{×4 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝}
Book 1 of the Run series.
Get ready for a thrilling world as we probe the life of Asher, a young prince who is undergoing a series of rigorous princely lessons to prepare for his future as King, and Tristan, the son of the most...
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"No! Please, don't hurt him," Asher went on his knees, his pleading hands quivered.
"The last time I spared him for a couple of days he escaped, and got intimate with you," Owen turned away from his son. "Guards!"
Asher's eyeballs roamed around. What should I do? Think, think!
His eyes landed on Tristan's dagger on the floor. He grabbed it and held the blade to his neck.
"Stop!" the queen commanded, the guards halted. She looked at Asher with a smile. "Sweetie, put that down."
Asher shook his head. "Let him go first."
The king Scowled. "He's bluffing, kill the thief."
Asher pulled the knife on his skin, his neck stung, blood dripped on his collar and onto his shirt.
"My king! Please, stop!" Alice yelled, sobbing into her hands for she couldn't bear the gruelling scene.
Tristan looked at him. "Asher, drop the dagger."
"But they'll hurt you," his eyes glistened as he sniffed.
"It's okay, I'll be fine," Tristan gave him a reassuring smile.
"I-I'm so sorry, it's my fault," Asher whispered and cried harder.
"Don't make your mom worry, put it down, I'll be fine."
Asher hesitated for a while then released his grip, the dagger clinked as it fell to the ground.
The queen hyperventilated and ran to him. "Asher, mommy's coming," she held her son close to her chest.
"Call his doctor!" she told a maid, the woman bowed and hastened to find him.
Queen Alice smiled at Asher in her arms. "It's going to be alright, mommy's here."
"Don't kill him, please," Asher said.
Queen Alice turned to her husband with a knowing look, the king exhaled. "Take him to the dungeon."
Asher's security was tripled, he was not allowed to leave his room for any reason. Asher hadn't eaten anything since that fateful day, he would take his medicine and lay down until he slept. …
King Owen stepped into the cold dark dungeon, lit up by the torches hung on the walls. Tristan leaned on the wall quietly, he sensed someone's shadow and opened his eyes.
Owen lowered his gaze to the bandit. "What is your name?"
"Tristan."
"And your relationship with my son?"
Tristan paused for a while then answered. "His lover."
The king pinched his nose bridge, engulfed in secondhand embarrassment. He exhaled. "How much do you need to stay away from him?"
