Evil Twin by Kati Wilde

1

Bane

On her deathbed,Bane’s mother had made him swear an oath never to kill his twin. But if the good queen had lived to see the waste of air that Tamas had become, she’d have probably let Bane rescind his vow. She might have even put the assassin’s dagger into his hand and bade him to do the job well.

Alas, it was not to be.

Bane had been but five years old when he made that vow. Over the twenty-five years that followed, each morning Bane awoke and hoped this would be the day that his twin would die.

But that was also not to be. At fifteen, a fall from his horse during a hunt broke Tamas’s arm, not his neck. Though blue fever and the wheezing cough swept through the palace, his brother survived every plague. None of his mistresses ever stabbed him, or smothered him with a pillow, or gave to him a lethal pox. He’d not even the courtesy to choke to death on a grape, as their royal father had when they were twenty years of age—and although grapes were banned from the king’s table from that day forward, enough wine flowed into Tamas’s cup that he ought to have at least tumbled down a stairwell or fallen out a tower window. Yet he never did. And so each night, Bane went to bed disappointed.

But he would not this night.

This night, Bane would claim a throne. But he would keep his vow, and he wouldn’t take his brother’s crown.

Instead he’d take his brother’s bride.

* * *

A mere fourminutes had determined the early course of Bane’s life—four minutes that had seen him arrive second-born from his mother’s womb and denied him a kingdom.

A mere four seconds determined the rest of his life, for that was all the time Bane needed to devise his plan. Those four seconds took place at supper, in the lull between the soup course and the fish, and immediately after Queen Aveline of Phaira said to him, “Mere words could never express how thankful we are to your brother for sending Gocea’s warriors to defend our people against the undying scourge. I trust that giving to him our brightest jewel will come nearer to conveying the depth of our gratitude, even as it unites our kingdoms.”

Their brightest jewel?Bane’s gaze followed the queen’s across the table. Sitting at Tamas’s right hand was a young woman with luminous brown skin. Diamond hairpins secured black curls in an elaborate style. A white silk gown clung to ample curves.

Their daughter, Sapphira. The heir to the Phairan throne.

Resentment spewed through Bane’s blood, hot and bitter. When he’d been summoned away from his warriors’ training camp to attend this royal banquet, he’d assumed the only purpose was to celebrate the victory over the scourge. But they also clearly meant to wed Sapphira to Tamas…and in time, his brother would rule over two kingdoms.

Because of gratitude.

Yet it hadn’t been Tamas who’d sent Gocea’s army to Phaira. No, his twin brother had petulantly refused to help their neighbors. No matter how Bane had argued with him—because every Phairan that was transformed into an undying beast would only strengthen the scourge’s numbers and multiply the threat against Gocea—his brother hadn’t relented, whining that his kingdom would be undefended if he sent his army outside Gocea’s borders.

Bane had led the warriors into Phaira, anyway. He had crushed the scourge. He had saved that kingdom.

Yet the Phairan king and queen were giving their daughter to his spineless shit of a brother. And by doing so, they were giving Tamas that kingdom, too.

So Bane would leave them no choice but to give the princess to him, instead.

It would be easy enough. Fuck her. Plant his seed. Tamas wouldn’t want her if Bane had her first—and his twin wouldn’t risk claiming a child that might not be his. Not even for a kingdom. But then, his brother was a vain, worthless parasite.

In that respect, Tamas and Sapphira seemed well matched.

Bane watched her now, sizing her up as he would a fortress that he wanted to breach. His first thought upon meeting the princess was that she appeared pretty and lively but also pampered and insipid. Nothing he saw at dinner overturned that impression.

Likely all the rough edges of life had been softened for her—just has they’d been for Tamas. Their father had seen to that. No unpleasantness ever touched his heir. Why should it, when Bane was there to deal with any difficulties, instead? Should not a future king be protected from strife and grief and pain? What more important purpose did Bane have but to ease his twin’s way?

So Tamas knew nothing of suffering. When plagues had swept the palace, courtiers and servants were made to wear happy smiles so as not to disturb Tamas, no matter how they grieved those lost—and so sickness was not so very bad. When a blight destroyed the fields and the kingdom starved, feasts still appeared on Tamas’s table—and so hunger was not so very bad. The worst pain Tamas had ever known was his broken arm, his healing aided by palace physicians and numbing potions—and so any injury caused by neglected roads or by misfortune was not so very bad…and there was no need to spend his gold on repairs or assistance.

And from Sapphira’s own lips—in agreement with her mother and father—Bane heard that the undying scourge’s invasion into their southern Phairan villages was not so very bad. Because the Gocean army had stopped them so quickly.

But they hadn’t been fast enough. And unlike that king and queen and princess, Bane had seen the shredded bodies, those lucky dead who were spared the horror of a transformation into the beasts that slaughtered their own families. He could still smell the blood until his lungs seemed to drown in it. He could still hear the villagers’ screams—and some nights bolted upright with his own screams locked between his teeth as the scourge’s venom pulsed agony through his veins and turned his rage into claws and fangs.

They couldn’t even conceive the suffering that Bane had saved them from.

