Chapter 70

CHARLES

After the disaster in the forest following Mila’s kidnapping, I flew quickly into the night.

Hades and I fled for hours, desperate to get out of Fresonian airspace and the ever-reaching grasp of my brother. I had thought I could rely on the gang to get the work done–I had been sorely, sorely mistaken.

Hades and I finally found shelter at the southern tip of the Dragon’s Teeth mountain range, just over the border in the neighboring kingdom of Sagrada. We stayed there for a few days, only venturing out to find food. Once I realized that Felix had not sent any search parties my way, I was able to relax.

On the third day, I made my way into the capital city.

Sagrada and Fresonia had long been allies, mainly due to the fact that the royal families shared the same secret: we were all Dragon Knights. Sagrada was a bit more traditional than Fresonia, and it was only last year that one of my high-ranking noble cousins on my mother’s side had been married off to the eldest son and heir of the Sagradan royal family.

I was uninterested in talking to the heir. Frankly, he was boring and useless, much like my older brother.

I was really interested in speaking with his younger brother.

All royal families were the same: there was the heir, and the spare. The heir was showered with the praise and attention and power, and the spare faded into the background. Once the heir started having children of their own, the spare was nothing more than a distant memory.

I knew that the second son of the Sagradan royal family felt overlooked and underappreciated–it was a conversation I’d had with him myself many times over the years. And so as I traipsed into the capital, it was not the gleaming palace I headed for–rather, I walked to a high-rise apartment building just off the main square.

Rico was pleased to see me when he opened the door.

“Charles! It’s been a long time!” he said. “How are things going over in Fresonia?”

I smiled and made polite small talk with him as he prepared us tea. Sagrada had a strong culture of hospitality, and although Rico might have hated his family, the traditions of the country ran in his blood.

I understood completely.

“I’m here to talk to you about something… sensitive,” I said, sipping on the tea as we surveyed the penthouse view. “Something about my brother.”

Rico raised an eyebrow. “Is there something wrong with Felix?”

“He is an unfit ruler,” I said carefully. “I’ve known it for years, but recently, he has completely abandoned his duties as heir in order to bed an American commoner.”

Rico frowned. “That does not sound like something your father would approve of.”

I rolled my eyes. “My parents dote on him constantly. He can do no wrong in their eyes. He can blow off meetings, shirk his duties, have pictures of his dick splashed all over the tabloids. None of it matters.”

Rico sighed heavily. “I know the feeling. My parents are completely blind to Marcello’s shortcomings, even though he has quite a few.”

Marcello, the heir to the Sagradan throne, was even more of a dolt than Felix. I clapped a sympathetic hand on Rico’s shoulder.

“To be completely honest with you, my friend, I’ve been thinking of doing something about it,” I said. I monitored his reaction carefully–I did not want to rush Rico into the idea of mutiny. It was one he had to come to on his own.

Rico smirked at me. “Like trying to take over? Charles, that’s a big step, even for you.”

I shrugged. “I fear for my country, Rico, if it falls into Charles’s hands in a few weeks. Don’t you want to see a true leader on the Fresonian throne? Or even on your own?”

Rico stared down into his teacup for a moment, considering.

“I think we need something stronger,” he said eventually, and rose from his chair. He pulled a bottle of whiskey from underneath the kitchen counter and took a long sip.

“What you’re suggesting is treason,” he said as he swallowed the whiskey. “A total upheaval.”

I strode across the room to him. “Maybe that’s exactly what my kingdom needs.”

Rico took another sip. “If I am being completely transparent, Charles, I’ve had similar thoughts of my own.”

I tried to hide my excitement.

“I’m creating an army,” I declared. “An army of second sons. Of spares. Of all of us who have felt pushed to the side in favor of our older brothers, whose only accomplishment was being born first.”

A wicked grin spread across Rico’s face. “Every good general needs a second-in-command. Has that position been filled yet?”

I took a shot of whiskey for myself. “That’s why I came to you first, Rico. Welcome to the cause.”

Rico and I spent the next several days traveling to the surrounding kingdoms, recruiting spares to our army. Many of the small kingdoms in the area had magical beings of some sort for their royal family–Dragon Knights, warlocks, shapeshifters. I wanted their strength, but I also wanted their magic.

It was easier than I thought to convince people to join us. Many men jumped at the chance to seize their own throne or simply show up their older brother. Soon enough, we had the children of lesser nobles joining us as well, desperate for any chance of power.

We amassed forces from Sagrada, Wisteria, the South Smyth Islands, Prazole, and the Whitelands. With each new addition, I could feel a surge of power. This was a real army, and we were all motivated by the most noble cause of all: revenge.

Felix would never see us coming.

We gathered in the Dragon’s Teeth mountains on the border of Fresonia and Sagrada. We all combined our magic to put up a thick, impenetrable cloaking spell, shielding us from any prying eyes.

Sure enough, a few days after our arrival, I caught a glimpse of Felix and Ignatius flying through the skies above us. But they did not approach.

We remained hidden.

We had been in the mountains for nearly two weeks, plotting and planning, when Rico approached me with a scrap of newspaper.

“Thought you might want to see this,” he said, tossing it at me. I frowned and opened the paper.

Big, bold letters publicly declared the engagement of my brother to Mila Benson of America. The paper was full of photos of the happy couple, my parents embracing Mila, and Mila being presented with a sparkly tiara.

I felt nauseous. That stupid slut had gotten a crown before I did. Despite my best efforts to break those two up, love somehow found a way.

But as I stared at the pictures, a plan began to form in my head.

I excused myself to my private tent. Once there, I placed a long-distance call.

She picked up after three rings. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Isabella,” I said, my voice coming out in a soft croon. “What a pleasure it is to hear your voice.”

As I talked to her, surveying the cities of Fresonia spread out before me like charms on a necklace, a slow smile spread across my face.

It would not be long before it was all mine.