Page 20 of Impaled By His Omega Prince
“I was curious, Father.” Changing his moniker had Kershai softening a little, opening an arm to welcome him in for a hug. “About the goddesses.”
An amused grin ticked the corner of his mouth up and Kershai drew him away from his wing, escorting Lumic to one of their sitting parlors, a more private family one. Several generations of Croatens royalty’s height had been notchedon a pillar and the rugs in there, while threadbare, smelled comfortable, and held all the marks of hard play of youth.
“Oh?” Kershai, powerful in thalm but poor in control, waved a hand in a simple gesture, conjuring a small butterfly made of thalmic light. It fluttered around his head as he spoke quietly, requesting tallroot milk and biscuits. The warm steeped milk, sweetened with honey, was a favorite treat of Lumic and never failed to bring him comfort.
With the spell on his lips, the butterfly flew away—such a simple but powerful trick that Lumic would have paid dearly for if it could be used to travel distance. They only held power within a certain range of the caster, which made it perfect for staff.
“Why have the goddesses forsaken Croatens?”
Kershai leaned back thoughtfully. “Well, you know the story about the prince and the priest?”
Lumic had indeed known the story, where an omega prince took a lover from high in a dusk temple. He stole the alpha away from his duties and they chose their own path, one of love rather than one of fates ordained by the goddesses.
“And you know it has as much truth as the midden, right?” Kershai lowered his gaze and sat back, relaxing for a moment as an attendant came rushing in with a tray loaded with treats.
Lumic was starving and took a handful of the sweets and his tallroot milk to enjoy the rich, hot, pink silk of it. Sweet, nutty, a hint of bitterness after. It made his cheeks warm, as it did Kershai’s with a visible pink flush. “I mean, there’s a kernel of truth somewhere in there.”
Kershai snorted. “And there’s plenty of kernels in the midden, but I wouldn’t hazard trusting one.”
Lumic’s stomach turned at the analogy, and he put his drink down. “Well, that ruined my snack.”
“So, I never was one for history and books. But I loved that story. Remember all those little stories and poems I wrote for you and the boys when you were small?”
Lumic did indeed remember the fanciful tales his father would write. They were some of the fondest memories he treasured from his childhood. With a nod from Lumic, Kershai continued.
“The alpha priest in that story may very well have not been willing. And the goddesses have pretty much snubbed Croatens since. But it makes sense we wouldn’t tell the truth of it. As embarrassing as it is. But it stands that the goddesses do not speak to any citizen of the nation. Nor do the royalty ask forgiveness.”
“Should we?” Lumic stared at his cooling tallroot milk.
“That’s a question for Pallosar. And a question for you, when you take over.” Kershai finished his drink and sat the cup down far more gently than his size would have dictated. “But no goddess would speak to us. I doubt they’d listen.”
Lumic followed suit and drained his drink. “What could it hurt?”
Kershai stared at his empty cup before turning it slightly, aligning the handle with the tray. “All this time has passed and perhaps the goddesses have forgotten. An apology might remind them. You’re of traitor’s blood, after all.”
Lumic slouched and sighed, mind reeling. The goddess had saved him… For Askara. But something else occurred to Lumic. “Da… wouldn’t that mean I’m also the blood of her priest?”
Kershai silenced and took a deep breath before speaking. “Every fourth year, our crops fail. No nation will ally with us.” The hesitation that wrenched his face twisted into something stricken. “Fratricide.”
“Fratricide? Stamel failed, and is that part of it?” Lumic’s heart skipped a beat as he hesitated.
Kershai nodded. “We didn’t want to let that legacy weigh over you. But Stamel failed by the grace of his own incompetence.”
The grace of a goddess.
“And I don’t want him dead.” Lumic rubbed his face and sighed heavily, more certain by the moment that he wanted Askara. All the appeal of a stuffed animal, plus the warmth of a body and the most fantastic knot. He narrowly avoided drooling.
“As a consequence of those curses, we’ve become some of the best in this continent at preserving food. We’ve grown significantly as sellswords and militant noncombat footwork.” Kershai waved his hand dismissively.
“Not much of a curse when we can keep the bandits and flashpines at bay without pissing off the wrong countries.” Lumic snorted.
“But your father bears the weight of the treachery of his brothers. And we fear that Stamel and Ingred are headed down the wrong path.” Kershai took a deep breath. “Ingred is acting on his own and has caused issues with Liaberos, that combined with Alluin’s summer estate.”
Lumic nodded. “And Stamel is locked up, waiting for his true love?”
“Something like that.” Kershai stood and bid Lumic good night, kissing him on the head as he shuffled out. In the doorway, he paused, hand on the frame. “Do what your heart says is right. And feel free to tell your father that you don’t like his choices in mates. I found them all rather boring.”
The statement brought warmth to Lumic’s belly. If he was swift and left soon, he could be in Askara’s bed by the moon’s highest.
