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Synopsis
Having chosen exile rather than face persecution at the hands of his family, Prince Stephan of Seveihar has finally found refuge in the south kingdom of Segor with his lover and former servant, Warren. For the first time in his life, Stephan is free to be who he really is, to explore his sexual identity and his fascination with all things feminine.
But it seems life has other plans, and the quiet happiness Stephan has run so far away to find is once again threatened by sinister forces from his past. Will Stephan and Warren’s newfound love be strong enough to weather the danger that could rip them apart forever?
Excerpt
smell of sea salt, exotic spices, and the promise of a distant sandstorm.
eyes against the gentle currents, and leaned on the windowsill, offering his
face up to the sun. It was not yet noon, but the heat was already building up.
Soon the busy streets of the port city of Varta would empty, the denizens
taking a brief respite during the midday hours to hide in the relative cool of
their homes, away from the glare of the ruthless sun. At dusk, all activity
would renew with rekindled vigor as the streets around the harbor filled with
the cries of peddlers hawking their wares, the music of wandering performers,
and the general hubbub of a large city going about its business. But for now,
Stephan simply enjoyed the bright sunshine, which had been so rare in his
native Seveihar, before he’d be forced to retreat to the shade of his rooms.
Warren, his former footman and current lover, for the past six months, sharing
the two cozy rooms in one of the quieter districts of Varta. The modest
appointments were a far cry from the richness of his father’s royal palace in
Sever, but luxury was low on Stephan’s priority list. These short months were
the happiest he’d been in his entire life. Granted, at twenty years old, he was
still at the beginning of his journey, but with his father gone and the rest of
the family actively persecuting him, he’d had his fair share of misery.
shutters. Even so, the room was still softly illuminated, filled with
translucent, soporific light. The hem of his white silk robe trailed after him
as he made his way to the large writing desk, cluttered with sheaves of paper
and different-colored inkwells. Warren, being the son of a merchant, was the
one with the experience and a practical grasp for business, and he had been the
one to suggest they invest the money left from selling Stephan’s extensive
collection of jewelry in local commerce. For centuries, Varta, the second
largest city of Segor, had been a crucial junction for the passage of goods
between the deep south and the northern countries and provinces—including
Seveihar and rival Esnia. With trade burgeoning in recent years, investing in
independent shipping ventures seemed like a sound plan, although they were only
now beginning to see any returns. None of it was enough to make a fortune, but
for now, at least, they were able to live comfortably.
out a stack of letters he wanted to sift through one more time. While Warren
was responsible for the finances, Stephan handled the records and
correspondence. As a member of the royal family, he was well-versed in several
languages, including Segati—a dialect spoken in Segor and along the long
stretch of the southern coast. But reading and writing with a teacher weren’t
the same as practicing the language among native speakers, and Stephan wanted
to brush up on his communication skills as much as possible to be able to
navigate the often-equivocal patterns of business negotiations with Segorian
merchants and ship owners.
piece of paper when the door opened, and Warren stepped in, letting out a long-suffering
sigh as he closed the door and took off his sweat-soaked scarf.
He threw his arms around Warren, planting a quick kiss on his lips. Warren’s
skin, flushed and hot, still carried traces of salt and fish smell.
Stephan’s hand and kissing his fingers. “I’ve only been gone a few hours. And I
still stink from the docks.”
leather-bound ledger sticking out of Warren’s coat pocket. “Any news?”
With the price of silk going up, we should make a nice profit off this
consignment.”
increase in prices,” Stephan teased. “You didn’t have to buy me quite so many
dresses.”
And I love seeing you in them.”
ledger on the desk. He was still smiling, but Stephan could sense tension in
the rigid set of his shoulders and the way his smile quickly turned from
genuine to strained.
worried about the ship being delayed?”
long bench beside a low dining table. He picked an orange from a fruit bowl and
began peeling it.
Seveihar,” he said, avoiding meeting Stephan’s eyes.
his long hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture. He knew he wasn’t going to
like it.
asked quietly.
this city. It seems the first thing your brother did after ascending to the
throne was declare war on Esnia.”
Robert, had been warmongering to garner political support, but until now,
Stephan had clung to the naïve hope he wouldn’t go as far as actually starting
a full-blown territorial war with their neighbor. Or at least that his advisers
would stop him from making such a foolish move, if he wasn’t prudent enough to
restrain himself. Even after fleeing his homeland and abandoning his title,
Stephan couldn’t help but feel somehow responsible for the wellbeing of its
people. Waging a war when most of them were already struggling with the
increase in waterway taxes his uncle Rowan had decreed last fall would only add
insult to injury.
though. There’s more.” Warren dropped the peelings on the table and frowned at
the naked fruit, as if surprised it turned out to be an orange after all.
“There’s talk about Seveiharians in Varta. Apparently, an envoy arrived at the
Governor’s palace two days ago. They were trying to keep it secret, but again,
Varta is anything but surreptitious.”
to amend trade agreements. War changes demand, and the usual shipping routes
would need to be altered if the Zenna River proves too dangerous now for
regular transport.”
orange slices, and Stephan popped them in his mouth. He flicked his tongue
across his lips to lick away the juice, noting the way Warren’s gaze took on a
familiar intensity as he followed the tiny movement.
jolt of heat down his belly, triggering his own arousal. He licked his lips
again, this time in an involuntary response to the thought of what he and
Warren could be doing to while away the sultry midday hours. But apparently
Warren wasn’t done yet.
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Meet the Author
A voracious reader from the age of five, Isabelle Adler has always dreamed of one day putting her own stories into writing. She loves traveling, art, and science, and finds inspiration in all of these. Her favorite genres include sci-fi, fantasy, and historical adventure. She also firmly believes in the unlimited powers of imagination and caffeine.
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