Page 36 of The King's Omega
An incandescent rage all but blinded me. “You mean until I decide to let you fuck me.”
His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “Just so.”
I stormed to the door, my heart breaking at leaving the only creature I had loved, the only one who had loved me, in the hands of a monster. “You are a vile man and a vile king,” I spat. “You deserve Selene.”
Something flashed in his eyes: shock, anger, or shame. His lips parted, but I didn’t stay to hear any more of his poison.
I held my tears until I was out the door.
Axe
Ihad never considered treason until this day, never once contemplated using my strength against my king.
But my little flower’s sobbing was audible through Rigol’s door, and I honestly deliberated bursting in to provide the beating he so richly deserved. “Did he hurt her?”
Vilkurn shook his head and indicated I should take the girl away. “I’ll deal with Rigol.”
“H-he has my kitten,” Vali wept.
Vilkurn’s eyes widened, mirroring my own confusion and disbelief. The Rigol we knew was just and fair. He remembered the birthdays of most of the castle staff and had his steward send them gifts every year. He insisted on raising the wages of his troops, selling a jeweled scepter and four of his mother’s enameled brooches for the funds, instead of raising taxes. He was better than this.
What was he thinking? “I’ll go see about that,” Vilkurn said softly, and knocked on the king’s door.
I gathered Vali up and carried her swiftly to my rooms, barring the door behind us. She never stopped crying, and I thought my heart would break. She didn’t speak my gesture language, but I lifted her tear-swollen face, pressed a finger to her lips, moved it outward, and gestured toward the king’s rooms.
“Y-you want me to tell you what he s-said?” she asked.
I nodded.
Her eyes flashed with righteous fire. “He s-said I had to mate with him. That I didn’t love Rimholt, and he did, and that he wouldn’t let me have Mischief until I f-fucked him.”
I counted my breaths, the red haze of berserker rage threatening my vision.
“Th-then he said I might as well stop pretending I w-was innocent. That I let you and Lorn and Vilkurn do… things to me, so I was just acting.” Her expression went stony. “You let him watch me with Vilkurn. You knew I thought it was Lorn! I would never let the king see me. I hate him. I t-trusted you.”
She curled into a ball, and my rage melted away. She was right; I had been a party, however unwilling, to that deception. Shame battered at me. I signed, “I’m sorry,” over and over, but she didn’t see me and couldn’t understand even if she had.
I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, anyway. I had not given her a choice and should never have agreed to Vilkurn’s plan.
He was certain that witnessing Vali’s sexual innocence would make Rigol desire her. Though he hadn’t meant for things to go so far, Vilkurn had convinced me it would be worth the risk of discovery to ensnare Rigol’s heart. We expected her open, sweet nature would drive Rigol to woo her, to court her as we all had.
Instead, it had driven him to madness and cruelty.
Her weeping was a sharp blade cutting into my very soul. How to comfort her? How to make some restitution for the terrible situation I had helped design?
I steeled myself, reaching into the cabinet where I kept my closest secrets, and pulled out my harp.
When I’d lost my voice, Rigol had found a teacher of sign language who taught first me and then my brothers. The man had been a traveling bard, and in the evenings, he had played his small harp and offered to give me lessons. Learning to play had been the only light in the darkness for many months, and I had practiced secretly in my rooms, deep into the night.
I plucked a string now, and Vali looked up, her sobs subsiding. “Y-you can play the harp?” she marveled, as I ran through a simple scale.
I plucked out a melody, a lullaby that I’d learned early on, only months after losing my voice.
“Of course, you can,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on my moving fingers. “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”
I hit the wrong string and stopped, shaking my head. I pointed to my axe and to myself. I was a killer, nothing more. Then I pressed a hand to my heart and turned my face away to show my shame. She needed to understand I was nothing. A killer, and a deceiver. She deserved more.
“You’re ashamed.”
