Ties of Destiny (Curse of the Crown Book 1) Read online

  There was more to worry about than the guards, however. Jeffrey had met the Queen once years ago. Would she recognise him? If she did, what would she do? She would most likely not be the only one at the party he had met before. What if one of the others recognised him? It took one person and Jeffrey’s life would be over.

  The tension in Jeffrey increased with each minute he spent waiting. The control he exerted over his body took its toll, his focus not as sharp as it should be.

  After an excruciatingly long stretch of time, the Queen and Prince appeared. Neither spared a glance for any of the guards as they strolled down the hallway. The Queen’s arm tucked into the Prince’s, their steps attuned to each other. She wore a flowing gown of pale pink, with gold embellishments. Her dark black hair left open, flowing down her back in gentle waves, reaching her hips, a golden tiara tucked into it. It contrasted yet complemented the Prince’s black and gold attire.

  Jeffrey felt a small measure of relief as he fell into step beside the Queen’s Captain. It wasn’t until they had walked halfway down the hall that Jeffrey realised the other guards had let him take his place as if they had done it a hundred times before. He turned his head to the side, catching the captain’s eye. A wink and a smile, a nod at the royal pair. Jeffrey smiled back before turning to look forward again. He followed six paces behind the Prince, the Captain on his left, six paces behind the Queen. They walked like clockwork.

  The Palaceguards stationed outside the Grand Hall opened the doors on their approach. A crier announced the Queen and the Prince to the waiting guests.

  The Grand Hall fell utterly silent as they entered. Every single noble bowed low. The Prince still had the Queen’s arm tucked into his own. They headed straight for their guest of honour, the Duke of Shanyan. A high ranking noble from one of the island nations in the west, his visit held political significance for reasons Jeffrey cared little about.

  On entering, the Captain headed left along the wall, Jeffrey headed right. The Queensguards behind him followed, also moving along the wall. They stood at intervals, perfectly arranged to cover the whole hall.

  Conversations between the gathered nobles picked up and drowned out the sound of the Prince’s conversation with the Duke. Jeffrey didn’t notice, his focus already scattered.

  The guests were mingling before him, drinks in hand, smiles on their faces. Jeffrey’s gaze sweeping across them all. People he didn’t recognise, some he wasn’t sure of, a few familiar ones but no one he had met before it happened. Gradually the tension inside Jeffrey eased.

  The chattering nobles were busy drinking and laughing and enjoying themselves. Not one paid attention to the guards stationed at intervals along the walls. They barely even saw the servants walking between them with carafes of the finest wines; spiced, sweetened, watered or darkened with potent herbs.

  “There’s no assassins here, you know.” The Queensguard stood beside Jeffrey spoke, his voice kind. He stood much closer than protocol prescribed. “You needn’t worry so much. It’s the servants that’ll need to watch out, not you. Not tonight.”

  Jeffrey caught the man’s eyes and saw only kindness. He gave a wry smile, glad that his worry had been taken for concern for his charge, even if that was the last thing on Jeffrey’s mind.

  “First day?”

  Jeffrey nodded.

  “It gets easier.”

  “Does it really?”

  The guard laughed, quiet but wholehearted. “Yes, I promise it does.”

  “Voice of experience?”

  “Going on fifteen years.” The pride in the man’s voice was unmistakable.

  “You have my respect. Did you spend all that time serving the Queen?”

  “Mostly. Sometimes, when no one else can be found, one of us is assigned to the Prince. It’s usually temporary, for one reason or another.”

  “Good way of getting someone to quit, is it?” Jeffrey said jokingly.

  “I would never dare think such a thing, never mind say it,” the guard said. “Besides there’s no cause to leave the Queen’s service. She is lovely to work for, quite charming too, never an unkind word out of her.”

  Jeffrey nodded, he knew the Queen was well loved by all. “Any insights on the Prince?”

  “What’s he been like so far?”

  “Utterly charming,” Jeffrey said evenly.

