Title: The Prince's Consort
Series: Chronicles of Tournai, Book One
Author: Antonia Aquilante
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: March 16, 2020
Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 103300
Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, Romance, fantasy, paranormal, family-drama, gay, intersex, prince, arranged marriage, court intrigue, cat shifter, mpreg
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Synopsis
Legends tell of large cats defending the
principality of Tournai, but such creatures are only myth.
Or are they?
Prince Philip inherited the throne of
Tournai at a young age, and since then, his life has centered around ruling his
country and resisting those pressuring him to do as they want both in matters
of governance and those more personal. He’s become isolated and lonely. Amory
is the second son of a wealthy merchant who has never approved of anything
about him or had any use for him. Until now.
When kind-hearted Amory is offered to
the prince in exchange for more time for Amory’s merchant father to complete a
commission, both Philip and Amory are horrified. But Philip agrees to keep
Amory at the palace, where they gradually become friends, then lovers. For the
first time in his life, Philip is free to share not only his heart, but the
magical shape-shifting ability that runs in the royal bloodline—something the
royal family has kept secret from all but those closest to them for
generations.
Neither Amory nor Philip imagined
falling in love, and they certainly don’t expect what those who oppose their
relationship will do to keep them apart—maybe even resorting to murder.
Excerpt
The Prince’s Consort
Antonia Aquilante © 2020
All Rights Reserved
Amory giggled as he and Tristan
practically fell through the garden gate. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but
Tristan must not have heard. If he had, he would have teased without mercy, as
was his right as Amory’s closest friend. But Tristan tugged him along, barely
giving him a chance to latch the gate behind them so the lock spell would
reengage.
All morning, Tristan had been in high
spirits—unusual as he was usually the more focused one in classes. But when
Amory asked him what was going on, Tristan only shrugged. Maybe it was the
weather. All of Jumelle seemed livelier since the warmth of spring had burst
over the city.
He let Tristan pull him down the stone
path to a secluded corner of the garden shaded by large trees. The walled
garden was blooming, giving them plenty of dense foliage to duck behind. With a
wicked grin, Tristan turned and pushed him back against a sturdy tree. Before
Amory could say a word, Tristan sealed his mouth over Amory’s in a
breath-stealing kiss.
The kiss wasn’t a surprise, not then.
They had been kissing a lot over the past year or so. The first time had been a
surprise, even for Tristan who’d seemed shocked at his own actions. Amory never
thought his friend would want to kiss him. He hadn’t thought Tristan saw him in
such a way, was attracted to men at all. Their first kiss had been tentative
and awkward. They’d gotten better at it quickly.
Much better.
He moaned into the kiss and pulled
Tristan closer, urging him to settle his weight against Amory and relishing the
feel of Tristan’s firm body against his even as it pushed him into rough tree
bark. But who cared about tree bark when Tristan was kissing him as if he
wanted to consume him? Deep and passionate, with tongues tangling and teeth
nipping. Yes, they had definitely gotten better with all the practice.
“Tris,” he gasped when Tristan pulled
back. He wasn’t done with the kiss. But Tristan said nothing, just began
kissing along the line of Amory’s jaw. The light little kisses made him shiver
and stifle another moan. Though they were in a back corner, away from the
house, they were still in his family’s garden, and he didn’t want anyone
finding them. They should go somewhere else. A nip to his earlobe made him
shudder, and a nuzzling kiss under his ear drove the thought right out of his
head.
He grabbed the back of Tristan’s neck
and pulled his lips back to Amory’s own for another kiss. Tristan’s slightly
larger frame still pressed him into the tree, but Amory took control of the
kiss, deepening it and exploring Tristan’s mouth with his tongue. He nearly
laughed when Tristan whimpered, loving his ability to provoke such a reaction
in the other man. Tristan pulled back with a gasp, and they leaned there
together, panting.
“I love kissing you,” Tristan gasped.
Relief exploded in Amory’s chest.
Tristan hadn’t said he loved Amory. Tristan was his best friend, but even with
all the kissing, Amory wasn’t in love with him. “Me too.”
