Chapter Seven
Percy
Finding his courage, Percy held Edward’s hand, chin up, shoulders back. He walked next to his lover, and not behind him, no matter how badly he wanted to hide in his shadow. Mason stood at the top of the stone steps of the great manor hall, the wind whipping his dark locks in a rather heroic manner. The dark clothes he wore merely completed the look, and one glance at Reynard’s countenance told Percy that the captain was deeply affected.
Seeing Reynard and Mason kissing had been one of the most beautiful and surprising things of his short and sheltered life. Just the amount of love and passion in how they touched each other made Percy want to hug them both and sigh over them at the same time. He was rather emotional about it, and he glared down at his baby bump just as they escaped the wind and entered Lord Estiary’s home.
Mason fell back to Reynard’s side, and Percy smiled, thinking the two tall, powerful men were stunning side by side. Edward squeezed his hand, and Percy sent him a guilty glance and a shrug at his questioning look. Edward flicked his eyes at his brother and guard, and his brows twitched and his lush lips quirked in a smile. Edward put his arm around his shoulder and hugged him, following Reynard and Mason as they walked down an impressive entrance hall.
It was at least three stories tall, with twin staircases rising from either side. A balcony joined them over the main hall that disappeared into the depths of the mansion. The building was huge with rich rugs and tapestries on the walls in vibrant hues and scenes. Everywhere Percy looked were gold accents, and instead of the red of the Cassian décor, there were deep, royal blues, twilight hues and ocean shades. Percy was awed, and the effect was that of cool, calm welcome, despite the grandeur.
Percy was slightly confused. They had yet to see any servants. Mason had opened the front door on his own, and they entered alone. There was no waiting servant to greet and guide them to their host.
The four of them walked deeper into the house, the thick stones walls and the hues of blue making it feel colder in the shadows. Bright lights and the sound of music could be heard ahead, and Percy picked out the tinkle of high pitched giggles and deep masculine laughter.
Edward’s arm went tight around his shoulders, and Reynard dropped back to walk on Percy’s unprotected side. Mason shot them a quick glance, sarcasm having an expression it would be in the way Mason shook his head at them. They stopped outside the open door, golden light spilling over them.
Percy peeked around Mason’s wide shoulders, eyes going wide at the sight in front of him.
It was a large room, made for comfort, couches and chaises and lounges littering the expanse. Wide loveseats and deep piles of pillows completed what Percy would compare to a harem from his fantasy books, and when he saw the nearly naked and beautiful forms lounging about, he figured it was pretty accurate.
“Dammit, Mason! I didn’t want him in this environment!” Edward hissed at his brother, and Percy found himself behind Edward, view obstructed.
“Eddie, Percy grew up in this environment. We’re the ones out of place, not him,” Mason said casually, and Percy looked around Edward to see Mason shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Eddie. Your precious virtue is safe from some fluff-brained pleasure slaves and a handful of retired breeders. Oh, and an aging harem master, but he’s too drunk to bite hard.”
“Mason!” Called out an accented and slightly slurred man from inside the room, and the giggling cut off. “My darling boy, did you find your lost love? Ah, I see you did! And is that Farmer Eddie I see? Tell the young prude to stop being so jealous of his lovely dove, I have plenty of my own. Come in, gentlemen, and have a drink!”
“Prude? Did he call me a prude?” Edward asked angrily, and Mason laughed. “Farmer Eddie?”
“Coming, Lucius,” Mason called out, and he walked inside the room.
Percy waited for Edward to make up his mind. Reynard stopped halfway between Mason and Edward, as if torn, waiting as well for Edward to make a decision.
“Saint’s Blood…..” Edward grumbled, but he took Percy’s hand again and walked forward. “Percy, stay at my side at all times, understood?”
“Yes, Edward,” Percy promised, following.