  “Hmm, he might have a thing for you,” the guard said with a chuckle, head cocked to the side.

  Jeffrey snorted. “Hardly.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first, you know.”

  Jeffrey raised an eyebrow at the thought but then shook his head, unable to picture it. While the Prince was physically good looking, his manner made him less than attractive in Jeffrey’s view.

  “Not your type, is he?” The guard laughed. “Then I suggest you grow a thick skin.”

  “Yeah, I can see the benefits of that.”

  “You’re in luck.” The guard said, and Jeffrey noted the glint in his eyes. “This will be going on for a while.” He inclined his head towards the chatting nobles. “Your first day will also be your easiest.”

  “And here was me hoping for an early night.” Jeffrey rolled his eyes.

  “Not today. He’s known for enjoying himself at these events. Wouldn’t be the first time for him to be the last to leave.”

  “Oh, lovely, you just made my night.”

  “I live to serve.” They both laughed. “I’m Faruk.”

  “Jeffrey.”

  “I know,” Faruk said with a grin. Jeffrey raised an eyebrow in question. “You have a reputation.”

  “One you don’t much seem to care about.” Jeffrey frowned. No one mentioned his reputation and smiled.

  “Well, there’s two sides to every story.” Faruk shrugged. “I’ve a brother in the fifteenth Legion. You wouldn’t know him, but you’ve saved his life. And that of most of his company.”

  “The Battle of Kieora,” Jeffrey said, the memory clear in his mind. He’d been part of the cavalry unit of the ninth Legion then. Their own mission had been easier than expected and completed successfully with no losses. The fifteenth hadn’t fared so well. Jeffrey had gone to his commander to get their own unit to provide support. The shouting match that ensued had been heard by all the soldiers. Unable to get through to his commander, Jeffrey did what he did best; he disobeyed a direct order to stay put.

  Many of his fellow soldiers followed him and they were able to flank the enemy, evening the odds and helping win the battle. In his anger, Jeffrey had entered the berserker state he was infamous for. After the battle, they told him he had killed hundreds. His own memory of the fight itself near non-existent. A blur of faces, swords, armour, and blood.

  He’d saved lives that day. He’d taken lives too. It was the aftermath of his disobedience that still left a sour taste in Jeffrey’s mouth. Because so many of his fellow soldiers had followed Jeffrey, the punishment had been meted out to them. Every tenth soldier taken and secured to a pole before being publicly flogged. Jeffrey had been forced to watch. He’d screamed and raged but tied to a pole, he had been unable to act. After a time, they’d gagged him to keep him quiet.

  “It’s your intervention that saved hundreds of Sycanian lives,” Faruk said with awe, oblivious to Jeffrey’s inner turmoil at the memories.

  “I did what I thought was right,” Jeffrey said quietly.

  “Which is what makes you a legend. My brother always felt he owed you a debt. Most of his fellows did as well, though they knew there would not likely be a chance to repay it. I would gladly pay my brother’s debt to you. If there is ever anything you need, I will help in any way I can.”

  Jeffrey looked at Faruk wide-eyed, shaking his head. “There’s no debt.”

  “You are kind to say so. Regardless, if there is anything you need, anything at all, I will help.”

  Jeffrey was too stumped to respond. The idea of there being a debt to be repaid horrified him. More so in the memory of those that were punished for h
is own disobedience. How could he make Faruk understand that?

  He found no words.

  The reception concluded and they moved to the dining hall next. As the Prince’s de facto Captain, Jeffrey entered first along with the Queen’s captain. In theory, they went first to ensure the hall was clear; in practice, there was no one in the dining hall except the servants holding wine carafes. Taking post behind the head table, where the royal family would sit with their main guests, Jeffrey could see the entire hall. One by one the nobles came and took their seats. The remaining Queensguard escorted both the Queen, the Prince, along with the Duke and Duchess.

