"He's conscious." The doctor lowered his voice as he stepped back from the bed and gave Caillen a reprieve from that vicious light. "Do you know who you are, son?"
He licked his dry lips and cleared his sore throat before he answered raggedly. "Caillen. Dagan." Or rather that was who he'd been before they beheaded him.
Did the keepers of hell not know who was sent to them?
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
Caillen had to blink several times before the doctor's pudgy phalanges came into focus. At least he hoped that's what he was seeing...
If not, that man was real popular with women.
"Three."
The doctor turned to his right and bowed low. "He's awake and alert. But he's still weak from the asphyxiation and the subsequent resuscitation."
Resuscitation? From beheading? What the hell had they done to him and why would they bring him back?
More torture?
Gah, what did I do now?
Oh wait, that was too much to count. The point was what had they caught him doing now...
Caillen scowled as an older man stepped out of the shadows and approached his bed. Clean-shaven and well-kempt, he had finely boned features and vivid blue eyes. There was an air of refinement that seemed to emanate straight from the man's DNA. Yeah, he was definitely an aristo. A major one at that.
Why would someone so high ranking be here to see a common piece of condemned filth?
The man's lips trembled as his eyes misted--that concerned Caillen more than anything else. Was the man that angry or that upset?
Oh shit, don't tell me I slept with his wife.
Or worse, his daughter.
The other thing Darling always complained about was that one day Caillen's wandering penis was going to get him killed...
Was this the day?
"Do you remember me?" the man asked hesitantly. "Even a little?"
Did he owe him money? Caillen searched his mind, but couldn't think of any time or place he'd have seen this man. "Uh... no. Should I?"
The old man's lips quivered as he took Caillen's hand that was bound in a padded lear cuff to the bed rail and held it in a cold grasp.
Completely weirded out by that, Caillen jerked his hand away from his grasp and balled it into a fist. But because of the restraints, he couldn't move it far.
"You're my son, Radek. Don't you remember?"
Oh yeah. The man was high. He had to be sucking in some kind of serious fumes for that delusion. "I'm Caillen Dagan. My father was a smuggler."
"No." There was no missing the anger underlying his defensive tone. "You are Kaden Radek Aluzahn de Orczy," he carefully enunciated each name as if trying to impress it on Caillen, "and you are my son. You were only a toddler when you were kidnapped. I paid the ransom they demanded. All of it. I followed every stipulation they made but they never returned you. My security detail assumed they'd killed you. Even so, I searched relentlessly for some sign of you for years. Nothing was ever found. Not a single trace... Not until now."
Baffled, Caillen turned to the doctor. "Bullshit."
The doctor shook his head. "You're a lucky man. When the prison staff ran your DNA to see if you were a match for any unsolved crimes, it popped up your old kidnapping report and the DNA that was on file from your childhood hairs they'd collected. You are indeed his missing son."
No, no, no, no, no.
"I came as soon as they notified me they'd found you," the man interjected.
The doctor inclined his head respectively before he continued. "His Majesty arrived right before they issued the order to behead you. One more second and it would have been too late."
Majesty... That title permeated the fog in Caillen's mind. If this guy was an emperor and he was his son...
That would make him a...
Oh yeah, right. They were so screwing with him. This was complete and utter crap. "I'm not a prince." No krikkin way. Fate would not be that bored today.
Nah, this was some shit one of his friends was pulling. "Who put you up to this? Nykyrian or Darling?"
The doctor smiled. "You are indeed a prince, Your Highness. We double-checked your DNA against your father's when you were brought in and there is no doubt whatsoever. You are Emperor Evzen's son. His only son."
Caillen's mind reeled. He might not recognize the man, but he knew the name Reginahn Evzen Tyralehn de Orczy. Emperor to both the Garvon and Exeter systems, his name was synonymous with power and wealth.
Was it really possible?
