Page 5 of Impaled By His Omega Prince
By the runes on his chest, Askara was bound to the castle, and any step outside of its bounds came only with who held his token and King Alluin’s permission. He couldn’t even access his own thalms to use without their permission, and was woefully uneducated in his own magic, despite his score being admirable. Thirty, he recalled.
All the magic in the world did nothing as the guards rode out and gleefully returned shortly after bearing a well-dressed male in a state of dishevelment, hauled on a canvas sheet. Askara could feel the vitalis they used on him and knew what fate would befall their new prize. After all, any fae fool enough to set foot on the queen slayer’s estate would remain until their life or value was forfeit. Usually life.
Usually at Askara’s blade.
He’d heard the male fighting before as he sulked around corridors with an ear held to the wind. Something about him interested Askara. And it wasn’t until their fight that he realized why—omega.
More than an omega, really. The male he’d come to know as Prince Lumic had thalmic magic that oozed from his pores and a scent so much finer than any omega. And in his prayers to the goddesses, the moon told Askara to save him, which was odd, because the moon could be selfish.
But Lumic didn’t need saving. He wielded a sword against Askara with fine grace and strength. If Askara didn’t have the upper hand in the disgraceful scrapping they made him perform, he was certain Lumic would have won. As stood, Cilan had wanted Lumic to win.
Askara wanted Lumic to live, and so did the goddesses, it seemed.
“Mother Goddess, moon above,” Askara said that night, kneeling before his chamber window, staring at the skies above. The moon showed her face in the gentle way she did before the witching hour, when the fights began.
My son. What is it you ask me for this night?
“I ask nothing from my mother, only company. Do I burden you with my missives?” Askara stared boldly upon the moon, breath shuddering in his chest.
You are sweet, my child. You do not burden me. I merely have many cogs that turn in the machine that is Liaberos and worry of the fate of my sister’s vitalis. When to turn your cog is the question. Will you turn for me?
“Always, Mother.” Askara closed his eyes to bathe in the glow as it penetrated his lids, relishing the way her presence made his skin tingle, like the soft touch of the mother that had given her life for him, a mother he’d never have. Part of him wondered if his blood mother lay in the eternal beyond with the moon or sun, or if she had returned to this world to be born again.
Then continue to survive. Thrive for me and do what you must for the prince.
“He must be very special to you.” A smile tugged at the corners of Askara’s mouth.
Silence stretched, the pause drawing on, making Askara wonder if she’d turned her attention from him.
No. He’s no more special to me than any other. He is not a follower. He’s your key to escape. He’s your key to revenge upon your father.
That had Askara’s attention. In the brief fight he’d had with the omega, the snarky conversation and how bravely he’d held up to capture, much unlike any noble Askara had seen, he’d become infatuated. The omega could be the new holder of his sigil! Joy blossomed in Askara’s belly.
“Thank you, Mother!”
Do what Lumic asks of you. He understands far more than you.
“I do not understand what you ask of me, but I blindly follow, Mother. I will protect the omega and do my best to obey.” Askara could not contain his joy, and the soft rush of the wind and cool caress of the moonlight told him the goddess laughed. She did so often, calling him an innocent child, a silly boy and even more so, her favorite child for the night.
Askara was no child, but he did lack experience, had little encounters with others, especially not of those of the opposite sex. Lumic, an omega, tickled his senses and made parts of him wake that he’d be ashamed to admit.
Goodnight, my son. Remember my words and fight bravely. Protect and be protected.
Askara stood abruptly and turned. The goddess ending her talks with him often meant—
His bedroom door swung open, the wood slamming against the wall, frame rattling. “Why aren’t you in the dungeons?” Cilan stood there, staring Askara down with a furrowed brow. An enchanted amulet around his neck swung just outside of his stained linen shirt, the tarnish on it something that Mother Miree would never have allowed. Father Ruvaen never even wore the thing; kept it tucked away some place secret.
“Apologies, Cilan. I was not ordered to be down this night.”
“Who were you talking to?” He glanced around; dark circles under his eyes and bloodshot sclera told him that something had rankled the alpha.
“Mother Goddess.” Askara could not lie and was compelled to answer who held his sigil.
Cilan spat on the floor and grumbled. “Pray all you like. Won’t get you out of this place.”
“It wasn’t my intention to leave.” That was the truth. He hadn’t sought to, but the moon had said it would be so.
“That fucking bull of an omega just lost us eight dharni! I need something to come out and break us even.”
