M/M Romance / MPreg
Date Published: September 21, 2018
Emory is a humble kitchen servant intent on working hard so he can continue to earn his daily crust of bread. It is a thankless, back-breaking job, but it is exactly where Emory wants to be. In the magnificent West Quay castle. Because that is where the incredibly handsome, extremely talented Crown Prince Riffyn lives. The beautiful, kind, and attentive man stole Emory’s heart years before when he rescued him and his mother from a band of thieves. Now Emory’s only wish is to be close, so he can simply admire and serve the man.
But a great evil walks the halls of the castle, and Emory stumbles on a heinous plot to not only kill the prince but a possible plan to overthrow the Kingdom. A wicked scheme that includes the use of magic. Of course, being a lowly servant, no one believes Emory when he tries to raise the alarm, including the prince, who has been commanded to choose a bride now, or one will be chosen for him. Even as Emory’s heart breaks for his prince, he has to find a way to save him. But how, when no one, not even the king, the prince’s own father, can be trusted?
Excerpt
Emory
was surprised when he opened his eyes next. The room was bathed in bright sunlight.
Sucking in a breath for sleeping so late into the day, he shot out of the bed
and headed for the door he shared with the prince’s chambers. He grabbed the
handle and pushed just enough to see what he could be facing upon entering the prince’s
room.
Riffyn
was up and sitting at his desk, a tray of what must be breakfast sat beside
him. Emory could smell the coffee from where he stood, and he longed for just a
taste. But then other fragrances assaulted him. There was bacon and fresh
bread, possibly something cinnamon, all sitting on that tray.
“Thank
you, Duncan,” the prince said.
Duncan?
Emory
had totally missed the servant who had brought the tray in. Duncan moved around
the prince, his attention on the man’s torso, which was bare and breathtaking.
Evidently, Riffyn had only just woke as well. He sat, shuffling papers, as if
searching for one in particular. Emory couldn’t help but stare at the prince.
Oh, how he wanted to touch him, suck on those dark nipples.
“Let
me pour your coffee, Your Highness,” Duncan breathed from behind the prince,
far too close to the prince’s ear. But Riffyn gave no reaction at all. He
seemed to be intent on the paper he now held in his hand.
Duncan
poured the coffee and handed the mug to Riffyn. “Your Highness?”
“Ahh.
Yes. Thank you.” Riffyn took the mug and sipped the steaming liquid as he gazed
up at Duncan, who had come around the front again. “You have done well,
Duncan.” The prince seemed to coo and then smiled at Duncan, who beamed back.
Emory’s heart squeezed tight with jealousy, wishing it was him who the prince
gave that smile. So much so, he wanted to cry. But then Emory must have made
some sort of noise because the prince glanced over at him standing hiding in
the doorway.
“Emory!
You’re finally awake. Come out. Breakfast is served. There is plenty for the
both of us.”
Emory
stepped out from the doorway. He could do nothing else when the prince commanded
him. But he did not relish the fact that Duncan startled at the sound of his
name and swung around, eyes as big as the plates he had brought in.
“Emory? What are you doing in the prince’s chambers?”
His
tone was accusatory, one of authority, gruff and hateful. In all other
instances, Emory would have shrunk at its harshness, knowing he had to have
committed a heinous crime. But that was not the case here. He had done nothing
wrong. Still, his heart jumped painfully, and he did stop immediately, his stomach
protesting, probably believing it was going to be starved of food again for
possibly days as was the usual punishment. But then Emory’s gaze met Riffyn’s
and he instantly calmed.
“Duncan,”
the prince challenged quietly from behind him. “Do you believe I need to
explain myself to you when I have a guest in my chambers? Is that your place?”
Duncan
scowled at Emory before he turned back to Riffyn. “No, my prince. I apologize
for my rudeness. Forgive me, Your Highness.” To Duncan’s credit, he did appear to be apologetic. He waited,
hands behind his back, and Emory could tell his gaze was on the floor in front
of him even though he was turned away from him. Riffyn glanced up to Emory,
smiled, and winked, before he answered Duncan.
“You
are forgiven. But it will never happen again, correct?”
“No,
Your Highness. Never.”
“Good.
You are excused.” Once again, Riffyn glanced toward Emory. “Come, Emory. Sit. I
will pour you some coffee.” Riffyn picked up the decanter and poured the
contents into an empty bowl. “I apologize I did not have two mugs brought up,
but I think you should be able to manage.”
Emory
hurried to the desk and took the offered bowl, wanting to remind the prince he
was not supposed to be serving him, but due to the fact Duncan had yet to
actually leave the room, he chose not to say anything. He hazarded a glance at
Duncan and the daggers the man was shooting with his eyes made Emory shiver.
“Are
you still chilled from last night? You should have brought a blanket with you.”
Riffyn rose and walked to his own messy bed, grabbed the top cover, and pulled
it off. It was then that Emory realized he had forgotten about his own state of
dress, which was only a borrowed nightshirt, clearly too large for him. It was
thankfully rather long, but his legs were still very bare, and he couldn’t even
fathom how it must appear to Duncan. Riffyn walked to Emory, swept the blanket
around his shoulders, and guided him, with his arm around him, to sit in the
chair in front of his desk. “As you can see, we have your amazing fresh sweet rolls.
You might actually be tired of them, being you work in the kitchen, but they
are my favorite.”
“I’ve…
never had them, Your Highness.”
“What?
Are you serious? Oh yes. The incomparable Master Merrill. I will see to him today. In the meantime, I dare to
say, Emory, you are in for a treat.”
Emory had his back to
Duncan now, so he couldn’t see him, but he could feel the loathing pouring off
him. Then, gratefully, the doors clicked shut, which told him Duncan had
finally left and most likely gone running to tell the kitchen master about
Emory’s horrible impropriety of being half naked in the crown prince’s
chambers. It would be all over the castle before the next sunrise
About the Author
Hurri Cosmo lives in Minnesota where she holds tight to the idea that there, where it’s cold a good part of the year, she won’t age as fast. Yep, she avoids the truth as much as she avoids mirrors. But one of the reasons she loves writing is reality doesn’t always offer up a “happily ever after” and being able to take control of that is a powerful lure. Being a happy ending junkie, writing just makes them easier to find. Oh, she doesn’t mind “real life” and she does try to at least keep it in mind when she writes her stories, but she truly loves creating a wonderful couple, knowing they will fall in love and have their HEA. Every - single - time. And, of course, that is exactly the reason she loves reading this genre, too. Give her a glass of red wine, some dark chocolate, and her computer, whether she is reading or writing, and she will entertain herself for hours. The fact she actually gets paid to do it is Snickers bars on the frosting on the cake.
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