There were at least twenty people in the room, with maybe enough clothes between them all to cover a normal sized man. Percy was accustomed to nudity, in himself and others, and the naked pleasure slaves and the rare breeder he could see didn’t bother him at all. The slaves were easy to tell apart from the breeders, at least for Percy. The slaves, all females, were lithe and slim with an elfin cast to their features, with high, smallish breasts and narrow waists. The breeders, also female, had wider hips and more flesh on their waists, though they were by no means overweight. The breeders also bore marks of their purpose, faint silver stretch marks on stomach and waist, and breasts that were fuller and not quite as high. The pleasure slaves were sterile, and their attributes were decorative, and unchanging until advanced in years. Breeders aged, albeit slower, but they still showed themselves to be past the first blush of youth. Percy only ever saw breeders past the age of thirty when they were retired back to Heritage and taken to the breeding pools to continue the in house stock lines, so to see the handful of females free to move about and not pregnant was odd for him.
Edward led him after Reynard and Mason, who were taking seats near the fireplace, where an exceptionally handsome older man was holding a clothing optional version of Court.
He was clothed, but the pretty slave on his lap was not. She was tiny, and looked no older than Percy, but she was designed to look that way, and could be ten years older. Wild, long and bouncy curls of vibrant red hair spilled over her shoulders, and deep blue eyes, almond shaped and fringed by thick black lashes gave her an angelic air, but her bare, perky breasts and legs open invitingly dispelled quickly any hints at innocence.
Percy took in their host, his silver hair thick and swept back from his forehead, with a slight widow’s peak and dark eyebrows over gray eyes gave him a very distinguished appearance. He was wearing black trousers and a deep blue waistcoat, a white shirt underneath open at his throat. He was older, perhaps in his fifties, but he was lean and his arms, the sleeves rolled back, were muscled and toned. Rings glittered on his fingers, and Percy politely looked away from the hand that was buried between the red-haired slave’s legs, making her pant eagerly as he worked a finger in and out of her wet pussy.
Edward sat in a high backed chair, and Percy went to curl up on the cushion on the floor at his feet, but Edward pulled him to his lap instead. Percy curled up, tucking his feet under him, and he stared back at the older lord, meeting his inquisitive gaze.
“Greetings, assorted princes and guard,” Lord Estiary said with a wave of his free hand, his other still moving with purpose between the slave girl’s legs. “And a most hearty welcome to the beautiful Perseus, royal consort.”
Estiary picked up a crystal and blue-gem goblet from a tiny side table beside his throne-like chair, sipping the deep red liquid from it, gray eyes roving over Percy where he sat in Edward’s lap. Lord Lucius moved his fingers in a smooth glide over the girl’s clitoris, and she came with a mangled scream, convulsing on his lap, legs closing on his hand, her breasts quivering as she struggled to breathe past her orgasm. Lord Lucius just sipped his wine and slowly withdrew his hand, making the exhausted girl spasm one more time before she sleepily rolled off his lap. She grabbed a folded cloth napkin from the small table, and handed it to her master who put down his goblet and cleaned his hand. She took the napkin and walked off, all without looking at any of them where they sat nearby.
“Lord Lucius,” Edward began, but the older man waved a hand and sat up straighter, gesturing to Percy.
“He’s Cartwright’s design, isn’t he? I recognize the eyes, Cartwright kept him in his study like a puppy when he was knee-high. About a decade ago, so the age seems right.” Lord Lucius smiled at Percy, thin lips curved ever so slightly, and Percy looked away, refusing to show the aging harem master any emotion. “Cartwright named him Perseus, after a hero from a faraway foreign land. As I recall, it was the boy’s favorite tale, and Cartwright read it to him often.”
He didn’t remember Lord Lucius Estiary, but it was possible they’d ‘met’. Cartwright, Percy’s designer and creator, had indeed kept Percy in his study when he was little, letting him read and play by the fireplace. As a child Percy was allowed a simple cotton shift and sandals, and Cartwright taught him to read in between client meetings. Cartwright never let Percy be alone with clients, and kept them all away from him, prohibiting contact. His late master was dead, dying a month before Edward visited Heritage and bought him.
“Percy is off limits, in all ways,” Edward said directly to Lord Lucius, and Percy looked down at the floor, tensing. “You’ll not speak to him or about him, Lord Lucius.”
“Bold words for a disgraced prince,” Lord Lucius said, sipping his wine. “And what a way to treat the breeder you collared for love. I know full well Cartwright didn’t inhibit his mental development like he did with his regular stock. Young Perseus understands every word I say, and has the brains to speak his own back to me.”
