Princes of Chaos

Princes of Chaos Royals of Forsyth U Angel Lawson Samantha Rue Contents Foreword Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Afterword Foreword Dear Queens, If this is your first Royals of Forsyth book, we suggest going back to the beginning, Lords of Pain, to prepare for the full experience of Princes of Chaos. Each series is set in the same world of Forsyth U and although they can be considered standalone/a separate harem, this world bleeds like a face wound. It’s messy and hard to contain. If you are a friend or family member looking to be supportive, we appreciate it! But it’s better for everyone, and future family dinners, if you just skip this series. This is not the place for you. Or anyone with any real sensibilities. Now that we’re all ready to proceed, let’s talk content. Queens, it’s hard to know where to begin. Like, we literally are unsure if we can fully explain what you’re about to experience in Princes of Chaos. This book is about breeding. Contractual, dubiously consensual, breeding. That takes place in a house of horrors filled with three trauma monsters and a ruthless King. It’s rough. Poor Verity has no f-ing clue what she’s about to get into. And therefore, neither do you. These guys are… well, you’re about to find out. You’re going to hate them, but we know you love them that way. Absolutely, 100%, irredeemable. Until, of course, they are. Princes of Chaos contains: breeding, non/dub, insertion, inflation, medical kink, edging and withholding, and some light-dick touching for our readers’ pleasure. They’re spoiled, mean and controlling. Also, if you’re sensitive to issues surrounding torture, prior childhood sexual abuse, drug addiction and use, physical abuse/punishment, and misogyny, you may want to sit this one out. If you haven’t already, click on the link below and join our Monarch’s group for community, book news and other goodies! Also, check out our exclusive Royals of Forsyth U website for bonus content and links to our store! Angel & Sam Preface Did you read the foreword? Yes? Carry on. No? Go back and read the content warnings. —Samgel 1 Verity It’s not crossing the boundary into East End that does it. Lots of students go into East End, which has the best shops in Forsyth, plus, every kingdom has its more neutral spaces closest to the campus. I wring my hands into my sweatshirt–DKS emblazoned on the front–but feel mostly fine. Aside from the fancy luxury car, whose driver I don’t even know, it could be any other outing to the pristine streets of Ashby’s kingdom. It doesn’t really hit me until the car approaches the bridge. The water is murky, dark, and perfectly still, reflecting the afternoon sun like a mirror as we cross it. Part of me is fascinated, wanting to press my face to the glass and soak in the details. The Princes live in a sprawling estate. It’s tucked away on the outskirts of their territory, the most eastward thing in Forsyth, and it’s completely surrounded by brackish water. I could probably count the West End girls who’ve been invited here on one hand, and for good reason. The Princes are the enemy, and I don’t belong here. Alone. Isolated. On an actual fucking island. My phone dings just then, reminding me that I’m not really alone. It’s not my actual phone–I’d left that behind, just in case. This is one Story smuggled to me just for this purpose, and it only has two contacts. Chrysalis: You there? Vivarium: Going over the bridge now. Chrysalis: Keep us in the loop! Instar: Don’t take any bullshit. Remember who your King is. Some of the panic falls away at Lavinia’s reminder. She’s right. I may be in East End, but I have the power of the DKS frat behind me. The cutsluts. The Dukes, including Simon Perilini, their new King. Not to mention two Queens. The Monarchs. I put my phone away to keep focused on my surroundings. Seeing the large, ornate Victorian mansion rising in the distance, I straighten my back and remain alert, eyes scanning the property. It’s surrounded by a fence, and the car comes to a stop at an enormous, wrought-iron gate. Both gates have an intricate letter “P”, but they’re mirrored so that one is backwards, and everyone knows what they stand for. After a moment of stillness, the gates swing open, and as the car crawls through, I see a whole bank of cameras pointed at us. I begin gnawing at my thumbnail. The Lady hadn’t mentioned it being this heavily surveilled, but who knows? Tonight is the Royal masquerade, and just like Friday Night Fury, it’s open to any Forsyth elite, no matter which kingdom they’re from. Security will be heightened. It’s fine. Probably. Rolling up the drive, I begin noticing the other cars, identical to the one I’m in, parked in a perfect row along the path. And the house… The mansion. The palace. It’s breathtaking. The imposing stone structure is even more beautiful than everyone said it’d be. Its big turrets and slender chimney stacks soar above me, the roofline a collection of glass, tile, and stone that stands regally against the clear sky overhead. The fine detail and heavy ornamentation puts even the West End’s signature clock tower to shame. The moment I step out of the car, it’s easy to forget how this place gets its name. The Purple Palace. It’s not the pale stone facade. It’s the vines that crawl up like capillaries to the bright roofline. Right now, the wisteria and roses covering the side of the building are dormant