So he would take that kingdom as his due. He’d take his brother’s bride, claim Phaira’s crown, and lock the royal family into a palatial chamber where they could be pampered for the rest of their pointless lives.

And Bane would feel no remorse at all.

Because surely, what he planned was not so very bad.

* * *

At its heart,the plan was simple. The Phairan royal visit would last near to a full month—time enough for treaties and settlements to be argued, agreed upon, and written before the visit culminated in a wedding. In that time, Tamas and Sapphira would likely meet often, but always in company of her parents and other officials. Never would they have a moment alone.

Bane would create that time alone. Finding the opportunity would pose no issue. Servant gossip told him that the princess preferred retiring to her bedchambers early, whereas Tamas always enjoyed revelries late into the night.

So Bane would shave his beard and cut his hair to match his brother’s, don court robes instead of a general’s armor, and visit her chambers. There he’d claim that he wanted to spend time with the princess, to learn more about her without the eyes of the kingdom upon them. He’d flatter and praise her.

Then he’d seduce her—and make certain that her parents and his brother found him in her bed with his seed still wet between her thighs.

Simple…except for the sheer number of personal guards that secured the Phairans’ guest chambers. Far more guards than a visiting family usually brought—but they likely protected more than the royals themselves. At the dinner, the king, queen, and princess had sparkled with enough gold and jewels to outshine the sun.

So, more guards than Bane expected. But he appreciated a challenge.

Except there wasn’t one.

The princess made it so easy for him. He emerged from his personal quarters, absently rubbing the now-bare skin of his jaw, and there she was—about fifty paces away, standing in the wide gallery that served as a corridor leading to the royal chambers, examining a painting on the wall.

Evenly spaced torches lit the corridor, throwing out splashes of firelight. Bane stepped into the shadows between to watch her unseen.

She carried a candle to light her way through the darkened palace, and now she held it up to better see the oversized portrait. One of his brother’s. Painted larger than life, Tamas was posed as a conquering hero astride a mighty charger and with sword triumphantly raised—though his brother had never conquered anything. But the portrait was accurate, in its own way. Anyone with brains to see exactly who his brother was only had to look at the vanity on display.

Bane had not thought the princess had brains enough to see. In truth, remembering her vapid gaze, he’d wondered if his cock would harden enough to carry out his plan.

Yet she seemed not so vapid now. Though the candle illuminated her features, she stood too distant for him to see her expression. But something in her posture, the tilt of her head, and the lift of her chin spoke of focus and determination, and the heavy thickening of his shaft answered his wonderings.

As did her confident stride and the sultry sway of her hips when she continued along the gallery. Anticipation tugged at his loins with her every step. From the shadows, he watched her approach the corridor leading to the king’s quarters. Two guards flanked the mouth of that corridor.

She spoke not a word, but her regal bearing and an imperiously arched eyebrow dared them to deny her entrance.

The guards darted a glance at Bane. In the years after the old king’s death, Bane had carefully replaced the palace guard with warriors loyal to himself, so that Tamas’s every movement was reported to him. Now they looked to Bane for guidance.

At Bane’s nod, they let her through.

Bane emerged from the shadows and joined the guards. Quietly he asked, “How many this night?”

“Three,” a guard murmured.

Farther down the corridor, the princess swept into the king’s chambers and closed the door behind her. Bane waited.

The chamber door was flung open. Three women scampered out, clutching scraps of lace and silk to their nude forms. They hesitated upon seeing Bane.

He waved them onward, then caught the guard eyeing him sidelong.

The man had likely never seen Bane without his beard. “Would you mistake me for Tamas?”

“If I didn’t know his majesty well,” the guard answered.

The princess didn’t. “Wait one hour,” Bane told him. “Then see that my brother and her parents have reason to visit the royal bedchamber.”

“It will be done, General Bane.”

Then he’d best do his own part. One hour wasn’t much time to complete a seduction. But he doubted the princess had come to the king’s quarters—in her nightgown—merely to have a conversation.

Though perhaps she’d come to see what she’d need to redecorate after her marriage. Tamas’s personal chambers were an ornate, gilded eyesore. What wasn’t gold was covered in white velvet that was so difficult to clean that Bane had once heard the chambermaids make a curse of his brother’s name.

The air smelled faintly of smoke, the familiar odor of candles recently snuffed. The princess must have wanted the room darkened.

The shadows suited his purpose, too. The dimmer the light, the less likely she would realize who he truly was. For although he and Tamas shared a face, Bane had known agony that had carved out hollows beneath his cheekbones and sharpened every edge. Battle had left him scarred and callused; his skin had been blasted by scorching sun and icy winds. In full light, no one would mistake him for his pampered twin.

But in the near dark, the princess would not likely see the difference.

Despite the shadows, Bane had no trouble finding her. In the king’s parlor, she waited in front of the fireplace, her hands demurely clasped at her waist.

“Forgive my intrusion, Your Majesty.” Her voice was as breathy and girlish as he remembered from dinner, her eyes as wide and her expression as insipid. His cock deflated as she shyly looked down at her hands. “I hoped that we might come to know each other better without my parents monitoring our every word.”

