Novels2Search

4. Pledge

-Today, the human kingdom-

Twaintigre opened his eyes to a white canopy and quiet. He shifted and grabbed at his collar, overheated. This… isn’t home.

“You’re awake?” a gentle voice asked.

He turned his head. A beautiful blonde human sat at the side of his bed, dressed in a white and blue satin dress. A golden circlet rested atop her golden curls. She smiled gracefully, and he managed a weak smile in return. What a beautiful human. Though rough and a bit wide compared to an elf’s, her face still held a loveliness that the roughness only accentuated. It was a beauty unlike that of the elves, polished and perfect, but still worthy of compliment.

Maybe coming here wasn’t so bad, after all. A few weeks surrounded by beauties… it could be worse.

Their eyes met. Hers crinked, and her smile widened. “Filthy drow. Don’t get a big head because His Majesty gave you a gift.”

Lost, Twain frowned. He… what? When? His eyes widened. Oh right, the unicorn!

“Scurry on back to the shadows where you belong, little Mouse. His Majesty will be mine.”

Twain sat upright and wiped his forehead. His hand came back wet with sweat. Subtly, he dried his hand on the sheets and shoved them down at the same time, checking on his disguise with a glance. No one had loosened the dress’s corset or collar, so the padding at his chest and his forcibly bound waist, tied tight to give the illusion of hips, were still intact. “My name isn’t Mouse.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Is it not the nickname bestowed upon you by His Majesty? Are you so ungrateful as to refuse it?”

Twain sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. I’m not Twaintigre right now. I’m Moussaesa, representative of the moon elves. I cannot stand out. I must remain aloof. If the stupid humans want to call me Mouse, then I shall become Mouse.

He opened his eyes and forced a smile. “Indeed. And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

She chuckled. “How cowardly. Just like a little mouse.”

Do you want me to be a mouse or not? he grumbled inwardly.

“My name is Sabelyn, and I will be the wife of the Mage-Emperor. You would do well to keep that in mind.”

Mouse met Sabelyn’s eyes and smiled. “Excellent. Allow me to assist.”

“Quite so. You—” Her brows furrowed. “What?”

You think I want my sister to marry a bastard like this? One woman isn’t enough for him, hell, one race isn’t enough for him. He’s such a gourmet that he needs a woman from every race on the continent to satisfy his needs—who wants to give their sister’s hand to a lascivious man like that? You can have him. Hiding his thoughts behind a mask of deference, he nodded. “I pledge my full support to help you marry the Emperor.”

Sabelyn frowned, suspicious. “How can I trust you?”

Mouse swung his legs out of bed and climbed upright slowly. His head swam a bit, still not quite steady after the heat earlier, but he could stand. He shrugged. “Do you need to trust someone to use them?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Poisonous words from a poisonous race.”

Rich, coming from you. He adjusted the frills on his dress and used the moment to roll his eyes at her. “Where are the others?”

“Downstairs, in the grand ballroom. Shall I lead the way?” The picture of nobility and elegance once more, Sabelyn stood and swept out of the room.

Mouse shook his head and followed.