Page 53 of The King's Omega
His eyes lit up. “You understand me?”
“Yes.”I managed a weak smile. “I speak little. Teach more?”
His lips twitched. “Horse?”
I didn’t understand until he kneeled and motioned for me to climb on his back. He reared up like a stallion, and I squeezed my knees around him, wishing he could run fast and far enough that we would both be miles from Turino when the worst happened.
And for the first time all month, I didn’t mean the war.
Axe
When I was a youth, I had a much younger stepbrother who had been weakened by an illness and couldn’t walk. Even then I had been tall and strong, so I’d made it my role to carry him around and make him smile, though his wasted legs pained him daily.
He had died when I was fifteen, but I still remembered the tricks to providing a most excellent pony back ride, and I used every one to carry my Omega far from the terrible farce that had taken place in the dungeon.
The other generals were still absent from the castle, and Rigol had apparently lost all sense again over his false Omega. Although it seemed she wasn’t as false as I had once thought. But something about her story grated like a splinter of glass in my mind. There was something wrong with all of it.
I told Rigol where we had found her, only a few miles from the walls of Turino, living in an abandoned barn. The news from the front was universally bad; Verdan had five times the troops we did, and access to some sort of catapult that we’d not faced before. What worried me most was that some of their troops had Mirrenese accents. Tarn was negotiating with King Karl and Queen Rynda of Mirren and my stomach twisted at the thought of his fate if they had secretly joined forces with Verdan.
My men had reported seeing a beautiful woman with golden hair lying injured outside an old barn. When they’d returned with Selene, I’d taken her into custody. Her sad tale had not impressed my men, and her attitude on the journey back was not one of a penitent prisoner of war.
She had been haughty and rude right up until the moment Rigol saw her in chains. But her scent had been consistent and strong, almost too strong. Unlike Vali’s sweet perfume, Selene’s made my gut queasy. Almost as queasy as her pitiful tale of woe.
Rigol had acted as if he’d believed her, though, and Vilkurn’s single missive to the castle had matched what she’d said of Milian’s hunt for Omegas. But there were many holes in her story.
Did Selene have some sort of witchcraft? Was that one of an Omega’s gifts, to confound and confuse her mate? There was so much wrong with his decision to take her back so easily, believing her. I’d heard mate bonds were powerful things, and supposedly the one between an Alpha and an Omega was even stronger.
Could it be that simple? Would marking her as his mate and the herbs wearing off cause her scent to revert?
I resolved to read the book Tarn had taken from the scholar to see what it said about mate bonds, and how they strengthened. Unfortunately, reading was not my strongest skill. Where were Lorn and Vilkurn when I needed them? I had no one to help me untangle the threads of the mess Rigol had become ensnared in again.
His private argument had been sound. As she was an Omega and his mate, he needed to keep Selene close, no matter what. Her death meant his, and if she was a spy, there was no better place than near at hand, so we could all watch her.
But if she was the prophesied King’s Omega, he needed to be a true mate to her, so she would share whatever mystical gifts she had. Her returning now, so close to the war’s beginning—although there had been heavy skirmishes in the north already—seemed like a gift from the Goddess.
Or a coincidence. And there were very few genuine coincidences in wartime.
I let Vali slip off my back and run to Sorcha, who embraced her, listening to the story of what had happened with the king and Selene. Sorcha made all the appropriate noises and sent her niece for cake. “Bitter news calls for sweet.” Vali left to wash her face.
“Bitter news?” I knew why I found it bitter, but wasn’t sure why Vali had been so distraught.
Sorcha explained. “Ah, young Rigol’s been courting the lass whilst you were away. Teaching her the signs and book reading. Feeding her up and that wee kitten, too.”
“Courting her? That asshole?”I couldn’t keep my jaw from dropping. Sorcha burst into gales of laughter. “He was cruel to her.”
“Well, that lass has more kindness in her sweet self than the rest of the castle put together. For all her faults, holding a grudge isn’t one of them.”
“She has faults?”
That set her laughing again. “She does indeed. You’ll find your sheets are pink and blue, sweet Asher. Don’t complain. Your perfect Vali has dropped five pounds of powdered dyes into the laundry in two weeks. Count yourself lucky your knickers didn’t turn daffodil yellow like Vilkurn’s.”
I couldn’t keep from smiling, but Sorcha beckoned me close and began signing, her hands next to her chest.
“What will happen to the lass now? She’ll be upset with Rigol acting the fool once again. If that woman he’s mated is some mythical King’s Omega, I’m the Princess of Fairyland. You’ll take care of our sweet girl, won’t you?”Sorcha glared at me.“And by take care, I mean treat her right. She’s a woman, and if my grandma’s stories are correct, she’s an Omega with instincts and needs. See to them.”
“I will.”I tried not to blush.“If she’ll have me.”
“Good. You can sense she’s above you then. Every man should know that when he’s wooing a girl. No matter if he’s with a milkmaid or a duchess, every man mates above his station.”
