Apple happily snatched yet another roll of salami from the servant, shooing them off to scuttle off to the gardens with his prize. Being a concubine was amazing. When his mother had originally brought the idea up, he’d scoffed. Carrying children for some pompous ruler his kingdom despised? He’d sooner fall on a sword.

The Leporwynn Kingdom had been seized and subsequently ruled by the Felidaris Empire centuries ago, the first to fall when the Felidae began their conquest. Leporwynn was small with no army to defend themselves. It’d been simple for the Leo—royal bastards—to come in and take control. His own mother couldn’t recall a time where Leporwynn was free. Apple didn’t care that he was technically Felidae. His species and place of birth meant nothing to him. He’d been raised by a Musuculus mother. The majority of his life had been in Leporwynn. Even if he’d never quite fit in, always regarded with unease, that had been his home. They were his people.

It wasn’t until his mother mentioned he wouldn’t have to work again that he considered it.

The only other thing Apple hated more than royalty was working. He longed to lounge around in the sun and be fed strips of rare meat. Instead he worked at his mother’s tavern as a lowly barkeep. He loved his mother and his siblings, truly, but he didn’t share their passion for hospitality. Perhaps it was because of his species and the way others were automatically frightened of him. Apple preferred to be left alone.

His older sister, Star, had agreed with their mother. She wanted Apple to be around his “own species” for once. Her exact words. He didn’t—couldn’t, really—understand why he needed to. Was he not one of them? Regardless of how other people saw him, Apple had always thought his own family ignored that he was Felidae. Except when he’d asked, his younger brother, Wisp, had stated they were always aware of what he was.

For the first time, Apple had felt alone. Were they waiting for him to leave? Had his mother simply raised him out of pity? He thought back to every time he’d been too lazy to help out at the tavern, or how he complained about certain patrons while they listened. Apple wondered if they’d silently rolled their eyes, whispered about him to one another. He couldn’t stomach being there anymore.

So, like the coward he was, he ran.

Becoming a concubine for the royal family was typically a difficult process, but you were a new ruler, wet around the ears, with only seven concubines. Previous ones had more. Your mother had well over a dozen before her passing.

Felis were a rare species. The first concubine—rumored to be your favored—was one: Juni, the simpering wench. Apple thought the way he pitifully trailed after you was disgusting. Juni’s devotion was real and suffocating. He couldn’t fathom being so loyal to one person. It had, however, inspired him.

Apple wasn’t some domesticated species like Juni; he simply looked like he was. His mother used to tell him he looked like a Felis but that he wasn’t. It’d worked in his favor now, though. Apple feigned his surprise when he was named your newest concubine, batted his lashes and pretended to grow embarrassed in your presence.

He would be lying if he said you weren’t attractive—all royals were. At least whatever children he’d produce wouldn’t be hideous. Small mercies. Apple should ask if he’d be expected to actually raise them. They were your heirs, shouldn’t the servants step in and make sure they were prepared for the throne? No, was only one heir chosen? He hardly cared. His life had become incredibly easy. No longer did he work or have any expectations. He was free.

It meant nothing that he’d escape to the gardens to cry on his own. But why were you in his favorite spot to sob? Apple didn’t want to pretend to be interested in you. He’d already done so earlier.

“Your Majesty,” he said, forcing a demure smile, “I did not expect you here.” He looked toward the ground, pretending to fidget as though he was nervous. “Did you need me?”