Princes Marcelo and Efren as teenagers
Since Iâve got a book coming out tomorrow (đ) Iâm going to feature the characters from that story. The Plans Trilogy Box Set is a light fantasy story with a medieval-like setting.
Prince Marcelo of Sheburat
Marcelo is a rare royal son in the matriarchal society of Sheburat. He doesnât even have a high school equivalent because royal sons in this realm finish their formal education earlier than the more highly valued royal daughters. At barely eighteen, Marcelo is technically still a teenager when the events in this trilogy (which span a total of less than two âmoon cyclesâ) take place.
Though undereducated, Marcelo is a curious young man who often spends time in the castle library. Even so, he isnât well-informed on politics in the four realms (or rather Sheburatâs slant on them) when he is shocked to discover heâs been selected under an eighteen-year-old treatyâs contingency plan to marry the crown prince of Zioneven, Sheburatâs former enemy.
Marceloâs very first move (after recovering from his swoon) is to spend the afternoon in the library, so clearly he values knowledge. And heâs intelligent enough to question what he reads about the people of Zioneven as it doesnât align with his firsthand observations of them earlier that same day at the assembly where his upcoming marriage was announced. This prompts Marcelo to later gently quiz his personal servent as to what heâs learned from Zionevenâs servants about his husband-to-beâs kingdom (and also moreâŠpersonal concerns đŹ).
In a nutshell, before his marriage, Marcelo was fairly subdued, obedient, and solitary. No need to worry about him, though. Heâll have plenty of opportunity for personal growth during the course of the trilogy, and heâll fully embrace it!
Crown Prince Efren of Zioneven
In the trilogy, Efren is five years older than Marcelo. Heâs a fair-minded, confident-appearing and somewhat cocky twenty-three. We can have some fun imagining him as a teenager.
I say âconfident-appearingâ because in The Contingency Plan, he doesnât hesitate to assert himself toward the matriarchal queen of Sheburat. But itâs the best he can do to hold himself together when Marcelo is abducted in The Best-Laid Plans.
This gives us hints as to Efrenâs life as a teen. Heâs the crown prince of Zioneven. Heâs got a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. He told Marcelo about the annual tour of Zioneven he takes with his father each year, and I can picture Efren as a teen doing his best to become the man he needs to be to one day replace his father as king of Zioneven.
Even in his young twenties, he has doubts about himself, though he does an admirable job of hiding that most of the time. As a less-mature teen, I picture the cocky side of his nature taking a larger role in covering up his insecurities.
In Change of Plans we see in the opening scene (and by comments from a couple family members later) that it is not entirely unusual for Efren to have overnight âguests.â No doubt this custom began as a teen.
I can easily picture his father, the king, having a talk with young Efren about respect and boundaries. Efren is kind and fair-minded by nature, but certainly emulating and seeking his fatherâs approval helped shape his character.
We know from the way Efren treats a terrified Marcelo when they awaken together after having had the last couple moon cycles erased from their memories overnight, which includes all memories of each other and their marriage, that Efren is the empathetic, caring young man he strived to become as a teen.
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K.L. Noone â Read Around the Rainbow: what were your characters like in high school, or as teenagers?
Ellie Thomas â Read Around the Rainbow: Story Characters as Teenagers at High School
(Plans Trilogy â Complete Box Set)
Blurb
Once upon a time, two handsome young princes fell in love, faced down adversity, and lived happily-ever-afterâŠuntil one romantic evening, they unwittingly ate a confection laced with a mind-wiping toxin.
In this light fantasy world, four realms have settled into an uneasy peace. A surprise twist to a prearranged marriage agreement spawns this story of unexpected love, newfound courage, and heroic adventure. Join Princes Efren and Marcelo on their heart-warming journey as they sort through misleading twists and turns to defeat devious foes. Twice! Contains the stories:
The Contingency Plan: An untimely death throws a marriage arrangement, the final phase of a treaty, into disarray. Now the Crown Prince of Zioneven can make his own choice from among the princessâs younger siblings. As a royal son in the matriarchal sovereignty of Sheburat, Prince Marcelo grew up knowing Royal sons never married. Never. Period. Except Prince Efren isnât from Sheburat, and he has other plans.
The Best-Laid Plans: A death that wasnât what it seemed ⊠A kidnapping that isnât what it seems ⊠Time is running out. Enmeshed in political intrigue, death, and a kidnapping, will Prince Efren untangle the web of clues in time to save his naĂŻve young husband, or will Prince Marcelo dig deep to discover a previously untapped inner strength and determination to facilitate his own survival?
