Page 5 of His King Enslaved

Of course, he would be called that. Flowers always had names from the divine tongue, things like Desire and Ambrosia, so why not? Sindar found it amusing once, but now he understood. Those names were no laughing matter. It was a dire warning to foolish royals who considered themselves above such things.

“Briefly,” Sindar said, trying to stay aloof, but he ached to wring the details out of them. How long had Ardor been here? What were his interests? Did he like clean-shaven princes?

“Your brother has been Eminence Ardor’s consort for six months. Normally, we would expect a Flower to become pregnant within the first month. There have been... complications.”

“Complications?” Sindar echoed.

Ambani cleared her throat delicately.

Sindar’s hackles rose. Xandar was well-known for his lack of compassion and empathy. He was, to put it mildly, extremely fucking mean. “What did he do to him?” he growled, with a possessiveness he had no right to carry. When they didn’t answer quickly enough, he added, “Out with it. Tell me at once. What did he do?”

“His Majesty believed Eminence Ardor was... defective,” Ambani said, decidedly uncomfortable.

As well she should be! It was the height of slander. If that vision of loveliness was “defective,” Sindar was a monkey’s uncle. “What the hell does that mean? Defective how?”

“Impotent,” Ambani said.

An impotent Flower? Sindar was no expert on the subject, but he knew one thing: the Flowers were the only thing keeping the extinction of the ruling class at bay. They were gifts from the Goddess, fertility personified. To even suggest a Flower was impotent was slander, and to believe it was stupidity. Xandar might as well claim the ocean wasn’t wet, or the sun wasn’t hot. Sindar’s mind flitted through the possibilities and immediately seized on the most obvious.

“Xandar’s the one who’s impotent, and he’s too stupid to see it or too proud to admit it.” He laughed, humorless and harsh. “It turns out Xandar’s swimmers are as repellent as he is, and nobody had the guts to set him straight. Why am I not surprised?”

“Your Highness,” Ambani said, appalled.

“Sneer all you want,” Patel said, his tone severe. “What were we supposed to do? Tell him plainly and risk beheading? Have you forgotten what it’s like to live with a tyrant?”

Sindar’s superiority faded. They were right. There was no easy way to navigate this. As he considered, rusty political gears and mechanisms cranking to life in his mind, he said, “You were going to send for me, anyway. That’s how you made the arrangements so quickly.” A lump rose in his throat. “You don’t need me. You needed my sperm. That’s all you’ve ever needed from me.”

“Your Highness,” Ambani began, her voice quivering. “You have to understand…”

“Don’t start,” Sindar said sharply.

“Sin, please,” she insisted. “We didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is this why you saved me?” he asked Patel, his temper rising. “Did you see this coming? You saw everything else coming, didn’t you?”

“I saved you because I love you, you daft boy!” Patel snapped, slapping a hand onto the table. “I had one card to play, one, and I played it for you! I’d do it again, even knowing what would follow! But we are at a crisis point now, and this problem is far bigger than you or I. The marriage was supposed to strengthen our position, and now it’s making things worse. If word gets out that the King of Kysan cannot produce heirs, there will be a coup. A real one this time, and all the work Lady Ambani and I have done to secure our safety will be our undoing. We will not make it out alive.”

“Xandar had a plan, I presume. One that didn’t involve me siring his children.”

Patel’s look grew slightly pained. “He never confided in me, but I can make an educated guess. If Eminence Ardor is at fault, Kysan may argue breach of contract. Your brother intended to prove his Eminence is incapable of fulfilling his contractual duties. How, I don’t know, but he demanded a public breeding ceremony, and it is scheduled for this morning.”

“Well, cancel it,” Sindar said.

Now both his advisers looked pained. “We tried, Your Highness,” Ambani said. “Eminence Ardor invited Pavarian dignitaries to observe, and they have already arrived. Canceling now will raise too many questions, and we cannot afford additional scrutiny. We must go ahead as planned.”

They wanted him to bed the king’s Flower? They were out of their minds. “Nonsense, I’ll talk to him,” Sindar said. “He seems clever. He’ll understand.”

“Absolutely not,” Patel said. “That Pavarian is smart. As a whip, in fact, and he’s probably a spy. You should interact with him as little as possible.”

Sindar paused. “You’re not going to tell him about the switch?”

“Of course we’re not going to tell him! If he sends word to the Archon, we’re done for.”

“Your Highness,” Ambani said quickly, before Sindar could properly explode. “Please understand, this marriage is a political arrangement. We have promised his Eminence access to a royal consort so that he may have children. You are a royal. There is no breach of contract.”

Sindar swallowed his protests. He’d learned a few things while in exile. Two-to-one odds were not good. A bar fight taught him that. “All right,” he said. “All right. Fine. Give me time to get my head in order. I’ll be there.”

His advisers exchanged a look. Patel, knowing Sindar as he did, was clearly suspicious, but Ambani was relieved. “Yes, Your Highness. By your leave. I will coach you before the ceremony. It should be quick.”