almost imperceptibly. “Either that, or he’s a master at misdirecting them, but history doesn’t support that.”

  Beside Efren, Marcelo nodded absently. Although admitting that he wasn’t as politically savvy as the rest around the table who, with their more worldly experience, would be in a better position to know, Marcelo had said from the beginning that he found it difficult to believe that jovial King Deverick, whom he’d met several times and respected, could be involved.

  “And Proye?” King Alnod asked. “Any news?”

  “Indeed, sir. The runner arrived only within the last quarter hour, or I would have brought this news to you directly. Big news…sad news out of Proye.”

  Big news, but apparently not particularly time-sensitive news or their ambassador would have sent the message first via carrier pigeon. Or perhaps he had, but this was one of those one out of approximately ten times that the pigeon didn’t make it back to its home base.

  Everyone sat straighter. The king’s brow’s hiked. “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry to report that Prince Bertram has died.”

  “Oh my.” Queen Ellyn put her hand on her heart. “That’s terrible.”

  “Indeed. Please convey our condolences.” After a moment, King Alnod asked, “Prince Bertram had been away from the capital for more than two moon cycles, correct, as he traveled the realm’s perimeter, evaluating security outposts?”

  “Correct, sir,” Giles said. “And King Ulric, Crown Prince Artemis, Princess Udine, and the princes’ wives and their daughters have all been in residence during that time.”

  The king nodded. “What happened?”

  “According to Palmer’s report,” Giles said—Palmer being Zioneven’s ambassador to Proye, “Prince Bertram’s body arrived back in Capital City, sealed in a casket, late in the day before this daily report was written and sent, three days ago. He’d taken ill at their southern border and died from the high fever. His body was buried at the castle with a small ceremony that same evening.”

  “Oh my,” Queen Ellyn repeated. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, and Efren’s heart clenched, imagining the thoughts racing through her mind. She didn’t actually have much in the way of soft feelings toward the Proye royal family, despite their status as Zioneven’s ally during war, decades earlier, against Sheburat.

  The Proye royals had been steadfast allies, but their philosophies veered greatly from Zioneven’s. Proye was strongly nationalistic, and King Ulric ruled with an authoritative iron fist.

  No doubt she was projecting this terrible event to her own family, and envisioning how she would feel at the loss of one of her own.

  Efren turned when Marcelo gently squeezed his hand. His eyes glistened much like Queen Ellyn’s, probably also imagining how he would feel if he were to lose a member of his new family—Efren’s family—who treated their young son-in-law as one of their own, and whom Marcelo had clearly come to love. As Efren loved Marcelo.

  Efren blinked back tears of his own, imagining his life without Marcelo. And yet they’d never made that declaration to each other. Efren showed his love, always treating Marcelo with utmost caring, but he hadn’t yet said the words “I love you” to his husband.

  And Efren’s spirits always lifted at the sparkle in Marcelo’s eyes after hearing Efren call him “my darling,” and his heart warmed every time Marcelo called him “dearest.”

  It was past time to make the declaration. They obviously both meant the words.

  The emotionally charged atmosphere tugged him, and Efren looked into Marcelo’s steady gaze and vowed to say the words to him tonight.

  Chapter 10: “Not that, then”

  Marcelo, present day

  Around the table, everyone pushed away their mostly empty plates. All eyes turned to the new arrivals, Denis and Stevyn.

  “Come sit, ple
ase,” the king added.

  Marcelo blinked. No matter how hard he might try, he would never be able to picture his mother, the reigning queen in matriarchal Sheburat, inviting security personnel to join them at their dining table, not even to turn it into an impromptu conference table.

  “You’ve discovered something?” the king prompted.

  “We did.” Denis gave a firm nod.

  Marcelo’s heart sank at the sorrowful expressions on both Denis and Stevyn’s faces.

  He held his breath. It didn’t seem possible that he might have had anything to do with this horrible crime. On reflection, it didn’t even seem likely that his mother would have given him instructions for some kind of subterfuge to be carried out here in the land of Sheburat’s former enemy.

  She wouldn’t have considered him capable. Yet he couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that he was somehow responsible.

  Denis drew in a deep breath. “Mr. Othes was found murdered in his family’s apartment over Honey’d Dreams.”

  Marcelo gasped, as did everyone else at the table, followed by utter silence, widened eyes, and several hands reflexively laid over hearts as the news was digested and processed.

  Denis continued. “He was seen by many yesterday, alive and well, although appearing somewhat disheartened. It was well known that his wife and daughter had been visiting family in Sheburat, and his mood was attributed to a delay in their return. The women’s bodies were also found in the family’s apartment, although it was clear they had been killed several days ago but had only recently been dumped in the apartment. Probably when they came to kill Mr. Othes.”

  Marcelo could only speculate based upon what had been said earlier. The Forget-Me-Not had to be administered as late as possible into the product that was to be tainted, which was probably the Nutter Buzzers. And Mr. Othes was the most likely source for the special order of Nutter Buzzers.