Page 68 of The King's Omega
“I know. My lady needs her friends freed. The King’s Omegas, all of them. They can take the route we’d planned for you and my lady.”
“You’re going to meet her in Rimholt.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ll have to move fast to clear out the Omegas, they’re putting extra guards on the Suite at nightfall.”
“Can you make it work?” He nodded once, his dark hood hiding his expression, and handed me a saddlebag with provisions for the ride home. I had to get there before Milian just in case Selene had indeed poisoned Rigol. I knew more about poisons than any herbalist, and there might be time for me to brew an antidote if one existed.
I crossed to the horse, stepping over the stable master who lay unconscious on the hay, a spilled bottle of whiskey next to him, his pants undone. “Nice touch. He’ll never work in the king’s palace again.”
“He hurts young boys,” my spy replied. “Deserves it.”
“If something happens, and Milian returns with my lady, you have orders to do whatever you must to secure her rescue. Warlord Wulfram of Starlak owes me a life debt. I grant it to you now. Call on him, if necessary.”
He swallowed hard. “You already paid me for this job. Now you offer me a life debt, from the high Warlord of all Starlak? My price for a favor would never be that steep. It’s too much.”
“Not for Vali. She is more to me than you can know. She is also my heir; I documented it in Turino.” I mounted the gelding, ignoring his dropped jaw. I smiled. At least one spy in Verdan knew how succession worked in Rimholt. “If Milian falls, I’ll send word it’s safe for the Omegas to come to Rimholt.”
He blinked, his expression carefully blank once more. “What word will you send?”
I smiled. “Mischief.”
Vali
As we thundered across Verdan, I hung my head out of the small window in the carriage I shared with two servants who were undoubtedly spying for the king. The odor inside the small compartment threatened to make me sick.
The sights outside were almost as bad. The palace in Verdan City had been ridiculously opulent, but the residents of the towns we passed through were starving, sick, and beaten down. Malnourished children begged along roadsides, too weak to do more. I had seen nothing comparable in Rimholt. We had plenty of impoverished people, but not like this. Our fields were dotted with fat sheep and healthy cattle; these boasted the occasional starved horse, or stunted corn and wheat.
Obviously Milian overtaxed his citizens, and they hated him for it. Not one bothered to wave a greeting, and a few of the braver men spat to the side as we passed. When we reached the Verdanian army encampment, Milian dismounted and made a rousing speech about soldiers being the backbone of Verdan, then ordered them to follow his entourage to Turino to secure what would soon be his newest fiefdom.
As instructed, I stepped from the carriage, the crown he’d given me—an ugly thing, covered with blood-red rubies and sharp twists of gold that sliced my fingers when I touched it the wrong way—fixed atop my head. I waved and smiled as he introduced the King’s Omega, his new queen, Theodora ta Milian.
What a stupid name.
The soldiers all cheered. We stopped only long enough to use the privies and grab a bite of food. Then it was back into the terrible closed-in carriage. We crossed the border and rode through a strangely quiet region where Rigol’s troops should have been. But no one was there now, and the fires had burned down to ash. The only signs that an army had even existed were the prints of feet and hooves in the dusty soil and the stripped vegetation.
They were at the castle, I assumed. I prayed they hadn’t all deserted or been captured… or worse.
The trip to Turino should have taken close to a week, but Milian was intent on covering it in four days. The only good thing about that was we rested so rarely, there wasn’t time for Milian to try anything physical with me. We all stunk to the skies, were grimy with dust, and felt too tired to do anything but sleep when we could.
On the morning of the fifth day, the towers of the castle in Turino became visible. The streets of the city were silent and abandoned, a few stray dogs barking as we passed, but no people. The castle gate was open, though, and Selene stood with arms outstretched. Patches of rubbed-raw skin marred her face, and her lips were too red. Even her hair was limp and coarse. Had she been ill? Had they kept her in the dungeons?
Next to her stood the red-haired maid who had been so cheeky when I’d first arrived at the castle, the girl who knew all the gossip. I watched through the window as she curtsied alongside Selene, speaking to King Milian as if she knew him.
I had found Vilkurn’s traitor in Turino, Milian’s embedded spy.
Milian rode alongside the carriage and spoke to the servants. “Fix my bride’s hair and dress, ladies. I want her looking like a queen when these cretins see her. I want them to understand what a jewel they let slip from their fingers.”
In seconds, the servants had opened the small boxes and found cloths, lip tints, a hairbrush, and all sorts of small pencils and brushes. I kept my eyes squeezed shut while they worked.
I didn’t have a mirror, but the smile on Milian’s face when he reached into the carriage to pull me out told me enough. I blinked in the harsh sunlight, then peered around the courtyard. There had to be a hundred people there: noblemen and women I recognized from the castle, some servants—but not Sorcha—and a few tradespeople from the city. Surrounding them were lines of Verdanian soldiers, their weapons in hand.
Standing in the center of it all were three bound men: Axe, Lorn, and Tarn. Their hands were tied behind their backs, their mouths stuffed with filthy cloths, and their feet chained. All three had been beaten and tortured. Trails of dried blood ran from Axe’s hairline, and Lorn had two blackened eyes and a swollen jaw. Tarn was the worst off; I stifled a sob when I saw his mangled face.
Rigol was nowhere to be seen. It was painfully obvious this was not a peaceful visit to discuss terms. This was a coup.
Milian held my hand up in his. “Please welcome my queen, Theodora ta Milian, the King’s Omega,” he announced loudly.
“Your queen!?” Selene screeched.
Milian frowned. “Yes. A true Omega, as in the legends.” He raised his voice so everyone could hear. “Stolen from me at birth. She escaped your weak king and came to me. We were wed a few nights ago. I hear you are newly mated as well, Queen Selene?”
