Page 22 of The King's Omega
“Tell Vilkurn,” I called to Axe. “They’re in the walls.” Then I slipped behind the tapestry, crouching low as I moved as fast as I could through the dark passage.
Vali
Something tickled my hair, and I grimaced, hoping it wasn’t alive. After hours of navigating what must be secret tunnels throughout the castle, I was too exhausted to even lift my hand to check. If I never saw another rat or spider, it would be too soon.
It was probably a spider; I was lying on the floor of a tunnel, after all. This tunnel had seemed less dusty, though, and a better place to rest than one with small piles of desiccated bones and thick cobwebs.
I blew on Mischief’s ears, hoping she would perk up, scamper to my matted, tangled curls, and attack whatever was crawling around. To my dismay, she just lay listlessly on my palm. “We’re both in need of a good meal and a good sleep,” I agreed. “When I find my way out of this stupid tunnel, I’ll take care of those things. The kitchens must be near here. I smelled food two turnings ago.”
I heaved myself back to my feet and checked the torn strips of bedding I’d used to bandage my legs after Selene had attacked me.
It had shocked me when, shortly after Axe deposited me in my chambers, a rumpled, red-faced Selene had stormed across the room with a desperate gleam in her eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” she’d hissed. “He knows. I need more scent!”
A white satin gown barely covered her nakedness, and she’d reeked of sex… and King Rigol. She’d recoiled when she saw me, or smelled me more like. I’d probably looked a bit well-used myself at that point, having just returned from Vilkurn’s definitely-not-a-torture dungeon. My face had turned bright red when she’d reached down to my thighs and… well, thinking about where she’d put her hands before rubbing them all over her own chest and neck was not a memory I needed.
She’d scratched my inner thighs with her nails when she’d finished, laughing at the blood that spilled—she’d gone too deep, and blood gushed from the cuts.
“Why are you doing this?” I’d stammered.
She’d regarded me as if I were the world’s biggest idiot. “You don’t even know what you are, do you? By the Goddess, the gift was wasted on you.” Then she’d leaned close and murmured, “Don’t worry, Novalia. I won’t let you molder in this backwater country, wasted on a weakling like Rigol. A better king will know how to use you and will reward me well.”
She thought I was stupid, but it hadn’t taken me long to put two and two together. Selene was some sort of spy here to trap King Rigol.
My friends at the Sow had laughed about our king’s search for an extinct Omega. Not that any of us knew what that was, precisely. Madam had said once that I had an Omega’s scent, even though I was obviously not one with my non-existent curves and dark hair and eyes. Selene, on the other hand, looked the very picture of the famed Omegas of old, according to Madam.
Selene had appeared from nowhere only days after the rumors of an Omega in Turino swept through the capital. But instead of presenting Selene to the monarch, Madam had used her to lure as many customers to the brothel as possible.
I’d heard the king was brave and just, but he obviously was as easily led by a nice pair of tits as any stableboy.
Selene had returned to the room an hour later, eyes wide and skin flushed. “Where are you, little rat?” she’d rasped, searching for me. I’d crawled under the bed, and she hadn’t seen me in the shadowed corner. I stayed silent. “It’s time to go home before they take us both back to the dungeons.”
She’d been in the dungeons, too? If Vilkurn had touched her the way he had me, I wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t run straight there. But the thought of him stroking her that way made my insides boil.
“Where are you, you little slut? I’m not going back without you.”
Someone in the hall had shouted, and she quietly cursed. “I’ll be back for you.” She slipped into the privy and vanished as if by magic.
I had to warn the king that she had escaped—not for his sake, but for Rimholt’s. So, I’d ripped strips off a bedsheet to bandage my legs and banged on the door. But the guards outside my room wouldn’t listen and had forced me back inside.
I was powerless to prevent the king from mating her—not that he’d have welcomed my interference anyway—but if escape was possible, I could tell Axe or one of the generals that she was a spy.
That’s when my clever little Mischief had wandered behind the tapestry in the privy and discovered the narrow opening that led to the secret passageways in the palace. I’d followed her at first, then branched off so I wouldn’t run into her. I’d gone slowly for a while but started sprinting when I heard footsteps that might have been Selene behind me. And I’d gotten exceedingly far from where I’d started.
Or so I thought. I’d raced down two flights of stairs, and then almost killed myself when I smacked face-first into a ladder, nearly plummeting through a hole. But down was the right direction, anyway. Kitchens were always on the lowest level, and my primary goal was to find food, then one of the generals, and then a bed that wasn’t already occupied.
I sent up a prayer to the Goddess, seeking her aid but letting Her know that last bit was negotiable. Somehow, I was sure She’d heard me. Desperate prayers got answered faster, right? I truly believed in Her intervention. After all, when the terrible men at the Sow had tried to rut with me, She’d sealed my womb, which was a legitimate miracle, no matter what Madam had said.
I stumbled a few steps farther and warm air wafted across my skin. A quick grope along the wall led me to a cunningly hidden entry into a room with a roaring fire; a giant, empty bed; and a table laden with grapes, white cheese, bread, and a goblet of what might have been wine.
I slipped through the door and fell upon the feast, devouring every crumb. The fire was warm, and Mischief curled up on a scrap of rug nearby. Rubbing my tight stomach, I climbed up the mountain of bedding and curled up as well on top of a downy quilt.
My head spun from the long day, the blood loss, and possibly from the lovely torture at Axe and Vilkurn’s hands. How had someone like me attracted two men like that? I was nobody, just a girl from a brothel.
A dark thought surfaced: Iwasjust a girl from a brothel. A slut, Selene had called me. Was I? Was that why they hadn’t minded sharing me? I could just be a plaything to them both. Vilkurn had mentioned his games.
Perhaps they were toying with me, although I supposed it didn’t matter. I knew what I was, who I was, and I didn’t have ideas above my station. When this was all over, I’d be back in The Rutting Sow or someplace like it, doing scut work or cooking. I needed to remember that.
That reality didn’t mean I shouldn’t try to warn the men about Selene. No matter how unimportant I was, I was still a citizen of Rimholt. I’d just close my eyes for a few seconds, and then go in search of Axe or Lorn or someone. Not the monarch, though. He was an ass and would never listen to me. If I never saw him again, it would be too soon. I fell asleep and dreamed.