Tristan grinned and dropped a quick kiss
on Amory’s lips. “I want to do more.”
“M-more?” His cheeks heated at the
stutter.
Tristan grinned and kissed him again.
“Yep. More.”
Amory’s nerves didn’t abate at the
confirmation, though he wasn’t sure where they came from. In all the time since
that first awkward moment, they hadn’t done anything but kiss. Oh, they touched
a little, but never on bare skin and never below the waist. They’d never
discussed the concept of “more” before.
The idea did intrigue him. It wasn’t as
if he hadn’t thought about what it would be like—he had. But imagining it and
doing it were two separate things, and the idea of doing more with Tristan made
him vaguely uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure why. They were best friends, and
they’d come this far. There was no reason not to go a little farther.
Tristan watched him, his blue eyes
intense and a little quizzical. How long had Amory stood there, not saying
anything? He smiled past his nerves. “Like what?”
Tristan grinned, slow and wicked, and
reached out to unfasten Amory’s pants without a word. Before Amory could
protest, before he could decide whether he wanted to protest, Tristan had his
hand inside Amory’s pants. He gripped him and began a tight, slow stroke. The
feel of another man’s hand on him for the first time stole Amory’s breath, and
when he got it back, all he could do was moan.
Tristan’s grin widened at the sound, and
his hand sped up, working Amory faster. After a few moments standing there,
struggling to breathe, Amory realized he wasn’t doing anything for Tristan. He
scrambled to unfasten Tristan’s pants with fumbling fingers as Tristan
whispered encouragement. Finally, Amory wrapped his hand around Tristan’s hard
member and began to stroke him in time with Tristan’s strokes. It felt awkward
at first, different from touching himself yet not so different, but Tristan
didn’t voice any objections.
“Yes, yes, yes. Amory,” Tristan gasped
into Amory’s ear.
It didn’t last long. Amory might have
been embarrassed at how quickly he found his release if Tristan didn’t finish
just as fast, spilling over Amory’s hand, and collapsing against him. He was
glad of the tree at his back, rough bark and all, because his wobbly knees
didn’t have a chance of holding both of them up.
He didn’t know what to think about what
they’d done. He’d enjoyed it, but the uncomfortable feeling still plagued him.
Before he could begin to analyze it, Tristan was chuckling, low at first, quiet
in Amory’s ear, his body shaking against Amory’s chest. Tristan pulled back
enough to look at him. His eyes sparkled with happiness, and Amory’s laughter
bubbled up to join his friend’s.
The laughter eased the way as they
fumbled for handkerchiefs, cleaned themselves up, and neatened their clothes
again. Then they leaned against each other and the tree, still laughing a
little. It was Amory who moved for another kiss. Both of them were grinning
when their lips met, and they couldn’t seem to stop laughing as they kissed, as
they kept kissing. But the laughter was soft and light, like the kisses, and
Amory relaxed into them, wrapping his arms around Tristan. Telling himself he
would think about everything later.
“Good afternoon, brother.”
The unexpected voice and its snide tone
had Amory jerking away from the kiss. The back of his head thunked into the
tree trunk behind him. Tristan jumped back, separating them much more
effectively. Amory almost wished he hadn’t. The short distance between them seemed
like a vast gulf, and Amory felt very alone as he straightened away from the
tree and turned to face his older brother.
Alban’s handsome face was twisted in a
sneer even more disgusted than the one he habitually wore when looking at
Amory. He studied Amory and Tristan in silence while Amory struggled not to
squirm. No use saying anything to Alban, he knew from bitter experience.
“Now I know why you wanted no part of
that pretty little maid last week.” Disdain dripped from Alban’s every word.
“You’re more of a disappointment than I thought. Worthless. How are you even my
brother?”
With a shake of his head, Alban turned
and strode away, likely heading directly for the house. Amory remained frozen
for a long moment, not even blinking.
“He’s going to tell your father.”
Tristan’s voice was flat, so different from its usual exuberant, almost musical
quality. The shock of it broke Amory’s paralysis, and Amory turned to face him.
Tristan still stared at the spot where Alban had stood.
