“What?”
“I’m handing over the title,” King Liberty declared, slowly lifting his mask off his face. “Giving up the mantle, the mask, and the masquerade.”
Milo’s eyes bulged at the sudden reveal of King Liberty, who now stood unmasked in front of Gladiatrix.
“Alicia, I’ve never met a woman who makes me so happy.” He removed the top hat next, revealing his ruffled black hair as a glamour washed away the chestnut illusion he kept. “It’s time for another to carry the torch of this title.”
“Are you certain?” she asked, lip trembling, and pulse pounding as she awaited the answer.
“Yes, absolutely.” King Liberty smiled. “I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.”
“I fucking knew it,” Milo blurted, ruining the moment as he levitated like some child lacking control of his roots.
In this moment, he did lose control, floating in the giddy realization that King Liberty was none other than the second son of the royal family, Henrik.
“There’s a thousand theories surrounding King Liberty, most of which suspect that the third son or that Duke from what’s-it-ma-called,” Milo continued. “But I always knew Prince Henrik seemed suss.”
“How astute.” Henrik nodded.
“You have no idea,” Milo said, ready to divulge his every potential theory.
The biggest being how Henrik likely possessed two branches to throw off suspicion. The public branch he used was a primal magic, controlling ice, but King Liberty only ever utilized his powerful warding barrier magics.
Now that Henrik had removed his mask and top hat, the protective sigils blocking his thoughts fell away too. His guard also dropped while in the company of Gladiatrix, making it easy for me to discover the truth. Henrik didn’t possess two branches. He only ever had one, but he used secret enchantments to show off the ice magic. According to his surface thoughts, his family believed he was born branchless, and creating discreet enchantments for him was a way for them to hide that fact from the public.
I scoffed. Of course, they wouldn’t want to announce a royal branchless child. Bad for their image. Kudos to him for hiding his real branch from his family, associates, security, and literally the entire nosy world. Though I couldn’t help but wonder how the royal family image would look with him stepping out from the shadows, announcing himself publicly, and dating an American trans woman.
“You know,” Milo continued. “I actually have a few ques—”
“Later.” Gladiatrix flicked her fingers, hurling Milo through the air with a delicate wave of telekinesis, carrying him across the street. “I’d like to speak with just you.”
“As would I, love.” Henrik smiled.
Prince Henrik stepped closer, removing the gap between him and Gladiatrix. Her body trembled, thoughts flashing with images of their last intimate encounter. The memories moved by so quickly, I didn’t have time to block them but also didn’t glimpse much in the sudden flutter.
The only thing that I clung to from those memories was the fact that Gladiatrix had seen King Liberty without his mask those nights together. She’d experienced the pleasure of Henrik’s company. The man behind the mask, the man withoutthe royal title. She loved talking with him without the secret identity or air of royal pretense.
Still, she never believed she’d experience such a thing outside the darkness of a bedroom.
Henrik leaned in, his lips almost brushing against hers.
“Wait.” Gladiatrix surveyed the street, finding a mostly unaware public but spotting a few reporters lurking nearby. “Are you sure about this? It’s a big statement. One you can’t take back.”
“Let them enjoy the show, love.” Henrik kissed Gladiatrix. Their lust oozed through the air, mixing with my psychic energy and giving me a tiny taste of the passion they held for one another.
Reporters snapped photos from across the street, landing the scoop of the century no doubt. England’s second son, a royal rockstar of impish behavior, was actually none other than the most infamous masked witch in the United Kingdom. Not only that, but he was making out with America’s number one enchanter, Gladiatrix.
Miloread Ben his seventh story for the night, declaring this would be the final story. It would. But not because of Milo’s adamant declarations. He made that same statement every time, and somehow, Ben still managed to con Milo into picking up another book.
Fortunately, Ben’s eyes weighed heavy, and I knew his sleepy expression better than anyone else. He was seconds from dozing off.
I stood in the doorway, quietly observing.
Ben preferred Milo’s storytelling over mine, mainly because he did all the silly voices. As Milo read, Ben rolled onto his side, using the light of his lamp to keep his focus. All it did was force his eyes to shut tighter. Still, he tried to listen intently.
Meanwhile, as Ben’s thoughts drifted into a dreamland, his dog lay at the foot of the bed, pretending to be asleep. We all knew the dog would end up next to Ben the moment we closed his door.
Seeing them all together brought me joy, and I couldn’t help but smile. Milo’s terrible impressions nearly made me laugh. But the more I stayed, the more a twinge of guilt stabbed atme. It came with pressure against my chest, making it harder to breathe.
