This is from Canes and Scales: The Novel. This ls part of the all new territory.
PG-13
Excerpt Canes & Scales M/M fantasy S.A. Garcia
LINDEN
We
stepped into the room. Heads turned toward us. The admiring glances cast my way
made me feel secure in my fashion choices. I inhaled a deep breath and began
greeting the swarm. I don’t know how the numerous nobles expected me to
remember their names. I hadn’t seen many of them in years. Summerlands nobles
enjoyed staying close to home. I impressed myself with how I spun their names
off my tongue.
I
maneuvered toward the buffet table. What a sumptuous display, varied in colors
and textures. Wait… no. Oh no. I choked on a sip of wine. I wanted to
strangle Keith. A miniature version of me in uniform, my arms raised to the sky
in triumph, fouled the table’s center. I never, ever wanted to see myself
crafted from rose petals, candied fruit, and other edible treats.
I
wanted to eat my head to spare the embarrassment.
“Cousin!”
Keith slapped my back. “The likeness is remarkable, eh? You look heroic yet
cranky.”
I
narrowed my eyelids in scolding. “I thought you liked me, Cuz.”
As he
huffed with mock insult, Keith held up his hands. “I do love you, Cousin. Be
fair, I did spring for top-grade peach-hued rose petals instead of merely using
a peeled potato for your royal head.”
“I
must admit using black licorice for my boots is hilarious.”
“A
lovely touch, eh?”
We
smacked each other’s shoulders as we laughed.
“You
have some nerve, slave!” An angry male voice cut through our laughter.
“No,
please!”
The
nobles surrounding me turned as one toward the disruption. They sensed
something to slake their thirst for drama.
“Please,
Baron, I am with the prince!”
Powers!
How had Alasdaire ended up parted from me? I thought he still hovered behind
me. The nobles must have cut him off from me.
Keith
gripped my arm. I shrugged him off, handing him my wineglass. I pushed my way
toward Alasdaire. He was trying to back away from a tall dark-haired noble. The
noble grabbed Alasdaire’s wrist.
“Baron,
please let me go!”
Alasdaire tried to yank away from the noble’s grip. I
focused on the hairy hand restraining Alasdaire’s left wrist. When he reached
up to grip Alasdaire’s chin, I almost succumbed to my rage. Instead, I inhaled
a deep breath.
I
reached his side. “Alasdaire, are you all right?”
He
radiated shame-tinged anxiety. I automatically put my arm around his shoulder.
A
tall, swarthy noble I did not recognize scowled before he realized who stood
before him. “My Prince!” He released Alasdaire and quickly bowed, red-faced and
nervous. “So good to see you again.”
I
flicked through names. Ah, Baron Otto from Mineia in the Western Summerlands
stood before me, “Baron. Is there a problem here?”
He
bowed again. “Not at all. I enjoyed this fair slave last summer. I merely
wanted to experience him again.”
“I am
sorry, but as he said, he is with me.”
“My
apologies, Prince Linden.”
The
Baron bowed and left the ballroom. What a wise man. My heart slowed down. If he
had remained near me, I feared I would punch the Baron until I felt better.
What a sure way to spoil the evening.
Low
murmuring rippled through the watching nobles. I suspect I had disappointed
them by not providing a more violent display of temper.
Alasdaire
stood staring at the floor, trembling with self-control. I thought he was
willing himself to vanish beneath the floorboards. My lingering rage quickly
turned into concern. I released his shoulder to touch his cheek canes.
“Alasdaire?”
He
stared up at me. His slightly wild expression worried me. “My Prince, let me
return to the suite.” His harsh whisper caught in his throat. “Forgive me. I
can’t remain down here. They stare at me like hungry dogs.”
At
least he kept his voice low. I massaged his upper arms. “Of course. I will come
with you.”
The
wildness faded from his stare. He blinked with surprise. “Truly?”
I
raised my hand. “Truly.” I gently gripped his elbow and guided him toward the
side door. All eyes watched us.
I
turned to wave. “Farewell, everyone. I fear I must retire for the evening.
Keith, please send up treats and wine to us.”
As we
walked along the long upper corridor, I glanced down to smile at Alasdaire. His
reverent expression made me feel like a true prince riding up on a white
charger to save the day. I enjoyed the emotion.
Too
bad I had never eaten my rose-petal head.
Once we escaped to my suite, my guards admitted
servers. To my delight, one large silver tray supported my edible body. Dear
Keith knew how much I wanted to destroy the thing.
Alasdaire
and I laughed until we almost cried. The servers stared at us with great
confusion. After they departed, Alasdaire examined my fruit-and-petal faux
body. “They performed an excellent job making you appear heroic.” He tickled
his finger against the figure’s crotch. “Mmm, I want to eat this part. I know
the real thing tastes wonderful.” He fluttered his lashes in sultry tease.
Seeing
him act playful relieved me. To celebrate, I reached over and plucked off my
head. Alasdaire gasped before he laughed along with me. I bit into my hair,
revealing a fluffy cream filling. The pastry chef had turned me into a cream
puff. I laughed harder.
Alasdaire
dipped his finger into the neck. “How suitable—heroic on the outside, sweet on
the inside.”
“Watch
out, the chef might have laced the cream with Uurkian pepper sauce. That’s more
accurate to my personality.”
“Nonsense.”
He seduced me by licking more cream from his finger.
I
popped the remainder of my head into my mouth. A mix of sweetness, floral
accents, and mint met my tongue. I tasted lovely. “Let’s save dessert for
last.”
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