Change of Plans: Once upon a time, two handsome young princes fell in love, faced down adversity, and lived happily-ever-after⊠until one romantic evening, they unwittingly ate a confection laced with a mind-wiping toxin. Are their chances at rekindling their love doomed? Or will their ignominious new beginning propel them toward a more teasingly fun rapport?
Also contains three bonus scenes not included with the individual stories.
Links/Info
Box Set Links
Publisher | Kindle | Books2Read
Add it onâŠ
BookBub | GoodReads | QueeRomance Ink | LimFic
Series Links
Books2Read | Amazon (3 Books in KU)
Info
Release Date: May 28, 2022 @ JMS Books, LLC
Length: Novel / 234 pages (PDF) /Â 73,459 words
Cost: $4.99
ISBN: 9781685501372
ASIN: B0B1BS5T2C
Heat Rating: 3 flames â Moderate â While physical details are described, they are not graphically depicted.
Excerpts
BOOK 1: THE CONTINGENCY PLAN
With everyone now in attendance, Queen Giselle stepped forward. âYour Royal Highness, Ladies and Lords, and people of Zioneven, please accept our warm welcome to Sheburat, and I hope youâll accept our sincere apology for the chaos in which you find us today.â
Prince Efren inclined his head. âOf course, Your Majesty. On behalf of Zioneven, I offer our heartfelt condolences on the loss of your beloved daughter.â
âThank you,â Queen Giselle replied. âSadly, our loss yesterday affects more than simply causing us private pain.â
âIndeed.â Prince Efren kept his reply short, perhaps diplomatically leaving it to Queen Giselle to either further the conversation toward whether or not he was ready to choose his alternate, or to wait for a time when her grief would be less immediate.
His mother would put diplomacy first, Marcelo didnât doubt that. The conversation may or may not happen today, but it would occur during this visit. Diplomacy always came ahead of personal concerns.
âAlthough disappointment caused by the cancellation of the wedding weâd expected tomorrow is unavoidable,â Queen Giselle said. âI hope youâll find a small comfort in knowing that you may now make your own choice of your future bride from among my younger daughters rather than the arrangement made on your behalf at the tender age of five.â
Again, Prince Efren inclined his head. âSibling.â
âIâm sorry?â
âSibling. The terms of the treaty specify I may choose an alternate from among Princess Marcelaâs younger siblings. It didnât restrict the choice to daughters.â
Marcelo stiffened. What in the world could Prince Efren mean by that? Men didnât marry men. At least, heâd never heard of such a thing occurring in Sheburat. Marcelo wasnât alone in his bewilderment. Everyone on his side of the room stilled. None of the faces opposite them exhibited confusion. Was that an acceptable option in Zionevenâs culture?
It was only by mere minutes, but Marcelo did qualify as a younger sibling to Marcela.
For the first time in Marceloâs recollection, his mother faltered. âDoâŠsurelyâŠbutâŠâ
Marcelo turned his head toward her, his wide eyes silently imploring her to voice an objection. Kemble may have recently grown complacent thinking herself in the clear, but sheâd at least spent her life knowing she was the likely backup plan.
As a royal son in this matriarchal society, Marcelo had grown up knowing he would never marry. Never. Royal sons did not marry. Period.
Heâd been perfectly happy with that knowledge because heâd never experienced the attraction that men outside the royal family felt toward women. In fact, heâd enjoyed knowing he would not have to merge his life with a womanâs with the expectation of having to bed her.
His gaze flicked back and forth between Queen Giselle and Prince Efren before settling on the prince. Prince Efren had kept his eyes locked with the queenâs, but as if sensing Marceloâs scrutiny, his head turned to reflect Marceloâs regard.
Marceloâs heart thudded so vigorously in his chest, surely everyone in the room must hear it. His respiration quickened. That single word uttered by Prince Efren had shattered Marceloâs understanding of everything he knew about the world and had expected in his life.
Queen Giselle remained frozen for a few more moments, her brows drawn together as she processed the unexpected direction of this discussion. She cast a brief, apologetic glance toward Marcelo, then lifted her shoulders in a barely visible shrug. âThe treaty does indeed use that word. Prince Efren, the choice is yours.â
Marceloâs stomach dropped as her words echoed through the silent hall even though heâd known in his heart that sheâd put Sheburat before her sonâs individual concerns. So, he felt no personal betrayal. It was who is mother had to be.