  A great many courses were served, and entertainment provided in the form of dancers and musicians. Jeffrey had seen such spectacles before, not quite so grand but close enough. It had been a long time ago. Once more, old memories haunted him, memories of a different life. His unease settled with time but never quite disappeared, even when he realised he was invisible to the dining nobles. They couldn’t recognise him if they didn’t see him. It meant, at least for the time being, he would be safe.

  After dinner, the guests moved to another hall. It had reclining couches dotted around the room, where the guests formed new groups. The Queen did not join, instead choosing to leave the party. Her guards stationed around the room made to follow her, silent and unobtrusive, Faruk in step with the others. The remaining guests continued, the chatter never waning as drinks continued to flow. The Prince in the throng with everyone else. Jeffrey stood near the door, the only Crownsguard among Palaceguards, he stood out. The Palaceguards wore black tunics and held both spear and shield, decorated with a golden tree of life on a black background.

  A loud clattering sound echoed through the hall. Jeffrey reached for his sword, his eyes searching.

  “You absolute imbecile!” The Prince’s voice rang across the room, silencing all else.

  Jeffrey’s gaze found the Prince at the very moment his arm swung back and struck the servant beside him hard across the face, making him fall backwards to the floor. A red stain spread beneath him. For a moment Jeffrey thought it was blood but then he saw the glass shards.

  Servants hurried over to clean away the broken mess, dabbing at the Prince’s clothes, also covered in wine. A Palaceguard stepped up.

  “Have him taken to the cells until he can be punished.”

  The guard did as directed, pulling the servant to his feet and dragging him away. Despite the distance, Jeffrey could see the boy trembling. Everyone knew what the punishment would be.

  A flogging for nothing, for spilling wine.

  Jeffrey breathed hard, his hand clenched around his sword hilt. He’d not drawn it, but he wanted to, more than he ever had in his life. The palace had become a trap now. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t escape. The Prince would attend when the punishment was handed out and Jeffrey would have to stand beside him. Would have to watch the monstrosity happen. There was nothing he could do.

  ***

  The party would go on many more hours, but the Prince did not remain until the end. Jeffrey, still fuming but no longer showing it, noticed the Prince talking to a blond that was part of the Duke’s entourage. Behaving in a way that could only be described as flirtatious to the extreme, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d stripped naked and bent over. It would have made Jeffrey want to laugh if he had not been so angry still.

  The Prince whispered something into his blond friend’s ear, then left the room. Following suit, Jeffrey kept a firm distance as he tailed the Prince, surprised that the blond from the party didn’t seem to be joining them. He rounded a corner and came up short. The Prince stood leaning against the wall, one leg pulled up, foot pressed flat against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. A hungry gaze rested on Jeffrey.

  Jeffrey raised an eyebrow, remaining quiet otherwise. He felt his skin flushing at the intense scrutiny. Sweeping his gaze along the hallways, they were alone, surrounded by silence. His gaze returned to the Prince. A smirk played on those fine, pink lips. No words were spoken.

  Sighing heavily, Jeffrey took a few steps and leaned against the wall across from the Prince, mirroring his posture. He couldn’t act on his impulse to fight, nor could he control his skin flushing, but he could attempt to return the favour. He swept his gaze slowly up the Prince’s relaxed form, taking in the detail of his expensive clothes, hugging every curve perfectly.

  A sword belted to his hip, its scabbard lying against the Prince’s leg, gold etchings surrounded green gemstones, both on the scabbard and hilt of the sword. It was fine craftsmanship, a parade sword fit for a Prince. Jeffrey wondered if the blade had ever seen any action if it even spent much time at all outside of its sheath. Though the Prince had been wearing it during the day too, maybe he used it in practice with the marshal.

  Drawing his gaze away from the sword, Jeffrey was caught by tight-fitting trousers, bulging at the front. He had to force his gaze upwards. The Prince had considerably less skin on show, his trousers covering his legs fully, his tailor-fit jacket reaching his wrists and closing at the base of his neck. The Prince’s Adam’s apple could be seen, bopping slightly as he swallowed hard. His cheeks were slightly flushed, maybe only partially from wine. His dark hair combed sideways in an elegant but unusual style. His piercing blue eyes still rested on Jeffrey. A delicate eyebrow raised as if in question, lips quirking.

