Loving the Forbidden Prince
[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending? Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask. Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire. Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever? [Mature content. No sexual violence.] ****** “You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…” “I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced. His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity. “No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.” “How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying. “Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her. His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy. She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.” She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again. “Please, Ayleth.” “I cannot deny it,” she whispered. [Cover specially commissioned and illustrated image by Same Van Rijn. See more of their amazing art on Instagram: @same.vanrijn]
Restless - Part 2
ETAN
Etan and Borsche stared at each other, Etan struggling to keep himself under control. "I realize that."
"I don't think you do. I don't think you realize just what a knife-edge you walk from this moment on, Etan. Assassinations are the smallest concern! Between you… the people could burn the continent to the ground for this!"
"Then we better be praying that they don't. I don't plan to declare war, Borsche. I plan to call for peace. With our two nations unified—"
Borsche abandoned the whispering and bellowed at him, "Do you really believe you can simply declare your love to the population and they will bow and say, 'Yes Sire?!' Are you really that naïve, Etan?"
"No," Etan said through his teeth. "But I am hopeful that with care and planning we can avoid war. And over time our people will come to know and appreciate each other."
Borsche shook his head. "If you can achieve that, Etan, you will be the most renowned King for… centuries. Since Abhim himself."
"Good to know we're aiming low," Etan said dryly and Borsche snorted, but still shook his head, his amusement fading quickly.
"This is a true threat, Etan. A desperate one."
Etan nodded. "I know. And I will need your help and support to avoid harming others. But hear me: I will not accept your rejection of her. There is no option. I have made my vow before God, and I meant it. You witnessed it for me and made your own. Our focus now must turn to how to keep her safe, ourselves safe, and the Kingdoms safe while we persuade our parents."
Borsche took a deep breath and finally stepped away from Etan. "You're right, of course. I just… I wasn't prepared for this."
"And you think I was?" Etan said, his voice thin for the first time. He ran his hand through his hair. "I yearn to touch her and be close, to show her love. Plan a wedding and a family—a family, Borsche!" Did he imagine the flash of pain in his friend's eyes? "And instead, I have to dive headfirst into political wrangling and pray we both make it out alive."
Borsche stood in the middle of the room. He looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at Etan. "We don't even know if her parents planned to sustain the Peace Accord," he said, then swallowed hard. "If there is already a plot—"
"So, go find out. Please, brother. This is where I need you. You can learn this. I know you can."
Borsche's lips tightened, but after a moment he nodded. "Yes, I suppose I can."
"Thank you," Etan said, his voice somber.
Borsche nodded. "We always knew it was going to be difficult living here for a month. I guess you just added an extra layer of fun."
Etan snorted, but Borsche was already heading for his chest in the adjoining room where Etan knew he had clothing that would allow him to blend into any environment or surrounding. "I wasn't going to sleep tonight, anyway," the man muttered.
"You're a good man."
"I'm the best, actually," he said. "You can thank me by naming your first born for me."
"Poor girl," Etan quipped.
Borsche chuckled, but his attention quickly went to the clothing. Etan waited until he'd dressed and slipped out of the room before finding his own boots and a warm cloak. He wasn't going to sleep either. His whole skin fizzed with frustrated desire and nervous energy. He needed some time alone and his thoughts elsewhere.
He would head to the stables and make sure his animal wasn't being mistreated.
He wouldn't put anything past these blasted Zenithrans.
As he strode out of the castle and across the grounds, he glanced back up at the castle behind him and wondered where she was sleeping.
He would have to find out, so he could stare at her window. Then he snorted at his own pathetic romanticism, and shook his head, picking up his pace toward the dark stable—the only other place in this damned Palace that drew him like Ayleth did.