I checked my reflection for the last time. The man looking back at me was, while familiar in the face, a stranger. Not the devilishly handsome scoundrel who'd caused riots in Acewood, but a gentle-hearted, peaceful soon-to-be ruler. Decorated and dressed-up, painted and monarch-like. Or so, everyone would think.

Maid—I believed her name was Petra, which she'd begged me to scream when I climaxed—had laid out the perfect outfit for me, tailored to my measurements. Upon noticing that nothing in this prince's closet fit me, she wasn't even suspicious. She sent for a seamstress to adjust all the clothing, and the woman worked tirelessly to have at least a few outfits for me. Exquisite breeches, finely woven shirts, sturdy, buckled shoes, a fur-lined cloak; all so regal, so luxurious, so unlike me. But it'd have to work for my great escape from my chambers.

Or more like my grand arrival in the rest of the castle.

It was time. I'd been holed up in these chambers long enough. And while the place was enormous, it felt smaller and smaller the more I remained within its gilded walls. The more I stared at its gilded walls, having run out of reading material. I needed air—and not a whiff from the balcony and the sea-spray from outside. Real air. Castle air. Corridor air. Air from a dining room, a ballroom, a throne-room; air brought in by courtiers who'd prostrate at my feet.

I'd read all the books on etiquette that I could, ingested all the knowledge necessary. I was ready to take my place on this throne. A stolen throne, yes, but as I'd discovered, many of the new staff-members didn't even know what I looked like. It wouldn't be difficult to fool everyone else into thinking I was this Teodric. We had the same dark hair—though mine was longer, greasier—and while my skin was darker, it wouldn't be hard to powder it at first. I had a bigger build, but for all these nobles knew, I'd bulked up and worked out and gained more strength.

This was never the plan that I'd devised. Falling into another world? Fucking a serving girl that I didn't know? Plotting to usurp a throne that wasn't mine? No, not me. I was supposed to help another usurper, but not here. My boss waited for me in Efura—and I was here in Eroa. Useless, purposeless, and he'd be furious about it.

But I imagined he'd want me to do this, since I had no other choice. Our plans in Acewood went awry since I ended up here, but that didn't mean I couldn't enact different plans with a similar goal. He wanted a throne? I'd get one for him in Springport. And if he ever deigned to come save me, he could take it.

My fists balled at my sides, tugging on the snug leather fabric around my hands. "We had a plan," I grumbled, my teeth grinding. My face flushed with heat, bringing out the depth of my scar, burning it. Whenever I became irritated, it flared in pain, reminding me to calm down.

But we had a plan, him and I. They and I. It was all ready, set in motion. Places, key words, hidden spots. I had orders to execute, which were interrupted when I stumbled through the mirror.

Had my associate executed his orders? Had the rest of the plan continued as hoped?

"It must have," I said, adjusting my crisp, lacy collar, and fanning out the matching sleeves. The ensemble was a tad exuberant for my taste, but Petra assured me this was expected of a prince about to be crowned. "Otherwise, they'd have rescued me by now. If I was as essential as they claimed..."

My cheeks hurt from grinding my teeth and growling under my breath. I hissed, moving away from my mirrored image to sit at the desk, near which the window was open, letting in a blast of cool air. I'd grown annoyed with the scent of the ocean and the fishiness, but I craved the freshness now, needed it to calm me down.

I'd tried so many things to get out of there. Screaming at the mirror, banging on it, attempting to speak in cryptic magical rhymes to force it to open up. I threw all manners of liquids on it, recited poetry to coax it into opening. I'd researched magic in this realm, but it truly was only a legend. There were no formulas, no incantations, no potions to craft that would make my body mold into the mirror in the hopes of it swallowing me up. Nothing.

I'd even considered, in one of my darker moments, that maybe I needed to sacrifice someone to activate the mirror. As nefarious as the act sounded, I'd definitely witnessed the mages in Acewood conducting those sorts of rituals for some of their bigger spells. Granted, it was animals they sacrificed, and not humans; but wouldn't a human's blood attract even more magic?

Then I'd looked down at Petra curled up in my arms, her naked flesh still wet with sweat as she slept soundly. While I'd grown bored with her—there were only so many ways to suck my cock until I wanted us to play at something different—I didn't wish her dead. She'd been quite useful to me, and I planned to reward her once I was on the throne.

Once I'm on the throne.