  The heavy silence between them shattered when the Prince’s blond friend burst around the corner, almost stumbling into the Prince, who caught him swiftly and pressed him against the wall.

  Jeffrey’s mouth hung open at the scene being played out in front of him. The Prince kissed the unnamed blond hard, hands roaming freely, a thigh pressed between two unsteady legs. Wrenching his gaze away from the couple, Jeffrey pressed away from the wall. He took a few steps and halted. Still on duty, he could not leave, not for any reason. He rubbed a hand across his face.

  A groan drew his gaze back to the lovers. The Prince had opened the blond’s shirt, revealing unblemished, dark skin. Jeffrey saw the Prince’s hand playing with a hardened nipple, eliciting another groan.

  “Miamoris, not here. Too public.” The blond begged, his pronunciation accented and off.

  “Where do you think my reputation comes from?” The Prince asked his voice dark and low. He took hold of the blond’s hands and pressed them against the wall above their heads. Unable to tear his gaze away, Jeffrey saw the Prince bite the blond’s neck, hard enough to bruise. The Prince was not gentle with anything he did, almost like he was trying to prove a point.

  “Miamoris, please.”

  “I like the sound of your begging.” The Prince moved back a step, his hold released.

  The lack of support had the blond sliding down the wall until he caught himself. His eyes were unfocused, and he blinked heavily.

  “Walk. Keep your hands crossed in the back, imagine they were tied already.”

  Jeffrey heard the blond groan, saw him push away from the wall and stumble unsteadily along the hall. The Prince turned his head to look at Jeffrey, smirked and winked, then followed his prey.

  Jeffrey’s hands were fists. He couldn’t move, instead, he stood gaping after the Prince. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe to calm down. Instead, a new surge of anger swelled inside him. Without a conscious thought directing it, his fist connected with the wall. “Storm it!” he swore, cradling his hand. The throbbing pain let him focus again.

  The Prince had disappeared around the next corner and Jeffrey hurried to follow. He wanted to scream, to burst into the Prince’s bubble and give him a piece of his mind. He wanted to hit him square in the face, fight him in a real fight.

  He couldn’t do any of it.

  Cursing himself, Jeffrey stalked the Prince and his prey at a distance. When they disappeared inside the Prince’s quarters, Jeffrey took his post, though he stayed as far from the door as he could get away with.

  The Prince’s voice could be heard faintly through the
door, but Jeffrey tuned it out, he did not want to hear what would be happening next. No matter how hard he tried though, Jeffrey couldn’t stop himself hearing the groans and grunts, the clattering of objects falling to the floor, or the squeaking of a bed.

  He wondered where his replacement was, surely it must be time for a shift change by now. Time seemed to be passing ever slower.

  Jeffrey’s hair raised on the back of his neck, the Prince’s voice loud and clear, even through the closed door, calling, “alfio.”

  He hesitated. The only time the Prince had addressed him, he’d used that term. But his guest was also blond. Deciding that despite everything, the Prince’s life was more important than his pride, he rushed into the room, ready to draw his sword and defend the man that had been such a pain all day long.

  What he saw held him in his tracks. The blond guest stripped naked except for a blindfold, his hands tied behind him and bent over a chest of drawers with the Prince, mostly dressed except for the open shirt and trousers, thrusting into him almost casually. Jeffrey noticed the Prince’s grin at his entry.

  Glaring at the man, he made to leave when the Prince mouthed “stay” at him. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth hard to stop himself from speaking. He turned away and closed the door, his blood boiling at the Prince’s attitude.

  It would still take some time before his replacement came along and he spent most of that time inwardly cursing the Prince.

  Footsteps approaching alerted Jeffrey. At long last, he saw Kieron’s frame rounding the corner.