Chapter 18: Which One of You Idiots?

The moment the door shut behind him, Darius stopped walking and leaned heavily against the wall. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face.

That had been a terrible idea.

A terrible, reckless, absolutely wonderful idea. Every second he had spent in that room had been pure torture. From the moment he stepped into the suite, he had been holding himself together by sheer force of will.

Who would have believed Prince Basil could be that obedient? The way he had followed his command despite clearly wanting to do the exact opposite. Fuck. But that was sexy as hell.

Darius drew in a sharp breath, trying to steady his pounding chest. I’m so fucked up.

He hadn’t even fully recovered from walking in on Basil completely naked, and then he had gone and pulled a stunt like that.

Darius shut his eyes. "I’m absolutely cooked."

In all twelve years of desperately dreaming about their reunion, not once had he imagined that the thing capable of completely undoing him would be watching Basil reluctantly obey him. The stubborn submission. The way Basil had clearly wanted to refuse and yet still found himself following his command.

Darius pressed the back of his head against the wall. "I’m really fucked up."

He shifted uncomfortably and briefly adjusted his trousers. "I can’t believe I’m actually sporting a hard-on just because of that. We’re supposed to be brothers now."

The words sounded ridiculous even to him.

"Oh, who am I kidding?"

Ending up as brothers had never been his goal. Not really. It had been the safest outcome he had prepared himself to accept if everything else proved impossible.

But after that little stunt, Darius didn’t know if he could endure being just brothers.

With a sigh, he pushed himself away from the wall, abandoning the serving cart in the hallway as he headed downstairs.

Some servant would eventually collect it.

Right now, he had somewhere else to be.

An invitation was waiting. Darius shoved his hands into his pockets and continued walking.

The palace grounds looked even more impressive beneath the late afternoon sun. Winding stone pathways stretched through meticulously maintained gardens, while fountains sparkled like liquid gold as sunlight danced across their surface. The gentle sound of cascading water drifted through the air alongside the scent of blooming flowers.

Darius still could not entirely believe he would be living in a place like this from now on.

Who would have believed that only a few weeks ago he had been sharing a cramped apartment and surviving on a waiter’s salary?

Now he lived in a palace. Life was weird.

A palace guard stationed near the courtyard entrance noticed him immediately and straightened.

"Your Highness. Do you require anything?"

Darius shook his head. "Just stepping out for a bit. Going to see a friend."

The guard’s expression immediately became serious. "I’ll accompany you."

Darius sighed. "That won’t be necessary. I won’t be gone long."

"I’m afraid it is necessary, Your Highness."

The guard looked genuinely apologetic.

"I’ve been assigned to remain with you until you’ve familiarized yourself with the palace grounds and the surrounding city. Those were His Majesty’s direct orders."

Darius’s jaw tightened. This was rapidly becoming annoying. Sure, he was glad to finally be reunited with his prince, but having an armed babysitter shadow his every single movement was exactly what he detested most about this sudden change in lifestyle. He needed freedom—especially with the plans he had in mind.

"And if you don’t follow the order?"

The guard visibly paled.

"I would be punished, Your Highness."

Darius stared at him for several moments before sighing again. "Fine. Then where is this king? I need to talk to him."

The guard blinked.

The casual way Darius referred to the King nearly made him choke. Fortunately, years of training prevented any visible reaction.

"His Majesty is currently in the Council Hall."

"Can you point me toward this Council Hall?"

The guard hesitated.

"His Majesty is presently conducting a meeting with the Crown Councilors."

"And how exactly does that answer what I asked?" Darius replied. "I asked for directions, not his schedule."

The guard opened and closed his mouth.

Interrupting a Crown Council meeting was practically unthinkable. Then again, Darius was the prince. More importantly, he was the reason today’s meeting existed in the first place. Surely nobody could punish him for wanting to speak with his own father.

After several seconds of internal suffering, the guard surrendered.

"I’ll take you there, Your Highness."

Darius grinned. "What are you waiting for then? Lead the way."

The guard turned and started walking.

Darius followed.

*****

Inside the Council Hall, the atmosphere was thick with suffocating tension, and King William was rapidly losing patience.

The long chamber was packed with nobles, ministers, military officials, and royal advisors seated around a massive circular table. The King sat at the head of it with one hand pressed against his temple.

The last few weeks had been exhausting.

His family was falling apart. His Queen cried almost daily. Basil was threatening to run away, and from what Jane had told him, Darius looked ready to start a war if Basil actually left.

And now he had to listen to grown adults argue like children.

"As I was saying," one councilor declared loudly, "Prince Darius must be formally introduced to the kingdom immediately."

Another immediately shook his head.

"Absolutely not. His Highness requires proper education regarding royal customs first. He spent his life outside noble society. There are traditions and protocols he may not yet understand."

"There will be plenty of time for that later," the first councilor snapped. "The kingdom needs to know who its true prince is. Many citizens still believe Basil is the legitimate heir!"

William’s jaw tightened.

The fact that they had already stopped calling Basil ’Prince Basil’ did not escape his notice.

Just a few weeks ago, these exact same men would have practically crawled on their hands and knees to get on Basil’s good side, hoping to secure future favors from the boy they believed would one day inherit the throne. But look at them now. They were throwing him to the wolves without a second thought.

"What is the impostor still doing inside the palace, Your Majesty?" a third councilor demanded, leaning forward to address William. "He stole twenty-one years from our prince. Why has he not been punished?"

William’s eyes instantly turned cold.

"He didn’t steal anything," another councilor interrupted before William could speak. "What happened was the result of his grandmother’s actions. Prince Basil did nothing wrong."

"Why are you still calling him prince?" the first man demanded. "And why are you constantly defending him? Did he put you up to this? Don’t you understand he’s a threat to Prince Darius? He could be plotting for the throne this very moment."

"Exactly." Another noble nodded in vehement agreement. "After all, the blood of that woman runs through his veins. If he’s allowed to remain here, he may attempt to steal Prince Darius’s position."

"Perhaps exile would—"

The enormous doors suddenly swung open.

The sound echoed loudly through the chamber. Every head turned.

Darius strode inside, his posture rigid and his expression dark. He looked nothing like the easy going, cheerful young man everyone had been hearing about for weeks. His face was hard, his eyes sharp, and the fury rolling off him was impossible to miss. There was not a single smile on his face. Only a coldness that immediately put the room on edge.

His blue eyes swept across the chamber once. The temperature seemed to drop.

"I’d really like to know," he said calmly, his voice carrying through the entire hall, "which one of you idiots just called my brother an impostor, and which one suggested exiling him?"