Page 16 of Royally Flocked

“Shall we head there after we eat?”

Orrin beamed. “Yes, please.”

With the matter settled, Erus reached for his fork, but before he could grab it, his cell phone vibrated against the tabletop. Glancing at the screen, he sighed when he saw Pepper’s name pop up, along with three new text messages.

PEPPER: Come back now.

PEPPER: Bring your prince, if you want, but get your ass back here.

PEPPER: I’m not kidding. I’m going to murder someone.

It took a lot to provoke his assistant, so if he was legitimately contemplating murder, something big must have happened. So, he shot off a quick reply to inquire about the state of affairs back in San Diego, then dug into his breakfast.

Instead of responding like a normal person, however, Pepper appeared at his elbow, startling Orrin so badly that water sprayed from his lips.

“Where the bloody hell did you come from?” he demanded through sputtering coughs.

It was kind of endearing the way his accent became more pronounced when he was irritated. Erus also found it cute when he cursed, especially since it was so tame as to barely count.

“Apologies, Your Highness.” Dressed in his signature black—a button-down with matching slacks and polished wingtips, Pepper bowed his head. “Excuse me.”

The familiar disappeared as abruptly as he had arrived.

Orrin blinked at the empty space. “That’s not what I—” A knock on the suite door interrupted whatever he had meant to say. “Are you expecting someone?”

Erus pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “Just come in.”

Though he had spoken at a normal conversational volume, he knew Pepper would hear him. Sure enough, the last syllable still lingered on his tongue when his assistant rematerialized beside him, a disgruntled frown tugging at his bow-shaped lips.

“Speak,” Erus ordered. “Why are you here?”

“Considering you left me to do your job, I’m going to need you to take some of that bass out of your voice.” Conjuring another chair, he dropped down into it with a heavy sigh. “You need to come back.”

Across the table, Orrin cut the remainder of his omelet in half and moved one part to a small saucer. Then, he took Erus’ fork, stabbed a pancake, and added it to the larger plate. After including a few pieces of fruit, he placed the dish in front of Pepper.

“Eat something,” he insisted. “You’ll feel better.”

Pepper mumbled his thanks as he produced a fork and a small glass of milk. Warm milk. The only kind he ever drank. Erus chuckled to himself as he imagined what Sindri would think of that information.

Orrin shot him a glare across the table but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned to Pepper again, his expression softening with concern. “What happened?”

Though Pepper responded to his question, he looked at Erus when he spoke. “The Council has appointed a replacement.”

A little faster than he had anticipated, but he still didn’t see the problem. He would have to leave soon, and naturally, someone would need to take his place.

“Who is it?”

“Anson Miercole.” Pepper’s upper lip curled as if he had smelled something rancid.

“Miercole?” Orrin asked, his brow creased. “As in Councilman Miercole?”

“His grandson.” Pepper jabbed the pancake aggressively with his fork, but he didn’t eat it.

Erus understood the frustration, and he agreed. The entire Miercole family had a reputation for possessing more money and ego than common sense. As for Anson, he had spent the past year working as a clerk in the archives department.

Director of the Ministry Department of Defense was quite the fucking promotion. Clearly, nepotism was still alive and well.

“Has something happened?” Orrin asked.

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