Prince and Pawn

PRINCE AND PAWN PERILOUS COURTS BOOK THREE TAVIA LARK Copyright © 2023 Tavia Lark All Rights Reserved Cover Design by Trif Book Design No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without written permission from the author, except for brief quotations in a book review and similar legal uses. If you want to print out your favorite quote and stick it on your fridge, that’s totally allowed. Pirating is not. All characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Content Notes: This book includes past child neglect, consensual rough sex and pain play, accidental aphrodisiac consumption, and creative use of magic vines. www.tavialark.com ❧ Perilous Courts Prince and Assassin Prince in Disguise Prince and Pawn Coming Soon Prince and Bodyguard Prince and Betrothed Prince of Agony Let’s keep in touch! New Release Newsletter: TaviaLark.com/List Bonus Content: Patreon.com/TaviaLark Tavia’s Lark Nest: Facebook.com/Groups/TaviaLark Table of Contents Chapter 1: Corin Chapter 2: Audric Chapter 3: Corin Chapter 4: Audric Chapter 5: Corin Chapter 6: Audric Chapter 7: Corin Chapter 8: Audric Chapter 9: Corin Chapter 10: Audric Chapter 11: Corin Chapter 12: Audric Chapter 13: Corin Chapter 14: Audric Chapter 15: Corin Chapter 16: Audric Chapter 17: Corin Chapter 18: Audric Chapter 19: Corin Chapter 20: Audric Chapter 21: Corin Chapter 22: Audric Chapter 23: Corin Chapter 24: Audric Chapter 25: Corin Chapter 26: Audric Chapter 27: Corin Chapter 28: Audric Chapter 29: Corin Chapter 30: Audric Chapter 31: Corin Epilogue Hello From Tavia Lark More From Tavia Lark ❧ CHAPTER ONE Corin Corin Marcel touches the pile of new clothes and tries not to cry. It’s stupid to be so upset over this. Duchess Tarenne will chastise him if she notices, so Corin bites the inside of his lip and keeps his head down as she continues. “You should have told me about the state of your wardrobe before this.” Tarenne’s scolding pushes against the walls of Corin’s shabby bedroom. “Instead, I had to learn about it from Geoffrey. I can’t believe you were about to travel to Sandrelle in rags like this.” Tarenne gestures to the servants carrying off bags of Corin’s old clothing. Her gaudy ruby and gold ring glitters on her hand. She’s tall, well-curved, with strong features and dark brown hair. It’s clear at a glance she and Corin look nothing alike. Corin is too small, his long strawberry-blond hair too eye-catching. “I couldn’t have anything fitted on such short notice, so you’ll have to make do,” Tarenne continues. “But at least you won’t embarrass us in Sandrelle now.” Tarenne pauses as if to take a breath, but the pause stretches for long enough that Corin realizes he’s supposed to fill it. “Thank you for your kindness, Your Grace.” “Such grudging gratitude after all this house has done for you.” Tarenne shakes out her skirts and heads towards the door. “I expect you at the ceremony tomorrow, so don’t stay up too late tonight. I don’t want you collapsing in front of Prince Audric.” She almost sounds concerned, but Corin knows she just doesn’t want him to interrupt the betrothal ceremony. Tarenne doesn’t care about Corin’s fainting spells as long as they don’t happen in front of anyone important. “I’ll be there, Your Grace.” Satisfied, Tarenne glides out of Corin’s meager bedroom. The servants follow after finishing their tasks. By the time he’s alone, Corin doesn’t want to cry anymore. He’s too cold and resigned. Gratitude has become harder to muster every year since Duke Florian took him in. Corin first met his noble father after his mother passed away. Mama wasn’t even the duke’s mistress—just a bed worker he visited a few times. For the first thirteen years of Corin’s life, Duke Florian Marcel was a distant fairy tale of a father. As far away as the stars, though House Marcel’s castle Swanfort sat right there on the edge of Marcelline. Someone Mama promised he would meet someday soon. Always someday soon. That day arrived after Mama’s funeral, when Duke Florian finally swept Corin from the streets of Marcelline in the finest carriage Corin had ever seen. Corin was grieving, desperate for a new family. Somewhere to belong. What he found was a cold castle full of disdain. Duchess Tarenne resented Corin immediately, no longer able to ignore the evidence of her husband’s infidelity. But while Florian never acknowledged Corin on the family register, he also refused to send Corin away from Swanfort. So here Corin has stayed, avoiding Tarenne as best he can, until now. Tomorrow, Corin’s half-brother Geoffrey will be betrothed to Prince Audric Sandry. The arrangement has been months in the making, but Corin only learned last week that he’s expected to accompany Geoffrey to the royal palace of Sandrelle. That had been planned for months too, apparently, but nobody thought to tell Corin. Geoffrey assumed Corin already knew, but who else would have told him? The faded, papered walls of his bedroom close around Corin. Spread-wing swans carved into the cornices stare from every direction. Corin’s old clothes weren’t good. Shabbily mended, worn out enough that even the stiffest brocade jacket was shamefully comfortable. Two years out of date at best. He hasn’t grown much in the past few years, so there’s been no need to replace anything. None of his clothes were good, and none were truly his. As the duchess is fond of noting, Corin owes everything to House Marcel, even the clothes on his back. But they were familiar. From now on, nothing else will be. A new palace and new people, and now new clothing itching the back of his neck. The only familiar things will be Geoffrey and the rest of Geoffrey’s servants. Corin touches the padded linen coat on top of the pile. This year’s colors, pastel blue and green, but none of the ornamentation Geoffrey’s jackets have. The stitching is rushed. Corin won’t embarrass House Marcel in this, but he won’t impress