Percy froze, not daring to look up, either at Edward or at Lord Lucius.
“Percy is not up for discussion,” Edward growled, all but vibrating under Percy in the chair, anger in every tense line. “He has nothing to do with why we are here.”
“Don’t think me a fool or a drunkard, your highness!” Lord Lucius all but shouted, standing swiftly, towering over them. Reynard stood just as fast, coming to stand at Edward’s shoulder. “Your mate and the babe he carries is what this is all about. Everything depends on that babe he carries, of oh-so-pure Cassian decent. King Henry has let greed and fear cloud his mind, and when he realizes very soon what he has let slip through his fingers, there is no place on the planet you’ll be safe. And once Mason finishes telling his tale, the whole of the country will be demanding your child.”
“What the hell is going here?!” Edward demanded, and he stood. Percy found himself passed to Reynard like a parcel, and the guard held him protectively in his arms, backing away as Edward got right up in the noble’s face. “You’ll explain yourself, and now. I don’t mind adding assault to the charges of treason I’m certain my father has placed on me. Speak, clearly, and now.”
Mason sighed in his chair, the only one of them relaxed and not standing. “Eddie, shut the hell up and sit down. I’ll start talking. And for Saint’s sake, Luke, stop goading my baby brother. He is unreasonably protective of the little mouse. He just might do it, and I’m of a mind to watch.”
Edward kept glaring at the nobleman, and Lord Lucius cracked out a burst of laughter before calmly backing away and sitting. “Very well then, Prince Mason. You have the floor. I delight in seeing what our youngest blood prince thinks after we have full disclosure of the sordid facts.”
***
Edward
Edward breathed in deep, remembering who he was, and who he didn’t want to be. Reason, calm, control. He was all of these things. He wasn’t the entitled crown prince, who sulked when he didn’t get the choicest meat, nor was he the brash and rude middle son, who made it a point to need no one and make sure they knew it. He saw the flaws others hated most in his brothers and made it a point to be more, and yet less.
Who was Edward, third son of the king? Farmer, tax law expert, master, lover? Father? He looked at Percy, his lovely mate held securely in Reynard’s arms, the captain ready and willing to give his life to protect Percy’s. His mate, whose ice-blue eyes were fraught with worry and tension, all but begged him to find peace.
The control he’d been struggling with the last weeks was all but gone. So used to having his life be the way he wanted it, undisturbed by politics and family backstabbing, Edward realized with a harsh awakening that he was spoiled. He was a prince, cast adrift in world he couldn’t control and he certainly could not protect his mate and unborn child. He relied on Reynard to protect them from harm, and even Mason, the seemingly crass and degenerate rake, had more value and skill than he’d given him credit for, and was immensely more suited to the life they were living than Edward was.
In that epiphany he realized he was no one. Yet he could be someone, and he wanted to be more than what the world saw, and what he had been before. Every moment set before a man he had the chance to be better than he was before, and that thought sent the tension from his body.
Edward relaxed, and sat. He would listen, and learn, and then figure out what kind of prince he really was. What kind of man. Percy made a small movement from Reynard’s arms, but Edward glanced up at the captain who nodded and sat back down, holding securely onto Percy. His mate gave him a small moue of his lips, and Edward sent him an apologetic smile before returning his attention to their host.
“Apologies for the outburst, Lord Lucius. I have no excuse for my behavior.” Edward had plenty of reasons, but he refused to act the child. That was Mason’s job. Lord Lucius gave him a gracious nod, and Edward glared at Mason. “Speak up, brother.”
“Oh, is it my turn?” Mason asked, leaning back in his seat, legs crossed, looking so alike Reynard that Edward wondered just how far back their liaison went.
“Mace,” Reynard warned in a soft tone, and surprisingly enough his brother sat up in his chair and lost the insouciant attitude.
“First begin with why Father is listening to the Minister of DNA Engineering and Cloning,” Edward said. That was the most pressing matter—the why would explain how the king could be bent to follow the wishes of a single minister, a minister who was appointed by the king, and not the people. All their father had to do was dismiss the minister and appoint someone knew. For the king to let a mere minister, no matter how influential, to meddle in the affairs of the royal family was almost unthinkable. “Tell me why he endorsed this manhunt and is coming after Percy. Malcolm said it was money, that the slave trade in Cassia is losing too much money for a breeder like Percy to be bound to one man.”
