Page 9 of Ruined By His Alpha King
Seidrik
Dinner in Liaberos with his father had always been a miserable affair.
The food would be bland, and despite this, everyone would proclaim it the best they ever had. Goddesses forbid someone use a spice or salt for once. So, when seated at the Croatens’ castle dining table, he glanced around at a less grandiose affair. A roast timber goose sat at the center, surrounded by dishes of varying colors, well-seasoned and richly scented. His mouth watered, and he knew immediately why Stamel, Lumic, and Kershai were such large males. Even Ingred, as thin as he was, had height and strength behind his slim figure.
Before they ate in Liaberos, his father had a priest recite a blessing, but an awkward gesture from Askara of praise and a mutteredthank you for this bounty, sufficed. And then they portioned out their own food and ate. Nobody waited for Pallosar to eat first or serve himself. Seidrik froze in uncertainty.
“We’re informal, dear. Unless we’re entertaining, we eat casually.” Pallosar waved a fork at him.
“But… Am I not…” Seidrik stared at his empty plate.
“You’re family, now. I’m not putting in any extra effort for you. Now shoo. Eat, or would you rather I give you a lecture, wag my fork, and send you to bed hungry because I stubbed my toe last fourthday and just now thought to make it someone else’s problem?” Pallosar glared at him, and Seidrik’s cheeks burned with the effort it took not to laugh.
“Laugh, child. Nobody is tattling back to Alluin.” Kershai snorted.
Stamel nudged Seidrik in his side. “I might.”
Seidrik couldn’t help the fierce burn that came over his cheeks, so he distracted himself by plating food from every tureen that passed, dead set on eatingsomethingthat tasted good.
Everyone tucked in, including a little boy at the end of the table with a shock of red—Tyran.
Stamel let an attendant feed his child, careful to keep his clothes clean until dessert came and he excused himself with the boy, taking a few bites of cake hurriedly before toddling up to him. “Come, little one. We get a bath and bedtime.”
Seidrik sighed in relief as the two left and ended the night with an apéritif while they lounged in their family quarters. A little nip of alcohol did him good, a strong tallroot distillate that burned with bitter, rich, sweet notes all the way down.
They talked of normal things, of family events to come, about their little one. Askara was as innocent to ill fortune as anyone had a right to be and smiled so easily. Part of Seidrik wished it had been him. It hurt to watch, so he excused himself to wash up and go to bed.
When he entered his room, the first thing he noticed was that his trunk lid had been left ajar. The socks that he’d carefully twisted about his vials lay half unraveled across the opposite edge of the neat row of folded clothes.No. No. No!Seidrik ran to it and pawed at the sock, finding it strangely heavy, a dozen vials stuffed inside of it. “What the…”
When he tipped the contents onto the clothes of his case, a slew of nightflower tincture and honeythistle water lay out for all to see. “By the goddess…”
A shadow darkened his doorway. “Hey.”
Seidrik turned, his heart pounding. “What is this?”
Stamel, who stood there with an unreadable expression, shrugged. “Medicine. How should I know?”
“Well, it was obvious you that put it there.” Seidrik stared at the vials. He’d never had so much at a time before. It would last him months.
“I did. I went to the healer’s quarters and asked Jori for it.” Stamel strode across Seidrik’s room and settled into a chair.
“And he didn’t question?” Seidrik opened one vial then another, taking a sip of each. The tincture burned, and the water warmed his tongue, but it settled in him easily.
“No. He probably thinks I have a paramour to provide for, or one of Askara’s protected omegas. Though, do yourself a favor and do take a full dose. I can get as much of it as I please. I’ll be bringing a case of it back with us after I visit the merchant’s guild.” Stamel lounged, spreading his legs wide, as if he needed to own every inch of open space he could.
Seidrik did so, relishing the luxury of a full dose for once. “Thank you.”
Stamel waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me just yet. The goddess has instructed me to punish you.”
Seidrik’s blood ran cold. The bitter taste on his lips of nightflower still lingered. “It’s poison…isn’t it?”
“No.” Stamel gestured for Seidrik to come over. “I have something I wish to give you, instead. Perhaps we can call it a trade. I will take something precious from you, and in return give you something.”
The ominous tone hung in the air, and despite the warm evening, a chill went through him, raising the hairs along his arms. “As the goddess commands…”
Like a sugarmoth to lantern glass, Seidrik drew himself inexorably toward Stamel, entering the field of his shine. The draw of him was so incredibly bright,and all he could think of was hours ago when those large hands slipped into his trousers and brought him off like magic. Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled free of his lips. “I liked it. Earlier. You’re very good atit.”
Stamel shrugged. “How would you know? When stranded in a desert, you can convince a man that anything is vitalis. Do you trust me?”