I'd never aspired to becoming royalty. If anything, I wanted royalty abolished. Those riots I'd headed in Acewood weren't only against the mages—we wanted the king gone. The princesses gone. Some simply wanted them to abandon their posts and reject their inheritance; but I wanted them dead. More so after my brothers perished due to their negligence. My siblings should have been imprisoned, and later pardoned, like me; instead, they were executed on someone's orders. I never found out whose, and Hendry died before confessing whether he'd instigated it.

Yet, there I was. Dressed in tight-fitting breeches, shiny shoes on my feet in place of my rough boots, a cloak of velvet and fur waiting for me by the door. My hair was slicked back, tamed compared to usual, and my normally rugged scent was covered up by buckets of perfume. Bulky rings adorned my fingers, over my gloves, and a heavy chain dangled down from my neck, almost forcing me to hunch forward with its weight.

"No," I said, cringing as I approached my reflection once more. A prissy prince was what I looked like. A large man, but with a pampered face, a fluffed-up outfit. "This...this isn't me."

I growled at myself, not recognizing the warrior that I was, the mercenary I'd been trained to be. I wasn't posing as Prince Teodric—I was taking his crown. Yet here I resembled a frightened puppy, a puppet tussled up to sit in a throne and do as commanded.

If this throne was mine, I wouldn't glue myself to it and smile prettily; I would do as I pleased. And I'd informed myself enough of the ways Springport worked.

I knew what to do.

I ripped the thick fabrics from my body—the too-fancy shirt, the restrictive breeches, the atrocious tights I'd been told were custom. The damn shoes had to go, too; no way would I wear those longer than needed, as they clamped around my feet and suffocated them. I used the shirt to smear off the powder cloaking my face.

I wouldn't hide who I was. I wouldn't hide that I was someone else, and if anyone dared to contradict me, to tell me I wasn't Teodric...I'd laugh. I'd nod.

Of course I'm not Teodric; my name is Jack, and I'm usurping this throne.

I shrugged my fingers through my hair, pulling out the tufts of gel and flakes of gold I'd been asked to pepper over my strands, to appear more regal. "Ha!" I snorted, shaking out the remaining flakes. "I'll be regal in my own way, and they'll have to deal with it."

My old clothing—what I'd arrived wearing—was stored in the back of the closet, because Petra found it repulsive. A turnoff, she'd said. I grinned as I removed the dirty boots, the shaggy, stained trousers, and the loose-fitting tunic that smelled like me; rough and manly. Earthy and tinted with my musk.

I couldn't wait to be revolting to her, to all of them. The more they feared me, the easier it'd be to make this crown mine.

I hesitated as I tossed the tunic on, tugged the trousers up my bare legs. This wasn't what I wanted. I was supposed to be in Acewood, aiding in the coup I'd orchestrated, the sinister situation I'd put in place. Instead, I was staging a new coup here, taking up power that I'd likely not know how to wield properly. But it was that, or remain in this room pretending to be sick, growing weak as I waited for saviors that would never come.

If they did come, I wanted them to find me seated atop a throne, garbed in my own clothes, grouchy in my own right. I wanted them to see me, fear me, remember what I was capable of even if I didn't have their magic or their charms. They'd know, upon finding me poised up there, in my new element, that I wasn't to be trifled with. They should have sought ways to rescue me immediately, instead of focusing on their plots in Acewood.

They'd be overcome with regret at not having prioritized me.

Satisfied with my improved image, I squinted, taking in my soiled cloak, my grubby boots. I harbored a resemblance to a lone hunter who'd gotten lost and eaten forest game for weeks to survive. Or a rogue mercenary who'd clawed his way out of a dungeon and ran for hours to escape his captors.

The latter explanation was closer to the truth—I was a rogue mercenary. An Acewood knave who'd been punished, imprisoned, then released on good behavior; and I was about to ruin myself with bad behavior.

I loved it. I craved it. The aroma of despair that the courtiers would exude when they saw me instead of their pampered prince—I thrived on it.

I licked my lips, bracing for an uproar, a commotion, and a horde of people who'd have no choice. The guards would back me, because they didn't know better, they thought they were protecting their monarch. But Teodric wasn't here. He was in my home, taking my place, but he wasn't a prince over there. He was no one.

Me? I was about to become everything he dreamed of being. I was about to snatch away his crown, his throne, his home. Was it his fault that our places were switched? Perhaps not, but I didn't care. He was the one in a place with magic, and if he'd wanted to return to his home, he'd have done so by now. The fact that he hadn't only fueled my madness.

I rolled my shoulders back, ruffled my hair for a messy effect, and pinched my lips. "Oh, well, it's too late, anyway. This castle is mine. Farewell, Teodric."

♥♣♦♠