Page 40 of This Prince Is Not Charming

I looked down at my cock, still hard, and the dream I’d been having flooded back to me. Fucking fuck. I needed everyone to leave my chambers immediately.

I grabbed a pillow and covered my lap.

“Lady Margaret,” Sir Arthur said. “Has this miscreant offended you?”

Her hands dropped from her eyes. “Um, no! Just surprised me is all.” She let out a weak laugh.

“I told you, I’m not a miscreant. I’m the high prince.”

“Liar!” Sir Arthur pushed his sword harder into my neck.

“Sir Arthur!” Margaret yelled. “That is the High Prince of Fairwitch Isle. He’s not lying.”

The knight paused, his sword drawing back and relieving some of the pressure on my throat. “I want to believe you, Lady Margaret, but I’m afraid he might be tricking you as well.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled.

“Then why is a portrait of him hanging in this room?” Margaret stepped aside, and Sir Arthur’s head snapped in the direction of the painting of me.

“That doesn’t look like him,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

Sir Arthur studied me from behind his helmet, the gap for the eyes completely dark, which I’d always found a little creepy. “Your hair is a mess. Your cheeks are all flushed. Your eyes are red. Nothing like that handsome bloke in the painting.”

My ego was really taking a hit today. “That is me. I am him. I just woke up. Give me an hour and I’ll be identical to that painting.”

“Sir Arthur, this is our prince,” Margaret said. “I wouldn’t get something like that wrong.”

He hesitated a moment before relenting and pulling back his sword. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, Your Majesty.”

“It’s okay. You may return to your post in the foyer.”

“Yes! There are real intruders to be found!” He marched off, his armor clinking as he went, the doors to my bedroom shutting behind him.

My head thunked against the plush, cushioned headboard. What a way to wake up. Ceri’s warm, plump lips flashed in my mind, and my cock twitched. Especially after I was having such a good dream.

“I wanted to let you know this morning went well with Mr. Morgane.”

I jolted. I’d forgotten Margaret was still in the room. I cleared my throat. “Thank you for doing that.” I’d fallen asleep on the rooftop next to Ceri last night, waking up to the sound of yowling.

Meera had been catching a mouse because the fish hadn’t been enough for her. I’d asked Meera to portal Ceri into her bed, and I’d gone back to the castle and arranged for our chefs to have scones and tea delivered and for Margaret to be there when Ceri’s father awoke.

I knew better than anyone how important routine was for him, and I also knew Ceri was tired and needed rest. After the events of yesterday, I just wanted her to be able to sleep in without interruptions. I normally would’ve delivered the scones and tea myself, but I was also exhausted and desperately needed to shut the world out.

“So he was all right?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. We had such a good chat.” She paused. “Well, it was mainly me talking and him listening, but he seemed to delight in my stories.”

“Gossip,” I coughed into my fist.

Margaret narrowed her eyes. “That was very kind of you to send me to Mr. Morgane so that Ceri could rest.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “And how do you know that’s why I sent you?”

“I can’t think of any other reason.”

I huffed. “Because I normally visit with Mr. Morgane so Ceri can rest, and I wasn’t able to be there this morning.”