Page 47 of The King's Omega
“Oh, no!” She pressed a palm to her mouth. “You don’t have to do that. I can probably borrow one of Lorn’s special dresses… oh, forget I said that. His would be far too long on me.”
“I can’t. Lorn has dresses?” An uncontrollable laugh spiraled up from deep in my belly. “Special dresses? My general Lorn? Tarn’s twin?”
She reached over and slapped my forearm, then rubbed the spot she’d smacked. I blinked at the familiarity, trying to ignore the way her hand had felt on my skin. Warm and soft.
“Don’t make fun. Everybody has different things they like. So Lorn likes to wear a pretty frock occasionally. He could do worse things.”
And he had, I wanted to say, thinking of the missions he’d gone on as my diplomat. But I would have taken a knife in my gut rather than stop her easy prattle. She was talking to me like we were friends. “So, Lorn enjoys dressing up. What do you like?”
Her face flushed red, and I corrected her unspoken assumption. “No, not like that. What are your hobbies? Your favorite things? Who are your friends?”
“Oh.” She sat back down, chewing at her lower lip as she considered the question. “Well, at the Sow I had little to like. I cleaned, and rolled my scent on things for Selene, and tried not to get beaten too often. Some of the girls were very nice and taught me things.”
I choked, and she narrowed her eyes. “For instance, Nell taught me how to fight, in case someone attacked me. I could show you.” I shook my head, and she resumed. “But I like reading now. And I like my kitten.” She scowled at me and made kissing noises toward Mischief, who was curled near the fire. “I like the food here at the castle, especially the desserts. And I like your generals, they’re all very kind, and Axe is so sweet.” I tried not to swallow my tongue as she referred to my Master Spy and Torturer, Executioner, Thief and Diplomat as kind. “… and then Axe taught me a song on the harp before he left.”
“He did?” I was shocked to the core. I was the only one who knew about Axe’s music, or I had been.
By the Goddess, Tarn was right. This girl really did mean something to my brother. And he meant something to her.
Guilt twisted in my gut. “You like Axe, don’t you? In the way of men and women.”
She let out a disconsolate sigh. “Yes, I do. I like him in every way. He’s so thoughtful, and interesting. He’s talented, and strong, and—”
“It doesn’t bother you that he can’t speak?”
“Why would it? I only wish I knew his sign language.”
“Would you like to learn? I can teach you that as well as reading. I learned it alongside him after he took his injury.”
She stared, eyes round as saucers. “R-really?” I nodded, and she flew across the room, her slender arms wrapping around me tightly. “Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome,” I grumbled into her hair, fighting to keep my own arms from crushing her. Steeling myself, I pushed her away and held up one hand. “This is the sign for food.”
Vali
Ino longer hated the king. Even though he still had Mischief—he said it was safer in his rooms for a mischievous thing like her—I spent enough time with them each day that it didn’t bother me as much.
Other things bothered me more. I had made a complete ninny of myself going on about my budding breasts to the king, of all people. But I didn’t have anyone to talk to about such things now. I had left behind the young girls from the Sow, the generals were all away, and Sorcha had laughed, saying they were still mosquito bites as far as she could tell.
Strangely, the king had become something of a friend. Under his tutelage, I could now read some sentences on my own and I had learned many signs. Sorcha knew them, too, and she taught me lots more. Useful ones for working in the castle, and naughty ones she said the king would have no business teaching me, but that every girl should know.
I was amazed at how many of the small gestures the guards and servants had been making were actually signs. Once I knew them, I realized the people who lived in the castle were like a large family.
And they were not happy with Daddy Rigol’s behavior for the past few months. “He’s got the potential to be a great king,” Sorcha said as she stirred a vat of clothes with her giant wooden paddle. She didn’t allow me to do that anymore, saying that they were running out of white fabric. I didn’t know what to make of that. “He’s smarter than the last two kings we had combined, he’s got the best advisors, and the royals from Mirren and Starlak like him just fine.” She winked. “At least their ladies do, if you know what I mean.”
I tried to smile, but the idea of other ladies liking King Rigol left my stomach feeling queasy.
“Then what’s the problem?” I asked, not convinced Rigol had the goods to be an epic leader or anything. His lessons had gone a long way in earning my forgiveness—though I might never tell him that—but I still couldn’t block out that horrible moment in his bedroom. Would a decent king do something like that?
“He’s an Alpha,” she said, “raised by Betas and men weaker than him. He has his generals, sure, but they’re all of an age. No one taught him how to deal with his instincts. We have forgotten so much since the plagues.” Her gaze was a little too sharp. “And a lot of what he does is instinctual, little miss. Young Vilkurn told me what you are, an Omega.”
“That’s what they say. But I’m not sure I am one. Or even what that really means.” No one seemed to know, although everyone had ideas, many of them utterly mad. Vilkurn had read me a few passages of that book, but I wasn’t sure it was true. It all sounded so far-fetched.
“Well, my grandma used to tell me stories of the ancient Alphas and Omegas. They were the true fairytales, the Beauties and their Beasts. When we lost our Omegas, Rimholt lost part of its soul. The Alphas are still aggressive but have nothing to fight for other than land and traditions. When they had Omegas, the strength of the Goddess filled them. Ten Alphas could overcome a hundred lesser soldiers.”
This sounded like what Rigol believed. “How?”
“The Omegas had gifts. Magical ones, Grandma said. When an Omega took an Alpha for a mate, she shared those gifts with him… or with them.”