Prince Efren continued to stare at Marcelo as he firmly stated, âI choose His Royal Highness, Prince Marcelo. The wedding will proceed tomorrow as planned.â
Marcelo swayed as the blood drained from his face. How could this be? How did such a marriage work? Would he be expected toâ
âMarcelo?â Sukyâs whispered tone voiced her concern. âAre you unwell?â
She repeated the words, but from farther away. Or did her voice only seem distant? He wobbled as the people around him faded, and then, thankfully, this nightmare all went away.
Copyright 2018 Addison Albright
BOOK 2: THE BEST-LAID PLANS
Chapter 3: âŠOft Go Awry
Efren
Efren blinked rapidly as he came awake with a start. He stared into the darkness and mentally shook the cobwebs from his mind. What had awoken him? Marcelo lay softly breathing in his arms, as relaxed and peaceful as only the innocent can truly be.
Around him, the night was silent. Too silent? He strained to hear the patrols rustling through the grasses, or the faint trills of their signals to each other.
A breeze swirled through the branches of the trees in the distance, rippling the leaves. Crickets chirped, apparently unconcerned about whatever either was or wasnât going on in the meadow.
And footsteps. Quiet, approaching footsteps. It must be time for the shift change. Thatâs what had awoken him. Efren relaxed and nestled Marcelo tighter against him. One at a time, the guards would come in and wake their replacements.
ExceptâEfren tensed, then maneuvered his arm out from under Marceloâs head and eased himself from under the blanketsâthe footsteps, furtively stopping and restarting, were approaching from multiple directions.
Efren shivered as goosebumps rose on his naked skin in the chilled night air and soundlessly slipped his broadsword and knife from their leather scabbard. He glanced at Marcelo, still sleeping, although less serenely with the sudden loss of the warm body next to him.
Guilt pinged his core as he shook off a strong desire to waken and forewarn Marcelo, but he pushed it down. Marcelo, completely untrained in warfare, would be safer in here. He seemed a heavy sleeper, likely incorporating outside noises into his dreams, unused to a need to be readily alert. He might even doze through the skirmish.
Or was that just wishful thinking? Because thereâd be no hope that Marcelo could escape unseen, if it came to that.
Surely it would be better for such an innocent to be killed in his sleep, or with scarcely a brief moment of shock beforehand than to spend minutes quaking in terror, unable to defend himself.
Efren shook off his doubts and quickly pushed out the weighty flap, sword raised ready, and opened his mouth to yell an alert to awaken any of his warriors who hadnât already sensed the looming danger, same as he had. But the breath he drew to strengthen his voice instead choked him.
Heâd never before smelled these fumes, but the pungent, wet-dog odor had been described to him. The material of their tents was heavily treated to keep the toxin producing that odor from permeating the walls and closed flaps.
Icy apprehension slithered across Efrenâs skin before settling in the pit of his gut. This was a completely unexpected development. The alchemists from the kingdom of Proye whoâd developed this toxinâand unfailingly guarded the recipeâcalled it âKnockout.â
As Efrenâs sword arm dropped, followed swiftly by his eyes rolling back in his head and his body slumping in a boneless crumple, a corner of his brain recognized how fittingly it was named, and hoped that enough of it had entered the tent through the briefly opened flap that Marcelo would succumb before Proye agents executed whatever they had planned. Theyâd been married for less than two days, and already heâd failed his innocent, young husband.
Copyright 2019 Addison Albright
BOOK 3: CHANGE OF PLANS
Chapter 1: Forget-Me-Not
Efren, Present Day
Efren, the crown prince of Zioneven, blinked himself awake and studied the soft curls of beautiful strawberry blond hair haloing the head of the young man slumbering in his arms. Seemed like Efren should have a headache if heâd drunk enough spirits to forget bringing this one home to his bed.
But his head didnât ache, so his personal servant, Dru, must have brought the man in after Efren had fallen asleep. Except, Dru had only ever brought him a gigolo upon request before this, never as a surprise.
He blinked again and shook the remaining cobwebs out of his head. Heâd probably forgotten about an earlier solicitation heâd made to Dru when he had drunk more spirts than he shouldâa habit he needed to break despite his desire to âforgetâ about his upcoming wedding.
