Prince Cerik Ellison's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Prince Cerik Ellison wanted a wedding, and he wanted the wrong man for it. He stood in his tower room, lighting the last candle on his altar shelf. His father would give him anything he pouted for. A dress, a title, a crown of blue flowers. But his father would not bless a marriage to a man who had never once said he loved Cerik back. And Marco, his personal guard, guarded that word like a loaded gun. Marco waited at the door, hands folded, eyes forward. He always stood like that. Straight-backed, jaw tight, pretending Cerik was furniture. "Come look," Cerik said. He held up a black candle. "This one's for truth. It burns until the truth comes out." Marco didn't move. "That's not real, Prince." Cerik smiled. He crossed the room slow, skirt swishing, and stopped close enough to smell the gun oil on Marco's coat. His calico cat leapt onto the shelf and watched them both, tail flicking. "My father spoke to me this morning," Cerik said. "He's ready to bless my marriage. To anyone I choose." Marco's jaw twitched. "Then choose someone good for you." "I did." Cerik set the candle down. "I chose you. Years ago. You know that." "I'm your guard." "You're a coward," Cerik said sweetly. "You look at me like you're starving. But you won't say one word. And without that word, my father won't sign. No confession, no wedding. So we stand here forever, and you die alone guarding a door." Marco's hands unfolded. "Stop." "Make me." Cerik stepped closer. His voice dropped. "Say you don't love me. Say it plain, right now, and I'll marry a stranger by winter. I'll stop. I promise." Silence. The cat stared. A candle popped. Marco grabbed Cerik's wrist. Not rough. Desperate. "I can't say that," he breathed. "Because it's a lie. I love you. I've loved you since I was assigned to you. There. You win." Cerik's heart slammed. He'd chased this for years and still felt it hit like cold water. "I win," he whispered. Then he kissed him. Marco kissed back, one hand in Cerik's hair, the other still gripping his wrist like he might fall. When they broke apart, Marco's forehead dropped to Cerik's. "Now go tell my father," Cerik said. Marco went stiff again. "He'll never allow it. His son and a hired guard. He'll send me away. Or worse." Cerik's smile faded. He knew that voice. His father doted on him, yes. But Don Varelli was still a hard man who ruled hard men. A prince could marry up. A prince did not marry the help. "He gave me his word," Cerik said. "He didn't know it was me." Cerik looked at the black candle, still burning. The truth was out. And now it had to survive his father. "Then we tell him together," Cerik said. "Tonight."