Free Prince Charming by Gaelen Foley

when he’d found her brutalized by some lover. He had satisfied her debts and healed her crushed pride, and for all his tender pains, what was her thanks?
    She seduced him, took his virginity, then robbed him while he slept. She had searched his desk, stealing secret government maps which he had been making for his father—maps she then sold to the French, who promptly used them to invade Ascencion.
    The House of the Fiori had nearly lost Ascencion to Napoleon, all because the heir apparent had failed to control his adolescent lust for an inappropriate woman.
    Not a man in government had taken him seriously since, not his father, not the people, and especially not the cabinet.
    “That whore merely beguiled you, took advantage of your youth—”
    “I don’t wish to discuss it, Father,” he said curtly, looking away. “It was my own fault. I trusted the wrong woman.”
    “And now you’ll trust none of them. Rafe, Rafe.” Lazar sighed. “You need an heir, Rafe.”
    “Why?” he demanded. “What’s the sudden rush?”
    “I’m ill,” his father said.
    “What?” he breathed, turning to him.
    Lazar stared at him, then slowly lowered his gaze. “That is why I am going to Spain to see Darius and Serafina and the children. I don’t know how much longer I will be strong enough to make the trip.”
    “What are you talking about?” he exclaimed. “You don’t look sick!”
    “Keep your voice down,” the king said, glancing down the hall. “No one knows about this except the head physician, Don Arturo, and now you. I want to keep it quiet for as long as I can.”
    Rafe gaped at him for a moment, incredulous. He struggled to find his voice. “Does Mother know?”
    “No. God, no,” he whispered, then visibly steeled himself. “I don’t want her to worry a moment longer than necessary.”
    “What’s the problem? Does the doctor know what it is?”
    He shrugged. “Some sort of stomach ailment. Possibly a cancer.”
    “Oh, my God,” said Rafe, stunned. Then anger filled him. “How can this be? You’ve never been sick a day in your life! Are they sure that’s what it is?”
    “Fairly sure. Rafe, what matters is putting our house in order. This is no time for you to walk out on me.”
    Rafe stared at him, his emotions in chaos. Now that he knew to look for them, he could see the signs of strain in his father’s face. Lazar’s weathered skin stretched tautly over his cheekbones and there were shadows under his eyes, as though he had been spending sleepless nights.
    He could not believe it. His father had always seemed to him as invulnerable and immortal as a god. “Are you in pain?”
    Lazar gave a rueful shrug. “I’m fine if I don’t eat.”
    He shook his head. “Father. Why the hell didn’t you just tell me this in the first place instead of backing me into a corner like that? I’m damned sorry I lost my temper—”
    “I didn’t want you to know. You’re going to have plenty else on your mind when you’re the one with the fate of half a million people on your shoulders.” He laid a firm hand on Rafe’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Perhaps my methods tonight were a little high-handed, Rafe, but I do want you to wed. Not merely for the sake of the kingdom and the family, but for your own well-being. I sowed some wild oats in my day, God knows, but I don’t like what I see happening to you.”
    Rafe said nothing.
    “You’re going to want someone who truly cares for you by your side when trouble comes—and it will. I’ll tell you honestly, I never could have lasted this long if it weren’t for your mother.”
    Rafe dropped his gaze from Lazar’s intense stare and looked blindly at the floor, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat. He feared he might weep like a child on the spot. Some king he would make.
    “Yes, sir,” he mumbled. Now that he understood the situation, he could not possibly refuse his father’s wish. He didn’t have the heart. Marry he would,