Odd that Efren hadnât woken up, but his subconscious must have known he was safe. Likely heâd come half-awake or worked the action into a now-forgotten dream. Obviously, heâd done enough for Dru to feel safe leaving the man with him.
Heat swirled through Efrenâs bloodstream as his gaze traveled the length of that lithe body. He wasnât fooled by the lean physique; strength and a combination of agility and flexibility likely simmered in those beautifully toned limbs.
A lovely surprise to wake up to. He would have to give Dru a bonusâŠalong with a caution to verify Efren was truly and fully awake before leaving a man in his bed. He drew in a lungful of berry-scented hair mixed with a clean, masculine scent.
âWake up, my lovely.â Efren gently shook the manâs shoulder and landed a light kiss to his forehead.
The manâs eyes didnât open, but the movement of his lids gave the impression of blinking without actually taking a peek, and his body stiffened. Perhaps he wasnât a professional, and waking up in a strangerâs bed, he would be scouring his memory, processing where he was and how heâd come to be here.
Efren ran a finger along the manâs jaw, then tipped up his chin for a proper, although still light, kiss. âCome, my lovely. Letâs make the most of this glorious morning, hmm?â He pressed his arousal against the manâs own to augment his words.
Stunning blue eyes that would beautifully reflect the Zioneven summer sky snapped open and stared in horror as if he were shackled in a Proye dungeon with Efren approaching, wielding instruments of torture.
Efren smiled reassuringly. Perhaps the young man had drunk more spirits than he was used to when heâd allowed Dru to coax him to Efrenâs bed and couldnât remember how heâd gotten here. But no, Dru would never bring him a man who was visibly drunk, so the man must be able to hold his liquor well, even if it eventually affected his recall.
âYou are in friendly hands, my lovely. You are free to stay or go, whichever youâd rather.â Efren held his breath and cut off his desire to plead for the man to stay.
With wide, stricken eyes, the man pushed away and scrambled out of bed. Efren huffed a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face. He hefted himself to a sitting position as the young man stumbled to where two sets of clothing lay folded across the backs of chairs.
What had Dru been thinking? Efren gave a mental shrug. This man must be one of those whose personality changed completely when heâd been drinking to be so horrified upon realizing what heâd agreed to while under the influence.
The man sifted through the garments as his breaths grew louder and quicker. His head swiveled as he searched Efrenâs bedchamber. âWhere is my clothing?â His voice wafted out from between quivering lips in a breathy whimper.
More beauty than brains, perhaps? âMy lovely, Iâm sure they must be the smaller of those two sets.â Efrenâs tone was more sardonic than he would have liked, but it was too early in the morning to deal with this level of rejection before his first cup of tea.
The man shook his head. âNot mine.â
But he picked them up anyway and quickly but jerkily stepped into the smaller set of leather leggings before slipping the tunic over his head. His brows came together as he peered down at himself as if perplexed by the perfect custom fit.
Efren snorted, stood, pulled the bell rope to summon Dru, then stepped into his own pair of leather leggings. He held his shoulders back although his inclination was to slump. He was weary of this disappointing scene.
âAs I said, my lovely, you are not a prisoner here. You need not panic so. I have plenty of enthusiastic partners available, and I feel no desire to force myself upon unwilling lovers whoâve changed their minds.â Efren waved a hand toward the door. âNo doubt Dru knows to bring tea and toast for two in case youâre inclined to break your fast before rushing out, but you may leave now if youâd rather. Dru will show you out if you donât remember the way.â Efrenâs tone possibly conveyed his preference for the latter option, but basic civility and deeply ingrained diplomacy demanded he at least make a passing offer of refreshments.
The manâs breath quickened further, and he spun before rushing to the window to throw open the heavy draperies. The sun was reflecting off Zionevenâs majestic mountains to the northeast with the sun just clearing the horizon south of where the range tapered off.
Objectively a beautiful sight, but the man recoiled with an alarm that had ratcheted up several notches. He wobbled as he whirled in place. âWhereâ?â He gulped. âWhoâ?â
A twinge of concern prickled Efrenâs neck. The manâs distress went beyond what one would expect from waking in a strangerâs bed.
Far beyond. Heâd reacted as if the scenery was completely unfamiliar.
âWhere are you from?â Efren asked.
âWhere am I?â the man countered.
The door swung open, and Dru and another servant whom Efren didnât recognize entered, bearing trays.
âErich! Thank goodness!â The young man expelled a breath that also deflated some of the terror that had stiffened his slight frame.