No. No way. His sisters and parents had always said he was family. If he'd been a foundling, wouldn't they have told him? Given how poor they were why would his father take in another mouth to--
ther'the son I always dreamed of. I'm so glad to have you as part of my family..." His father's often uttered words now took on a whole new meaning. All his life he'd assumed his dad was grateful for the additional Y chromosome in their all-female home. But if he'd taken him in...
"I've risked everything to keep you alive. Don't let it be for nothing. Not after all I've given to keep you with us." Was that what his dad had meant when he'd said that one day Caillen would understand?
Was that why his father had been so adamant that he never disclose his DNA? Why his father had been so damn paranoid about everything? When it came to conspiracies, the man was as creative as he was psychotic. But if he'd known who Caillen really was...
It all made sense.
Caillen couldn't breathe as reality assaulted him.
Holy crap. I'm a prince.
Now ain't that a bitch? All the times in his life he'd had to scrape for every credit and here he was related to one of the richest men in the Nine Systems.
Yeah, that would be my luck.
The emperor took his hand again. "Don't you remember anything about your life before you were kidnapped?"
"No. Sorry. Are you sure you have the right person?"
He let go of Caillen's hand to pull out his wallet. He flipped it open to a picture and pressed it.
There was a beautiful woman in royal robes holding a bald baby boy who couldn't even sit up on his own. She was smiling and waving the baby's hand. "Radek... say, 'Hello, Daddy.' " But what held Caillen entranced was how much the woman favored him. They had the same coloring, the same eyes, nose and lips. Same dark hair...
Something he'd never shared with his sisters or parents. His dad had told him he took his coloring from a great-grandparent who'd died before his birth.
Now he knew that had been a major lie too. He saw his real mother's face and there was no denying it.
She was his mother.
And with that came a forgotten memory of his sister Kasen telling him once when they were kids and she'd been angry at him that he'd been found abandoned in a garbage dump. That had garnered her the worst beating of her childhood. He'd written it off as typical sibling harassment and a stressed parent's overreaction.
But if he really had been found in the garbage, that explained why his father had gone ballistic over her taunt.
Weird as it was, a lot of things he'd questioned over the years now made total sense.
Shit...
I am royalty.
erwhelmed by his new reality, he looked up at the father he'd never met and wondered about the rest of his blood family. "That's my mother?"
His father nodded as sadness darkened his gaze. It was obvious that even after all this time, the event still hurt him. "She died trying to fight off your kidnappers. I found her in your nursery, and..." He clenched his eyes shut as if trying to blot out that memory. "I lost everything that mattered to me that day. And I do mean everything. What good is it to rule the world when you can't even protect the ones you love?"
Caillen turned his attention back to the smiling image of the mother he'd never known--he'd been just a kid when his adoptive mother had died. Even though he'd lived with her, he barely remembered her either, and he had no memory whatsoever of the woman who'd given him life a
nd then died trying to protect him. He didn't know which one of those scenarios saddened him most.
His father blinked back his tears and swallowed hard. "I loved your mother, Radek. She was beauty incarnate. And I've never remarried. No woman ever came close to her in any way and I didn't want to shame her memory by marrying someone else to fulfill an obligation. Even a royal one. Not when she gave her life for us." He closed the wallet and held it over his heart. "I wish she'd lived to see this moment. To see you. You favor her so much that it's like I have you both back at once. I can't believe I finally found you after all these years."
What should he say to that?
Thanks?
Yeah, no, that was stupid. For the first time in his life, words failed him.
It was so surreal. Things like this didn't happen to people like him. Kicks in the groin. Imprisonment. Clients turning you into the authorities. Collectors shooting you dead in the street... that was what happened to third-generation smugglers.
They didn't wake up from an execution to become a prince. It just didn't happen.
Caillen tried to reach for the photo wallet and cursed at his bound hands. "Why am I restrained?"
The doctor came forward to free him. "Sorry, Your Highness. It was only a precaution. We didn't want you to wake up and hurt yourself."