“Well, cut to the heart of the whole fucking mess, why don’t you,” Mason muttered, incredulous. “You always were so smart, Eddie.”
“Mason!”
“Fine. The illustrious King Henry the Third is being blackmailed, and bribed, by the Minister of DNA Engineering and Cloning.”
“What?”
“Before he was the minister, he was a lowly geneticist and manipulation expert at a semi-well known breeding house. Goes by the name of Heritage Breeders, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. His name is unimportant, but he worked alongside a Master DNA Architect named Cartwright. That’s not really important either, I’m afraid, just shows what a small world this is.”
“Mason!”
“Ok, okay. This all boils down to our dear mother, Eddie.”
“What does Mother have to do with anything? She’s been dead for twenty years!” She died when Edward was ten, after complications from the birth of his youngest sister. That was what his father told him and the rest of the world, at least.
“Mother was ill, Eddie. She born sick, and she didn’t tell Father until after she had you. It’s that disease that eventually took her from us, and drove Father mad.”
Mason’s face was set in stone, dark eyes a bottomless pit of pain. Edward stared at his brother until it felt like no one else was in the room, everything narrowed down Mason. Air seized in his lungs, his hands gripped the arms of the chair, and his legs tensed. He locked eyes with Mason, and said, “Keep going.”
“A congenital disease that remains dormant until triggered by a childhood illness, so only about half of the people who have it develop symptoms. It has a long and boring scientific name, but it’s responsible for the winnowing of several noble houses around the world. It affects the reproductive organs and cells, more seriously in women. In men, it makes us sterile. Mother died because Father found out, and in an attempt to hide the illness from his country and ministers, he made Mother continue to bear his children through IVF and assisted birth. The line of Airric can have no weakness, and he believed more children would guarantee the continuation of our line, and hide the truth from any curious observers.”
“I don’t….” Edward was falling apart. He understood the words, the meanings, but in the context Mason was supplying he was lost.
Mason must have seen it in his eyes, as he got up and walked to him. Edward sat back and turned to his brother as he crouched beside his chair.
“Eddie, just listen. Mother was sick, before she married Father, she knew, but the King of Elysian wanted a marriage covenant with Cassia, so she married him anyway. She had Malcolm, then me, and then you, all of us naturally conceived and born. But she got very sick after you were born.”
“I remember the servants talking about it. They said it was pneumonia.”
“No, it was her disease. She got so sick Father called in specialists, and they found the disease. Father went to the best geneticists in the country, one of whom is now the current Minister of DNA Engineering. They all told him the same thing—that the disease was incurable, but it could be managed properly with the right treatment. Father lost it, to put things mildly. He married a woman who polluted the Cassian Dynasty with a fatal weakness, and that was something he could not tolerate. As a result, he had the three of us tested.”
That made sense. If it was congenital, then they could have it. But what did that have to do with what was happening now?
“Malcolm and I have it, Eddie. You don’t. It skipped you completely. You don’t even have the recessive for it, so you can’t give it to your child.”
“Thank the Saint’s,” Eddie breathed out, his relief at that assurance enough to snap him out of his state of disbelief. Their baby wouldn’t have it. “But Mace—you and Mal?”
“It affects men differently, little brother. In men, all it does is eventually render us sterile by destroying our ability to produce viable semen. Malcolm and I were both sterile by the time we were fifteen.”
“You both have children,” Edward stated, confusion returning.
“I’ll explain that part of this whole mess in few minutes. Back to what happened after Father found out, okay?”
“Fine, keep going!”
“Father lost it, like I said. As punishment for not telling him before the marriage, he forced Mother to continue to have children, even though she got weaker and weaker after each pregnancy and birth. She was unable to conceive naturally, so Father made the geneticist from Heritage Breeders impregnate her through IVF. She then delivered via C-section, because she wasn’t able to deliver them naturally after you were born.”
“This is insane.”
“Yes, it is, because Father is insane. No normal, sane human being would do anything like this,” Mason said, putting his hand on Edward’s arm. “I’m almost to the good part, so hold it together.”
