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Chapter One
On the planet of Loros
A storm was coming, just to make the day evenmoreperfect.
The sun that had been shining down on Loros for most of the day, now hid itself in grief and shame behind bruised, bloodshot clouds. Lord Nerol stepped forward and raised his hands triumphantly over his head to make the crowd cheer and scream his name.
Prince Kalen of Loros, sitting on a small throne behind him, peered up as a cold rain began to drizzle down. How perfect was it that the entire sky was as inflamed and angry as Kalen’s tumultuous feelings? The wind was picking up, doing its best to make sure the rain soaked the silken fabric of his dress uniform so the wind could lash it more securely to his body—altogether fitting, considering how neatly Nerol and his mother had managed to restrain and strangle Kalen’s every move thus far.
Ironically, Nerol, his despised and murderous uncle, had been the one to insist Kalen wear this particular dress uniform. Perhaps Nerol thought the formal clothing might add legitimacy to this farce of a ceremony. He was no doubt trying to reassure the soldiers of the former king’s loyal army that nothing had really changed…which was a fucking lie.
But then Nerolwasa liar, as well as a cold-blooded killer, because nothing could ever be the same again. Not with his beloved father newly laid in his grave.
There was great unease in the army ranks since the king’s suspicious and untimely death, and Kalen’s captains had given him reports that the soldiers was ready to revolt at a word from him. Lord Nerol was well aware of this and had taken steps to ensure that all Kalen’s communications were closely monitored. He was watched every second of the day.
For now, no one had tried to restrict him yet from leaving the palace—dead bodies would be littering the Great Hall if they had. But his uncle had kept him busy by scheduling no less than three long, drawn-out funeral services for his father that Kalen felt obligated to attend. One was a private funeral for the family, another for the lords and ladies of the court and this final one for the general public to pay their last respects. Ironically, there was nothing his father had hated more than formal ceremonies, so he would have scorned all of this.
Now that the funeral itself was over, his uncle appeared to be ready to address the huge crowd below.Lord Nerol seemed uneasy about how the people of Loros would react to his news and rightly so. Prince Kalen was even more popular with his people than his father had been. Crowds had begun to gather outside the palace early that morning and grew more and more restless with each passing hour. Kalen’s presence on the dais was meant to reassure them.
“We, who know Prince Kalen best…” Nerol began, standing on the edge of the steps leading up to the front of the huge stone edifice that had always housed the royal family. Kalen wondered what would happen if he suddenly leaped forward and kicked the bastard down the steps like he wanted to.
“We understand that Kalen needs a bit more time to develop the maturity it takes to be our world’s supreme leader. He’s very young and hotheaded,” His uncle paused at the loud sounds of disapproval and unrest emanating from the crowd, smiling reassuringly and holding up his hands for quiet.
He gave them that oily smile of his and continued. “Please don’t misunderstand my meaning. Prince Kalen is an intelligent, brave young man, a fine boy, who will make a glorious kingone day… But sadly, he simply lacks the maturity to become our king as yet.”
The loud shouts and murmurings continued as he turned to Queen Brandalla and extended his hand. She rose regally to take his hand and stand by his side.
“His mother, the queen, and I—now his two closest relatives—both think that he needs something to settle him down first. His dear father, my beloved brother and your late king, Jarrem, spoke to me before his tragic passing about making a political marriage for Kalen, a strong alliance that would strengthen our planet and provide a strong partner to help him reach his full potential. Just before his tragic passing, your late king had decided to find the prince just such a consort. From an excellent family—a royal one—perhaps even more noble than our own. Someone who will help our young lord grow and consolidate his power and provide strong steady guidance when he eventually does take the throne.”
What the fuck was his uncle blathering on about now? Part of what Nerol was saying was true. A small part. His fatherhadspoken to Kalen about the possibility of arranging a marriage for him and building new alliances. Once—a few months ago. Nothing concrete had ever been discussed, however. Not with Kalen and probably not with Nerol. His uncle lied like he breathed air.
His uncle probably figured a dowry from some wealthy king or emperor’s daughter would help refill their reserves and keep the tax burden away a few years longer. It was always about money with Nerol. But Kalen had told his father that he had no wish to marry as yet. At least not for the foreseeable future. He was too young and had no desire to settle down with just one woman for the rest of his life. Women were high maintenance, and he simply didn’t have the time to devote to one. His father had understood that and had granted him his wish to wait a while longer. He told Kalen they would talk about it later. But tragically, there hadn’t been alater.
So, why was Nerol discussing betrothals and arranged marriages like this was all settled and Kalen was going to be betrothed? Especially at a time like this?
There was far too much unrest on Loros at the moment to bring in some completely unknown and ignorant young woman from another planet. Such a person would only be a pawn for his uncle to use against Kalen, and Nerol already had far too many of those.
Kalen knew what was really going on—Nerol and his mother had gone behind Kalen’s back to accommodate Nerol’s ambitious goals and put him in charge. And all this talk of consorts was just smoke and mirrors to distract the people from what was really happening. His uncle was staging a coup.
Perhaps Lord Nerol had begun making this move even before he murdered Kalen’s father. It seemed odd that immediately upon his father’s death, the council had declared Kalen “too young” to take his rightful place on the throne. They had taken the extraordinary measure of naming Nerol as his Lord Regent for the foreseeable future.
The bastards were no doubt well paid for their treachery and complete lack of moral conscience. They’d managed to divest Kalen of his title before his father’s body was even cold.
And after this ceremony ended, his uncle, the incestuous, disgusting pig, planned to make Kalen’s mother, the beautiful Queen Brandalla,hisconsort in a glittering, lavish spectacle inside the castle.
It was beyond unseemly; it was abhorrent. He would be forced to stand by and watch his uncle fawning over his mother, while Brandalla looked anywhere but directly at Kalen, refusing to meet his direct gaze. As well she should.
Kalen had no proof as yet that his uncle was a murderer. No concrete evidence that Nerol had anything to do with King Jarrem’s death—only his strong suspicions—but he would find what he needed. And when he did, he would rain down hell on his uncle and whoever else had conspired with him, up to and including the entire King’s Council if that turned out to be the case. He would show no mercy to anyone involved. Even if the queen herself were proven to be one of the co-conspirators.
A pain so sharp it seemed to draw blood struck his chest. Even thinking such a thing about his mother made him sick, but his fury had hardened against her, only a mere five days after the king was put in his tomb, she had declared herself ready for remarriage—to her late husband’s brother.
It was an obscenely short amount of time to mourn his beloved father, and Kalen was sickened and horrified.
She had added crushing insult to injury by making one of her first acts, as the new widow of the king, the betrayal of Kalen, her own son, bringing a petition before the Council about “concerns” she had over Kalen taking the throne. Brandalla had joined his uncle in petitioning the King’s Council to delay his ascension and name a Regent for Kalen, and in doing so, she had effectively thrown her own son aside in favor of her new husband.
How could she have done such a thing? Kalen’s father, Jarrem, had been a good and loving husband, and a courageous king, and Brandalla knew he wanted Kalen to become king after him. Jarrem’s people had loved and revered him. Kalen’s mother always seemed to adore him too, and she had at first appeared to be devastated by his sudden, shocking death. Kalen had held her against his chest as she sobbed and wailed on the day of Jarrem’s private funeral. Now he had to wonder if those tears had been for his father or for herself? His father had always pampered her and given her whatever she desired, after all. She had enjoyed all the privileges and perks of being his beloved queen.
When Kalen had first heard the news about the marriage to his uncle, he’d been stunned. He thought she must have been coerced, but she had assured him that she desired the marriage.