âSir?â Erich sedately placed his tray on a small table, and his brows raised in a manner that conveyed a calming, âHow may I be of service,â rather than a reflection of the manâs panic.
âYes, thank goodness.â Efren rolled his eyes and turned to Dru. âI appreciate the effort, Dru, but next time, please find a bed-warmer who isnât so deep in his cups he wonât remember how he came to be here.â
Dru halted with his laden tray halfway down to another table. âSir?â Druâs brows, unlike Erichâs, came together over widened eyes. In fact, Erichâs countenance now mirrored Druâs. They both stared at Efren with a concentration that brought Efrenâs twinge of concern back to lifeâŠand amplified it.
Dru carefully laid the tray on the table and took a deep breath. âYou donât know one another?â
The worry in Druâs eyes clearly conveyed that they should. They should each recognize the other.
Efrenâs blood chilled as he and the mysterious man both shook their heads. Surely it wasnâtâŠnoâŠit couldnât be. That toxin was strictly outlawed, and nobody had dared use it in years.
Dru gulped and yanked the bell pull three times, signaling an alarm.
âNo,â Efren whispered as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
âIâm sorry, sir.â Druâs eyes mirrored his words. âI fear youâve both been dosed with Forget-Me-Not.â
Forget-Me-Not was banned in all four realms with a very stiff penalty to anyone caught using it. It had originally been developed in Sheburat, but the formula had been discovered and also used by the monarchies in Zioneven, Gagel, and Proye. It hadnât taken long for each to conclude that they were better off if they all agreed to ban its use.
Forget-Me-Not wiped a couple moon cycles worth of memories from its victims, activating during the first sleep after dosing. Those memories were never regained.
If a couple months had gone by since Efrenâs last memoryâwhich had been mere weeks before his journey to Sheburat for his upcoming nuptialsâthen he should be married to Sheburatâs Princess Marcela by now, sealing the final agreement of the two sovereigntiesâ peace treaty.
Efren shivered and stared at his hands. Sure enough, a ring was missing from his pinky finger, replaced by a new, unfamiliar ring.
He frowned. He was married. His shoulders did slump now, although he couldnât complain too much about remembering neither that tedious journey nor the ceremony heâd been dreading. Dare he hope she was already with child so he no longer needed to force himself to go against his nature?
Still, who was this young man with the beautiful strawberry blond curls who stood with his clenched fist holding the top of his tunic closed. âWhatâŠwhat is âForget-Me-Notâ?â
The question seemed rhetorical, because the intelligence heâd written off too soon seeped out from behind those brightly shining eyes as the manâs mind worked toward the answer. An inevitable conclusion considering their current state of confusion, despite the drugâs name being a bit of a misnomer since forgetting was precisely what it accomplished.
With a gasp, Efren stared at the ring gleaming from the manâs third finger as he continued to grip the fabric at his neck. This man was wearing the ring that used to adorn Efrenâs smallest finger.
There was only one possible explanation for that.
Efren stood, straightened his back, and neutralized his features, hoping to appear unthreatening as he crossed the room and took the manâs hands in his own.
âYou must be Prince Marcelo,â Efren said. Apparently, Princess Marcela had died at some point during the month before the wedding, and the contingency plan had been put into place, allowing Efren to choose from amongst her younger siblings. Marcelo was a rare sonâMarcelaâs twin, younger by mere minutesâborn to Sheburatâs matriarchal royal family. Unlike his sisters, eighteen-year-old Marcelo had been kept deliberately naĂŻve and uninformed.
Efren ran his thumb over the ring on Marceloâs finger and gestured to the ring adorning his own finger, which he expected Marcelo would recognize. âAnd I am Efren, the crown prince of Zioneven. It appears we are married.â
The intense focus that had overtaken Marceloâs eyes as Efren approached him faded, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Efrenâs heart leapt, but he managed to inelegantly catch his husband before the manâs now-limp body could drop to the floor.
After hefting Marcelo properly into his arms, Efren carried him to hisâtheirâbed and carefully laid him on the mattress as the sound of many sets of running feet filled the castleâs corridors.
Efren trailed his fingers across Marceloâs forehead and tenderly shifted wayward strands of hair that had fallen across his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and murmured, âI hope youâll forgive me for that ignominious second beginning to our relationship. Surely I was more respectful first time around.â
He sighed, and backed away, letting Dru explain as security personnel filed into the room.
Copyright 2021 Addison Albright
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