Page 23 of Impaled By His Omega Prince
“Lu. Please. Dear.” Pallosar stepped forward. “You can talk to me. You do know this, right?”
Lumic shook his head and fought a shaking breath. It wasn’t like him to cry, but it had been stressful. Recovering from his ordeal hadn’t gone smoothly. “Askara can’t be dead.”
“I’m sorry, but everyone in that castle fell to the sword. Oryn swears by it, as much as I wished otherwise. We’ve got Alluin in a panic and let me tell you, there’s hell on the way because we got missive that King Nemiah is on his way with his mate who only just recently gave birth—they’re very upset.” Pallosar’s gaze fellas his fingers brushed the worn quilt, brows furrowed. “What is this tatty thing?”
Before Pallosar could take the quilt, Lumic stepped back, holding the quilt tighter. “It’s…”
His omega father waited patiently, face relaxing from the confused anger into something more fatherly.
“It’s his quilt. Askara.” The words cracked coming from his throat.
“Oh, Lumic. I thought it was—sometimes when a person is held against their will, they attach to things they shouldn’t, to comfort themselves.” Pallosar reached out as if he were going to take the blanket away.
“I’m not tower-addled. He was different…and he sawme.” Lumic said the last part as a whisper. “He didn’t see…”
Lumic gestured up and down his chest, indicating his body, his horns. “This.”
Pallosar frowned and reached out, taking his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you as you are. You are a fitting image of Kershai, and many,manymales found him beautiful.”
“But I am not alpha.” Lumic rubbed the back of his hand into his eyes and scoffed. “And it’s—I don’t know why I’m crying! We didn’t have enough time together for me to give the man my heart, but he saw my wings and thought they were beautiful. He praised me for being confident and forward.”
Pallosar wilted and took Lumic into a broad hug. “Shhh. I’m so sorry, Lu. I’ll send them away.”
Lumic sniffed as Pallosar tucked an errant lock of hair from his face and patted his cheek. “Go bathe and see the healer. I won’t be satisfied until you’ve got a clean bill of health.”
“Is this where I refuse because there’s no cure for a broken heart?” Lumic scoffed.
Without as much as a blink, Pallosar snorted. “I know my tastes, boy. Your broken heart laments for more than a good soul. He must have been a fantastic bedmate.”
Lumic groaned. “He was so good, Papa.”
“Alright. Off to your chambers.” Pallosar shooed him away. “Bathe. I’ll bring some citronelia wine up and we can lament the loss together…preferably away from your father’s ears, because I can tell you some truly sad stories about my conquests.”
Lumic snorted, oddly placated by the admission. “I’d like that very much, Father.”
They parted ways in the foyer, Lumic trudging to his chambers to bathe as told. Idly, he thought about going to the healer as instructed, but he found himself exhausted, only wanting to sleep and hide away from the world.
When Pallosar returned, waking him with a tsk of displeasure, he let the healer into his bedchambers. “I’ll see you in your parlor once you’re done.”
Lumic rose from his bed and threw on a shirt, shuffling up to meet their healer, an elderly omega with long white hair and filmy blue eyes. His dusk skin reminded Lumic of Askara in ways, but different. The contrast between the two made him think about Askara being moonborne.
“Prince Lumic,” he said by way of greeting, forcing him to sit back on his bed. For someone so thin and wiry, he had a strength to him that Lumic couldn’t ignore.
“Master Jori.” Lumic sulked as Jori grabbed for his ear and peered inside like the very act could let him see his brain ticking away.
“Your father says you’ve been stricken and trouble sleeping. You’ve been tetchy, sleeping a lot and distracted. Do I have it right?” He hummed under his breath and twisted Lumic’s ear with perfunctory touches. While not comfortable, it was gentle in its own way.
“You do. I was dehydrated, held captive, starved, sleep deprived, and sun deprived.” Lumic counted off the things he endured.
“And had your heart broken, I hear. When was your begging night, last?”
It’d been weeks at that point since the event, not that Lumic had paid much mind, rattling off the date. Saying it out loud made his skin prickle, and Jori hummed, not in his thinking way but hisyou know what I’m going to say and you’re going to be mad about itway. It reminded Lumic of the time he got winter fever and had to miss preservation festival.
“Mm-hmm…” Jori placed wisened fingers under Lumic’s jaw and looked in his mouth. “Up with the shirt, boy.”
Lumic pulled his loose linen shirt up and winced at Jori’s cold hand pressing into his belly with exploratory magic. “Well. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
“Fuck.” Lumic shoved his shirt down and stared in cold horror at a wall. “I took my honeythistle and nightflower.”