So she had come for conversation. But if everything had gone to his original plan, Bane would have said the same to the princess in her chambers. Only the location had changed.

“It is no intrusion, Princess.” Tamas would have greeted her with an easy smile. Bane tried the same but was glad her eyes were downcast, because his smile likely resembled a grimace. “I had the same wish.”

“Then I have saved you a journey to the guest wing.” Her lips curved slightly. “Though I do wonder at your security. It seems any woman at all might wander into these chambers.”

She quickly glanced up at him through her lashes, and Bane’s heart stuttered in his chest. That look hadn’t been insipid. Instead it was sharp and amused, a blade made of silent laughter.

Laughing at him. Or at Tamas…who would lie and reassure her. In truth, his brother would never give up his mistresses. “That will change when we are married.”

“I hope it will change sooner than that.”

“So it will,” he agreed. “It will change this night.”

Everythingwould change this night.

His answer seemed to please her. Though she demurely lowered her gaze again, he caught a hint of satisfaction and another faint curve of her mouth.

Before that curve could become a smile, her white teeth briefly trapped her full bottom lip. “They were…beautiful.”

“Who?” His brain seemed sluggish, still caught on that sharp, silent laugh. Trying to make sense of it. He’d watched her at dinner, and nothing he’d observed had suggested the fire and intelligence he’d seen in that quick glimpse.

Bane was good at sizing people up. Rarely, rarely did he take the wrong measure. But he had with her.

Was it a mask she wore? Or had he just imagined that sharp, amused glance?

For he could only see demure vapidity she whispered, “The women waiting for you.”

“What about them?”

“They were beautiful.”

“Were they?”

“They were.” She gave him a hesitant glance through her lashes. “I fear I cannot compare.”

“You do.” Though at dinner, he hadn’t thought so. He’d thought her merely pretty. Yet now Bane couldn’t take his gaze from her. Perhaps because her hair was down, thick black curls spilling down her back. Or perhaps it was the simplicity of her nightgown, and the way it teased and hinted at the shape of her body.

Yet he was not looking at her hair or her gown. Not when he couldn’t tear his gaze from her eyes.

She glanced at his face again. So quickly. Hesitantly, he’d thought before.

But that look was calculating. Cunning.

As if the princess was judging his response so that she could decide how to move forward.

Something twisted in his chest, a strange ache that resembled the warning burn of the venom that coursed through his veins. Yet it wasn’t pain. It wasn’t agony.

It was want. It was longing. For whatever he’d glimpsed behind that mask.

Never had Bane given much thought to the kind of woman he desired to be his. He’d never given much thought to women at all, unless they were warriors serving in the Gocean army. But now he knew.

He wanted fire. He wanted cunning. He wanted someone who could slice him open with a look and expose what he hadn’t even known was inside him.

Biting her lip again, she glanced away, a picture of timid innocence.

“Don’t do that,” he said gruffly.

Her gaze shot back to his, eyes widening in guileless surprise, asking breathlessly, “Have I displeased you, Your Majesty?”

“Don’t pretend to be shy. You’re not.”

She stilled, watching him. Calculating again.

The longing in his chest began to pulse through his blood. Pushing him toward her. Drawing him toward her. Helplessly, he went—and his need for her rose when she didn’t back away, but remained motionless as he slowly circled around behind her.

Voice low, he asked, “You came to these chambers seeking something—and do not tell me that you wish to know me better.”

“But I do.”

Without even seeing her eyes, he knew they would be sparking with amusement again. Unable to resist, he dipped his head lower, inhaling the lavender scent of her hair, growling softly into her ear, “What do you want from me, Princess?”

And her reply was as quiet as his, and not a bit girly or breathy. “Do you truly hope to unite our kingdoms?”

“I do.” If his brother would kindly die. Otherwise Bane would settle for her kingdom and unite Phaira and Gocea by a family bond of blood…even if he hated the brother tied to him. “Do you?”

“Very much. Especially if we can persuade my parents to give up their power early. If our kingdoms are truly united, if we intend to make one kingdom of Phaira and Gocea…that one kingdom cannot be ruled by two kings and two queens.”

Ah, and there it was. Something else hidden behind the mask. Ambition.

Yet why conceal it? Perhaps to keep her parents from realizing that she would conspire against them as she was now.

Bane continued his circle, stopping when he faced her. Her head tilted back to steadily meet his gaze. “Would your king and queen give up their power early?”

“No.”

Then Bane would see that they did after his marriage to this princess. King Robard and Queen Aveline would find themselves locked in that palatial chamber he’d planned for them.

But Bane no longer thought that he would lock away the princess there, too.

She drew a deep breath. “And so I worry…”

“Of what?” He would take her worries away.

“I worry that during these bridal negotiations, my parents might realize how much power they would relinquish and withdraw the offer of my hand.”

Soon they would have little choice but to give her to him. Yet he wondered what she intended by coming here. “Then what do you propose?”

A sly smile graced her lips. Her fingers rose to the ribbon at the closure of her nightgown and pulled. Silk slithered over bare skin to puddle around her dainty feet.

Her gaze boldly met his. “I propose, Your Majesty, that we come to know each other much better.”