Page 47 of Impaled By His Omega Prince
Lumic
Wake, child.
Lumic yawned and rolled to his side, engaging in a sort of wormlike crawl before managing to slump himself into an upright position. “Me or our little one?”
They are already awake. I wish to speak with you. Let Askara sleep.
Lumic intended on letting him sleep, anyway, but it was nice she thought of it. “Trousers are a little difficult without waking him. Would it offend you terribly?”
Bare, you come into this world and bare, you shall leave it. In between, it matters not. Rise, my Askara’s flame.
The flame jabs had grown a little stale, but the affectation was appreciated. It meant the goddess still held him in her favor.
“As you wish, Mother Goddess.” Lumic rose and tugged at his undergarments politely before reaching for his bedside robe and slippers. They barely fit, his feet swollen and aching, but it kept the cold stone off them.
It is time for you to bless the font.
As she said it, a ripple of tense pain flowed over his belly, the beginning of a practice quickening. The spasms before real labor began. “I see.”
Lumic took a shaking breath and stared out his bedroom window to see the bright, full face of her majesty. She was truly beautiful, in a way that Lumic could appreciate more.
You’ve little time, my candle’s flame. Your wick burns short.
Lumic tightened the tie of his robe and glanced away from the moon and to Askara, who lay curled so sweetly amid his blankets, his lips a beautiful, parted, plump canvas that Lumic wanted to paint with his own tongue. The alpha was his wholeworld, for the moment. Soon, his world would open to invite a third in their little one.
Stealing away from his lover, he exited his bedroom and out of his hall, startling a dozing guard into jumping to attention. “At ease. Wake Fathers and send for the healers, would you? There’s plenty time yet.”
Lumic offered a sweet smile and tarried down the master staircase, the sweeping curve of it leading him into the main hall that he traversed to the baths and into the prayer room, where salusis would flow.
Against the far wall of the room, the one shared with the baths, he drew himself to the altar. A simple fountain, barren and dry, sat waiting for Lumic to turn the spigot, letting water flow to fill the chambers and pool below until it filled the great reserve, letting a counterweight shut it off.
Moonlight shone perfectly through the windows that had been restored. The face of his mother looked down upon him.Let it flow.
Lumic turned the spigot and let the rich spring water trickle into the first bowl, overflowing into the second, then third, each progressively bigger. He stared into the third bowl as the first splashes of water came down, catching pure moonlight in its stream. “They did well on it.” Lumic resisted the urge to touch the water.
Step into the reservoir.
Lumic winced his way through a light contraction, the pain knotting in his belly, but ultimately listened to his mother, slid free of his slippers, and stepped over the sculpted lip of the reservoir and stood in the sealed mosaic bottom, inlaid with polished cabochons of moon opals in a pretty swirling pattern. The goddess had approved of them but not asked for them. Lumic was convinced she’d have been content with a tap andbucket, but putting forth more effort seemed the right thing to do.
Approach the bowl.
Lumic did so, shuffling one step at a time to the bowl, bare feet appreciating the feel of the coolness.
Dip your hands.
Lumic did so, extending his hands to slide into the water, the final bowl not yet full, not ready to overflow and fill the reservoir.
It was warm, not enough to bathe in, but like the sun had shone on still water. The ache in his hands and tingling in his fingertips that had plagued him half his pregnancy went away almost immediately. He sighed in relief as the pressure in his belly knotted up further, and he hissed through his teeth just in time to feel uncomfortable wetness flood his undergarments and drip down his thighs.
It is as it should happen. Do not fret.
Lumic grabbed for the edge of the bowl to keep himself steady as the first volley of water spilled from the fluted lip of the basin into the floor reservoir.
Like Askara, how his blood and very essence was vitalis, touching the surface of water with prayer creating more, Lumic’s waters spread pearlescent silvery magic through the water, spilling and spreading like frost on a morning window.
Pray.
“Mother Goddess, moon above. Holy is your glow. I give myself to you and take your son as my own, and from our union, give you, our fruit. May the line of Croatens be blessed with the moonborne. May our offerings please you and may our service be just.” Lumic rested his weight against the lower basin and rocked his hips, equalizing the pain and pressure as water pooled silvery and plentiful about his feet.