“Yes, he is.” Amory ran a shaking hand
through his hair and slumped back against the tree. Alban hadn’t hit him, which
was a pleasant surprise, but the consequences were still going to be bad. How
would Father react? With disappointment, certainly, but that was nothing new.
Most likely with anger as well. However disgusted Alban was, their father would
be ten times more so.
“Do you think they’ll tell my father?”
Tristan turned fear-filled blue eyes on Amory.
“Tris.” Amory reached out. He couldn’t
bear seeing him so afraid, and though he couldn’t say much to reassure him, he
couldn’t stand by while Tristan was upset either.
But he stepped out of Amory’s reach. “Do
you?”
Amory tried to hold back a flinch. “I
don’t know.”
Tristan groaned and scrubbed his hands over
his face. “He can’t. I don’t know what my father will do if he finds out I
prefer men. I’m his oldest son. I’m supposed to take over for him in the
business, get married. Have sons to take over the family business after me.”
“You still can. All right, the children
part would be difficult if you don’t marry someone who can carry them, but you
can still take over the family business.” He didn’t bother mentioning that
Tristan had four younger brothers and a younger sister. Surely at least one of
them would have children someday who could inherit the family’s business if
Tristan never had any of his own and his father insisted on an heir of their
blood. But Tristan took his responsibilities as first son seriously. Too
seriously. He wouldn’t want to hear that at the moment.
“Not if he disowns me.”
“Now you’re being dramatic. Preferring
men is not illegal. It’s not wrong. Your father loves you. He’s proud of you,
and you’ll be the same son he’s proud of after he finds out.”
“You don’t know that, Amory.”
No, he didn’t. But Tristan had a better
chance of everything working out fine than Amory did. Tristan’s father was
proud of his accomplishments, which was more than Amory could say.
“I may not, but I believe it will be all
right. Don’t borrow trouble. My father and brother might be too busy killing me
to remember to tell your father.”
Tristan huffed out a half laugh and
whacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t joke about that.”
“Who’s joking?” Amory smiled crookedly.
“Seriously, though, I do think everything will be all right with your father.”
He took Tristan’s hand and squeezed and then let go before Tristan could pull
away.
“Maybe. I need to go.”
“All right. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you.” Tristan slipped out of their
little corner of the garden and was gone before Amory could get another word
out. He tried not to think about how unsure Tristan’s parting words sounded. He
didn’t want to lose Tristan. Not when he would likely need his friend more than
ever.
He didn’t think Father would kill him,
but he couldn’t rule out Father hitting him. It was partly why he was so
surprised Alban hadn’t—his older brother was a perfect replica of their father
in every way. But even without actual murder, Father could make Amory’s life
miserable, and Amory wouldn’t be able to do anything until he came of age next
week. A week seemed like a short time but was long enough for his father to…
He needed to think about his options.
Father would never accept his preferences. Once his father knew, Amory’s time
in his family’s house was limited. He hated to leave his younger siblings,
especially Adeline, but he doubted he would have much of a choice. It might be
best to leave before he was thrown out.
Sighing, he pushed himself away from the
tree and started for the house. He hoped he could avoid Father long enough to
spend a little time with Adeline and make some plans. And to get his hands to
stop shaking.
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Meet the Author
Antonia Aquilante has been making up
stories for as long as she can remember, and at the age of twelve, decided she
would be a writer when she grew up. After many years and a few career detours,
she has returned to that original plan. Her stories have changed over the
years, but one thing has remained consistent—they all end in happily ever
after.
She has a fondness for travel (and a
long list of places she wants to visit and revisit), taking photos, family
history, fabulous shoes, baking treats (which she shares with friends and family),
and of course, reading. She usually has at least two books started at once and
never goes anywhere without her Kindle. Though she is a convert to e-books, she
still loves paper books the best, and there are a couple thousand of them
residing in her home with her.
Born and raised in New Jersey, Antonia
is living there again after years in Washington, DC and North Carolina for
school and work. She enjoys being back in the Garden State but admits to being
tempted every so often to run away from home and live in Italy.
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