Royally Screwed - Lynn Van Dorn Page 0,2

a demon, hopping onto the bed with his fists inexpertly pummeling anything they came in contact with, from Angelo to the pillow and mattress. “Take it back,” he sobbed, seeming wild with emotion. Angelo wished the grownups could see this Yuri. He only lost control in front of Angelo. Around anyone else, he was disgustingly well-behaved. “You fucking take it back.”

The nuclear bomb of bad words sat between them uneasily, making both of them freeze in place. Not even Angelo went around saying fuck. While Angelo was too young to put a name to the emotion that swirled within him, he would one day think back on this memory and realize he felt both shocked and scandalized down to his bones.

Prince Perfect wasn't supposed to curse. Not ever. That was against The Rules. And while it was acceptable for Angelo to ignore The Rules, it was not all right for Prince Perfect. Angelo felt his whole world slide off-kilter, like that crooked as hell portrait of Yuri's great aunt Cecilia that was hung in the Mirean portrait gallery.

Angelo, who easily outweighed Yuri by at least ten pounds, pinned the smaller boy to the mattress. “What did you just say?”

“N-nothing.”

“That's not what I heard. You said the F-word. Someone should spank you, brat.”

A look passed over Yuri’s face that Angelo didn’t understand. Scared and something else. It was like when they watched a scary movie. Yuri would hide behind a pillow half the time, the big baby, but he wouldn’t stop watching the movie, and when it was over, he’d be excited as hell and want to watch another. It didn’t make any sense to Angelo, but that was Yuri for you.

“Not you,” Yuri spat back, color high in his cheeks.

“Someone should,” Angelo growled, and his hand itched to teach Yuri a lesson. “But if you keep your mouth shut about me, I'll keep my mouth shut about you, and no one gets punished. Deal?”

Reluctantly, Yuri nodded, so Angelo rolled off him. “Great. Then get out of my room and don't come back! No one put you in charge of me!”

Yuri stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Not even a minute later, his door opened again, admitting a very angry Philippe with a struggling Yuri in tow.

“Boys! This is quite enough. Sound carries in a castle, for your information. Now. Is this how we behave? I am ashamed of you.”

Angelo stuck out his lower lip, not that he was pouting. Pouting was what Yuri did. Besides, pouting did no good with the valet. Philippe had been with Yuri practically since birth, and Angelo felt a little bit sorry for the valet, although at the moment he wasn’t feeling particularly happy with Philippe, either.

“Yuri started it,” he said sullenly.

“Well, you’re both going to finish it. Come here, your highness. I want the two of you to apologize and shake hands.”

Angelo made a face but obeyed. It was hard not to obey him.

Years ago, Philippe had come to Tanzhir with Angelo’s mother as part of her court when she’d married Angelo’s father, Aryan, the king of Tanzhir. Years later, Queen Gabriella gifted the infant Yuri with one of her most trusted and loyal servants: Philippe. He’d been more footman than valet, but he had years to grow into his new position as his prince aged.

Because he'd known both boys since birth, not only did Philippe feel it was his duty to rein in Yuri, but he also thought he had the right to boss Angelo around, and that wasn’t fair. The thing was, though, that if Angelo complained about Philippe to his mother, she would side with the servant. She’d known Philippe her entire life, and to Angelo, more than three decades seemed to be an unimaginably long time.

“Fine.” Angelo got out of bed and stalked over to Philippe and Yuri. He stared at Yuri, willing him to go first. Yuri glared back.

“Angelo, you’re the eldest here. You start.”

He transferred his stare to Philippe. “By only fifteen days!” he protested.

Philippe frowned at Angelo, who sighed, defeated, and held his hand out to Yuri. “I’m sorry I called you a cry baby.” Even though he wasn’t.

Yuri looked briefly mutinous, then took Angelo’s hand. “I’m sorry I called you a dickweed. That was not at all nice of me and I hope you’ll forgive me. I’ll be so sad if you don’t.” Then the little jack hole put on his most innocent expression. “I mean, since we’re going to be together. Forever.