Right... more likely they were afraid he'd wake up and attack them.
As soon as his arms were freed, Caillen rubbed his wrists and stared at his father. "This isn't some weird-ass joke or prank one of my friends is pulling on me, right?"
There was no feigning the sincere offense on his father's face or in his stance. "I would never joke about something like this."
No, he guessed not. Still, it was a hard fact to accept. Everything he thought he knew about himself was now brought into question. It was such a strange, lost feeling. Everyone he'd ever trusted had lied to him. His parents. His sisters.
He wasn't who and what he thought. Everything he'd been told about his family and his past was a lie...
Everything.
But for one freak event that'd happened at a point in his life he couldn't remember, his entire childhood and past would have been completely different. He would have been completely different. There would have been no poverty. No hiding.
He wouldn't have had any of his teen trauma. He wouldn't have been there to help his sisters...
It was overwhelming to contemplate that he was now someone else.
Someone he didn't know.
I have a father...
Caillen glanced to the doctor before he returned his gaze to his father's. "So what does this mean exactly?"
His father smiled. "This means you're about to have a whole new world, my boy. You're finally going to live the life you were born to."
Caillen wasn't sure that was a good thing. In his experience, change came in with a furry harbinger that usually sprayed crap all over him. Seldom was change for the better.
But at least he wasn't dead.
Yet.
One second more though, according to the doctor, and he would have been.
I'm a prince. That reality kept circling in his head.
You thought you had enemies before? Buddy, you ain't seen enemies yet. This kind of money made people stupid. Most of all, it made them mean. Angry. Jealous and cruel. Everybody wanted to take rather than earn. When they couldn't do that, they just wanted to spew venom and animosity.
Yeah, he was definitely cursed and things were going to get ugly.
Fast.
4
Two Months Later
"Sit up straight in the chair."
What am I?
Five?
Grinding his teeth to keep from lashing out, Caillen did as instructed. A little belligerently, granted, still he did obey as he'd promised his father he would. But it was hard to sit up straight when what he really wanted to do was give the pompous ass in front of him a goblet enema. He felt like he was drowning in nine million layers of heavy fabric. Honestly, how could any aristocrat be fat if they carried this much clothing weight on their bodies all the time? How much food would you have to eat to gain weight? Forget the gym, he felt like he was bench-pressing a ton.
And it wasn't even weight you could use to blow shit up. That he could understand hauling around. This? This was ridiculous. He rubbed at his neck where hives were forming from the high starched collar.
At least you still have your head.
Yeah, but that wasn't as appealing right now as it'd been a few months ago. He glanced over to two of his best friends who watched him and the cultural advisor with a stoicism that didn't match the amused gleam in their traitorous eyes. Little bastards were enjoying every minute of his misery.
Eat it up, assholes. My vengeance will come. And you will bleed.
But he knew the truth. He'd never hurt either of them. He'd only imagine the strangulation. They'd been through too much together for him to hold something like this against them.
Lean with dark red hair, Darling Cruel was as reserved and regal as any monarch could be which made sense since he was from one of the oldest aristocratic families. He was immaculately dressed in a black suit trimmed with white that was covered with a lightweight, flowing black dignitary robe. The son of a royal governor and a high prince himself, he was used to crap like this. Yet for all of Darling's breeding, Caillen knew the truth of his renegade friend--a rebellious side no one would ever suspect of him. Darling's shoulder-length hair covered one side of his face and hid a bad scar that Darling never spoke about. Caillen was one of the few who knew how he'd gotten it.
With perfect, unblemished features that would make any woman proud, Maris Sulle was much more flamboyant. His long black hair was tied back and braided with silver beads running through it. He wore a vibrant orange-and-yellow robe that trailed on the ground and pooled in a graceful mess around his red-booted feet. Obviously Maris wasn't concerned about mobility 'cause he'd never had to run a day in his extravagant life. Rather he ordered other people to run for him.