Edward breathed in deep, and nodded, letting the air out slowly.
“Father got rid of everyone who knew. About the disease and Mother’s forced pregnancies and the IVF and about Mal and I having it. He pretended there was nothing wrong, and he let Mother die from her disease. Everything was kept a secret. He let the geneticist live, and eventually made him a minister, just in case the disease worsened in any of us. And not because he loves us, Eddie, not really. Because he didn’t want to risk the truth getting out. The line of Airric is supposed to be all but infallible, and the woman he marries almost destroys his house. It was never her fault, but he’s insane.”
Mason gripped his wrist, squeezing hard.
“Years go by, and the world knows no different. Mal knows because of the testing. I know because Mother told me the day she died, and I read all the journals she kept. Things were held in a horrible pattern of deceit and threats and betrayal, right up until the random day you decided you wanted to be a daddy.”
Edward’s eyes went to Percy. Thick, long reddish brown hair and ice-blue eyes, set in a face both handsome and pretty, part of a body that was graceful and strong. Perseus was the epitome of perfection, and yet it was the mind and heart under the physical perfection that enticed Edward and beguiled him. It was the human man under the designer body that Edward fell in love with, and it was with a horrible pang that Edward realized that he was not a decent person.
If he had chosen a different breeder that day, if there hadn’t been an error on Heritage’s part that day and Percy never made it into the show room, then Edward would have bought a different breeder, fucked it until it bore him a child, and he would have retired it to his estate like an old pet until he wanted another child. Edward would have gone on with his life, and never once given a thought to just how wrong it was that people were made for the selfish use of others, stunted in growth and mental acuity, and forced to breed. Even the pleasure slaves were designed to have no free will and be driven by sexual needs, and any thought to the potential of the human being under the sex was never once considered.
He never thought about it. He was never cruel to the few slaves he’d met, and while he was curious, he never bothered to understand. It didn’t affect him or his life, so it didn’t matter. None of it mattered until Percy.
“I see you’re about to fall apart, but I need you to listen to me, Edward. You can fall apart in your misplaced grief and guilt in a few minutes, but I need you to listen to me now.”
“I’m listening,” Edward whispered, eyes on Mason because if he looked back at his lovely mate he would indeed fall apart.
“When you took Percy home, when you fell in love with him and then collared him, you forced Father’s hand. He would have let you have any breeder but Percy. The proprietor of Heritage went to his old buddy, the Minister, and then the Minister approached Father. He told Father that if Percy wasn’t returned, then he would leak to the press the whole sordid ordeal with Mother, Mal’s and I’s sterility, our sisters’ birth. All of it. He promised Father that he would replace Percy to appease you, give Father a part of the profits from cloning and breeding Percy to produce more like him, and in return nothing would be revealed about the disease that leaves Mal and me out of the line of succession.”
“Mason, dear God….”
“So that is what brought us to this current situation. You failed to turn over Percy and got him pregnant. I failed to keep my mouth shut and toe the line like I had the last twenty years, so I was beaten and tortured. The people I loved were finally out of harm’s way, so I was getting my punishment instead of them. Percy needs to go back to Heritage, but not until he births his baby. Father needs your child. Because he failed to return Percy to Heritage, the truth can be revealed at any time, and everyone will know. Father can’t have that. He needs your child as a back-up plan to the truth getting out. He would take you, but he knows now that controlling you is as pointless as controlling me.”
“Mason, are you saying…”
“Mal is sterile. He cannot sire heirs. So am I. Our children are not ours, but our father’s bastards. Neither of us can continue the line of Airric. Our sisters cannot inherit because of the laws put in place almost a century ago, prohibiting artificial conception to protect Airric’s line from foreign DNA in a coup attempt. Only a Cassian conceived naturally can inherit, and that royal must be able to continue the line. The only Cassian Royal in the direct line of succession who meets all the criteria is you, and through you, your unborn child.”
Edward’s mind was spinning. He could hear Percy demanding that Reynard let him go, that he wanted to go to him. He could see Lord Lucius laughing into his wine out of the corner of his eye. But all Edward could do was cling to his big brother’s hand, and let everything he knew about his family fall apart in his mind and heart.