I figure it makes sense to pull from The Contingency Plan for a Throwback Thursday post since the sequel came out a week and a half ago. 😁 The Contingency Plan came out on April 14, 2018, so I guess we’re not going back too far for it, but it is in the past, so technically okay, right?
The excerpt below is from Prince Marcelo’s 3rd-person POV, and picks up immediately after where the excerpt here on my website leaves off:
Marcelo stretched, then stilled. This didn’t feel right. He was on his bed, but wore his daytime clothes and lay atop the coverlet. He opened his eyes. The sun was far too high in the sky for him to be lying abed.
He turned toward the source of the deep voice. Prince Consort Elmer sat in the chair adjacent to the bed.
Why was his father in his bedchamber? His salon, perhaps, would have made sense, but even that was rare. Visits with his parents took place in their suite or in the public rooms. No one except Erich or servants under his direction ever entered Marcelo’s private bedchamber.
“Are you injured? In any pain?” Father asked. “You didn’t appear to hit your head as you fell. Kemble made it over to you in time to support you during your collapse.”
Marcelo’s muscles stiffened, and his breath hitched as memory of the events in the great hall rushed into his mind. “I choose His Royal Highness, Prince Marcelo. The wedding will proceed tomorrow as planned.”
That had actually happened.
“Collapse? How…how…?” Marcelo trailed off, unsure what he wanted to ask. How could such a marriage be possible? Instead he sat and reached for the metal cup on the small bedside table.
“How did you come to awaken in your bed?” Father queried. “Prince Efren carried you. He said it was the least he could do after shocking you into a dead faint.”
The cup slipped from Marcelo’s hand and clattered to the stone floor, spilling water as it rolled, clinking across the room. And now Prince Efren had shocked him a second time. Naturally, Marcelo had assumed servants had carried him.
An unfamiliar tingle raced through his body at the thought of being held by the prince in such an intimate manner. Or was it caused by remembering the curious half-smile when the prince had let Marcelo “win” the stare-down, or the way he’d looked confidently into Marcelo’s eyes when he’d announced his choice?
Marcelo cleared his throat and shook off the strange feeling. “Father, I don’t understand. How can this be? Men don’t marry other men, and royal sons in Sheburat don’t marry anyone.”