Maris's and Darling's friendship went back to early childhood. Caillen had met Maris about ten years ago and had hated him at first because of that spoiled arrogance that bled out of every gesture he made and from every piece of expensive fabric he wore. But Maris was like Gondarion spiderweed--he clung to you and after a while you learned to appreciate the strange beauty that was his quirky sense of humor and his uniquely skewed take on the world around him. Now Caillen treasured his friendship as much as he did Darling's.
The two of them were a vivid contrast to the stone-faced, drab-dressed cultural advisor--Bogimir--who glared at him with open disdain. The man didn't think much of Caillen which was okay by him. He didn't think much of Boggi either.
Bogimir cleared his throat. That sound was really starting to tread Caillen's last nerve into hash meat. "Are you paying attention to me, Your Highness?"
Caillen let out a long breath of annoyance. "Yeah, yeah, Boggi." It was a moral imperative that he use the nickname he knew drove Bogimir insane. "I'm with you."
Bogimir narrowed that beady little gaze that made Caillen want to put his foot in a highly uncomfortable plae on Boggi's body. "You mean to say, yes, I see."
Caillen ground his teeth before he corrected his enunciation and words. "Yes, I see." Asshole.
Boggi gestured to the table. "Now take a sip of your wine."
His biceps screaming over the weight of his clothes and his gall begging him to toss the contents into Boggi's contemptuous face, Caillen reached for the cup and picked it up.
Instantly, Boggi started that agitated dance that would only come in handy if walking barefoot on coals or trying to stomp out a nest of fire snakes. "No, no, no. The correct way to hold your goblet is like this." He snatched it from Caillen's hand to demonstrate the proper use.
Caillen rolled his eyes. Damn pathetic when even drinking something was a production. What the hell was wrong with these people? Did it really make a difference ho
w he picked up a krikkin cup and drank out of it? Was that really all they had to worry about in their worthless, overprivileged, overindulged lives?
Boggi set the cup down and glared at him. "Try again."
Caillen curled his lip. "Ah screw this shit." Yanking his blaster out from under his robes, he shot the cup. He laughed as it spun up from the table so that he could shoot it again three more times. On the last round, it shattered and rained fragments all over the floor before the bowl landed upside down at Boggi's feet.
Now that was entertaining.
But Boggi didn't think so. He huffed and puffed, then scurried for the door no doubt to tell on him like one of his sisters had done when they were kids.
Whatever. With three older sisters, Caillen was used to being bitched at. And honestly, his father was an amateur compared to his sisters.
Darling didn't make a sound until they were alone with Maris. Once the room was clear, he and Maris burst out laughing. "You are evil to your worthless rotten core."
"Abso-krikkin-lutely." Caillen blew across the hot tip of his blaster before he bent over and divested himself of the stifling clothes by twisting them off his body to land with a thump on the floor. Bare except for his black pants and boots, he holstered his weapon, then met Darling's amused expression. "How are you people sane? Really? I grieve exponentially for the childhood you must have had. Don't touch this. Don't do that. Hold the cup like this," he said in a high-pitched, mocking tone as he crooked his hand into a claw. Then he dropped his voice to its usual baritone. "Never thought I'd be grateful for poverty. But you know what? I pity the rich. Y'all don't know how to live."
Darling smiled. "There's a reason I hang out with riffraff like you."
Maris shook his head at both of them. "Your father's going to have conniptions over this."
Leave it to Maris to use a girl word like conniptions.
"Maris is right, Cai. You only have two days to master this before your debut into society. God help us all and especially you." Darling pulled his lightweight robe off and handed it to him. "Trust me, you can't be shooting defenseless goblets at the dinner table in front of emperors and governors. You could cause an interstellar incident."
Caillen snorted. "Didn't realize goblets were a protected class of species. Fine. Can I shoot tableware or is it protected too?"