Page 78 of The King's Omega
“I’m sure we can find something. Where should they take him?”
I knew a place with no doors that was fairly soundproof. “To Vilkurn’s not-a-torture dungeon.”
Sorcha brightened. “Ah, one of young Vil’s playrooms? That’s an excellent idea.”
“One of?” I bristled. “How many dungeons does that man have?” No one would make eye contact, so I returned to pacing. “Right. I need to get there as well, but apparently I reek, and can’t sneak anywhere. I need to bathe. Sorcha, I could crawl into one of the laundry vats and use some of that gentle soap—” A bath sounded amazing.
“I’m not sure we have time.” Lorn’s face grew grim. “I’m surprised we haven’t heard the bells chime out Rigol’s death already.”
My heart clenched. He could not die. I hadn’t made him apologize enough for stealing my kitten. And he had to help beat Milian’s stupid army.
“Why not spread your scent all over the castle like before, lass?” Tarn pointed to the sheets on Sorcha’s bed. “Roll around on all the sheets and towels and let Sorcha’s nieces and the servants carry them everywhere.”
What was he talking about? “I wasn’t doing that before!”
Sorcha coughed this time. “Of course not, dear. But if you did decide to do that now…”
“Ugh.” I threw myself on Sorcha’s bed. “Bring me the sheets.” I spent the next ten minutes rubbing what was apparently an incredibly strong Omega odor all over every bit of clean laundry Sorcha brought in. We hid in the walls when she knocked on the door, telling the guards she needed her nieces to come and take the laundry to the east wing. She made some excuse about the scent, saying it was a new laundry soap. It sounded like the guards came back into her room and rummaged around again, but they didn’t find anything, of course.
Then Sorcha shooed the men away and let me take that all-too-necessary bath. “The girls will need time to get the sheets on, and then the guards will all be runnin’ to the east wing. We’ve got time.”
While I scrubbed at my skin, Sorcha oiled my curls. I found out that Mischief was hiding in the stables, where Sorcha’s lover, Richard, was caring for her.
“Sorcha, I want you to take the rest of the fancy rocks Vil gave me,” I whispered. “The extras, after the bribes.” I had to think of them as fancy rocks; if they were diamonds and such, even the thought of touching them made me nervous. She shook her head and I frowned. “Sorcha, your nieces will need money to escape if things go wrong. And… and you were kind to me.”
Her face crinkled as she smiled widely. “I was kind because you are, little miss. You may be the most selfless, sweet-natured girl I’ve ever met. I’d be proud to call you my queen.”
My heart skipped a beat. Proud to call me herqueen? I had finally gotten used to the idea of being an Omega—even if half of what that meant was still a mystery to me—but to think of sitting on a throne, everyone looking at me, expecting me to know how to do queen things, made me feel more than a little queasy. “You know we’ll probably all die before morning, right? I mean… I don’t think I’m some sort of miracle.”
She tapped my nose. “A heart as pure and open as yours is a miracle in itself. Don’t underestimate what the Goddess can do if you trust Her.” She cleared her throat. “Now, about your diamonds… I mean, rocks.” We both laughed nervously. “Isn’t there anyone else, little miss? Any family at all?”
I stopped scrubbing to think. “My friends at the Sow, the working girls. They never get enough to eat, and Madam made them buy their own dresses. Two of them were trying to save money to buy a cottage together someday. Give them the rocks.”
Sorcha wiped a tear away and nodded.
“I wish more people had been kind to you, little one. You have such a generous heart. Make me one promise, though: when the time comes, be generous with yourself. Give yourself what you need, even if that means you take more than you might have expected to, growing up like you did. You deserve all of it, and more.” She pressed a kiss to my curls as Tarn knocked, murmuring it was time to go.
“The troops are all still in town, Vali,” Sorcha confided as she helped me slip into a clean dress—one Lorn had made for me, pockets and all. I slipped one of the remaining jewels into a pocket, praying I wouldn’t need it. “Tell your men that, if they don’t know. The soldiers are dressed as townsfolk, and they’re waiting for a signal, for a plan.”
“If we send word of what to do, the safe word is Mischief,” I said. “That’s how you’ll know it’s really us telling the plan.”
Laughter rumbled, and I spun around. Lorn and Tarn were in the doorway, sporting a bunch of weapons they hadn’t had before. “What? Back at Verdan City, when we talked, Vilkurn said that would always be our safe word.”
“I’m sure he did. It’s still code word, Peaches, not safe word.”
Humph. I wasn’t sure what the difference was. “Anyway, Sorcha, Axe is the acting king right now.”
“Ah, yes,” Sorcha replied, handing me some soft slippers. “We all knew that. He’s the king’s brother and all.”
Lorn’s eyes bulged. “Who knew that?”
Sorcha patted him on the back. “It’s a good thing you’re handsome, lad. And that your wee girl has such a good head on her shoulders.” She winked at him and Tarn, who was laughing at his brother. “Servants are invisible, but we’re always listening. Don’t forget that.”
Servants are invisible.
“Wait!” My shout stopped everyone. “The red-haired maid, the one who was talking to Selene when I arrived with Milian—”
Sorcha’s laugh was as close to a cackle as any witch could make. “Don’t worry about that one. My Dorcas saw that little display when you got here, and sent the traitorous girl on an errand in the stables right after. My Richard took care of her.”
