Page 16 of Impaled by His Omega Prince (Reluctant Fae Princes #2)
Lumic
He woke in the late morning with a weight on his chest and the taste of bile on the back of his tongue. Groaning, he stood and made his way to the balconet and threw his wings out behind him. A few milling guards below gave him wary glances. His father’s messengers wouldn’t have had time to get back to Croatens, so he could be there by midafternoon at a good pace. Thinking better of it, he took a quilt from Askara’s bed and folded it over his arms before returning, steeling himself.
He dove from the second floor, letting his wings whirr as he descended on the soldiers. When they saluted him, he gave them permission to relax and requested rations. Some water and hard bread would last him until he needed, and they were more than happy to part with it. And it went down smooth.
With a grateful smile, he bid them farewell and took off, pointing himself in the direction of home.
The tiring journey ahead of him taxed him far more than the journey there. Aching wing joints had him under a heated morning sun, but strangely, the warmth eased the ache that a cold night had given him. And it didn’t burn him as sometimes the sun could, with his fair complexion. A gentle breeze even guided him, drawing him closer and closer home once more. There, undoubtedly, he’d receive the lecture to end all.
When he approached the castle walls and flew over, slowing his wings to land, he was greeted by alpha guards, flanking him as his magic flowed, letting them recognize him before even their eyes could take him in. They always regarded him with a sidelong glance, his wings an ill omen, he’d been told. Though he’d never felt bad about them. Anyone who thought ill of his wings wasn’t someone he wanted to be with.
Askara thought my wings were wonderful. Confident.
He shook the thought. A fleeting alpha who rode out a heat with him. A shitty alpha who didn’t stick around after.
But why did his heart ache? Why did he care? Even the moon told him that she could not find him, though he was alive.
“Prince Lumic Valsand of Croatens!” Pallosar’s voice rang out from the front steps as he landed and made his way in.
“‘Welcome home, my son! I missed you! Are you well?’” Lumic strode past the king and bunched his shoulders, wincing as his omega father seethed.
“You know very well I missed you. I am worried about you. You disappeared. You missed two sittings, and they’re still here, by the by. I had accommodations made for them! Where were you?” Pallosar halted when Lumic turned on his heel and glared.
Pallosar backed away, hands held up almost placatingly.
“Is that all you care about? Show me the alphas.”
“You need a bath first, you reek!” Pallosar chided as Lumic shuddered and turned to his father, throat clenching, eyes watering.
Whatever he saw made him back away, leaving Lumic deflated and broken.
“Lu. Please. Dear.” Pallosar stepped forward. “You can talk to me. You do know this, right?”
Lumic shook his head and fought a shaking breath. It wasn’t like him to cry, but it had been stressful. Recovering from his ordeal hadn’t gone smoothly. “Askara can’t be dead.”
“I’m sorry, but everyone in that castle fell to the sword. Oryn swears by it, as much as I wished otherwise. We’ve got Alluin in a panic and let me tell you, there’s hell on the way because we got missive that King Nemiah is on his way with his mate who only just recently gave birth—they’re very upset.” Pallosar’s gaze fell as his fingers brushed the worn quilt, brows furrowed. “What is this tatty thing?”
Before Pallosar could take the quilt, Lumic stepped back, holding the quilt tighter. “It’s…”
His omega father waited patiently, face relaxing from the confused anger into something more fatherly.
“It’s his quilt. Askara.” The words cracked coming from his throat.
“Oh, Lumic. I thought it was—sometimes when a person is held against their will, they attach to things they shouldn’t, to comfort themselves.” Pallosar reached out as if he were going to take the blanket away.
“I’m not tower-addled. He was different…and he saw me .” Lumic said the last part as a whisper. “He didn’t see…”
Lumic gestured up and down his chest, indicating his body, his horns. “This.”
Pallosar frowned and reached out, taking his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you as you are. You are a fitting image of Kershai, and many, many males found him beautiful.”
“But I am not alpha.” Lumic rubbed the back of his hand into his eyes and scoffed. “And it’s—I don’t know why I’m crying! We didn’t have enough time together for me to give the man my heart, but he saw my wings and thought they were beautiful. He praised me for being confident and forward.”
Pallosar wilted and took Lumic into a broad hug. “Shhh. I’m so sorry, Lu. I’ll send them away.”
Lumic sniffed as Pallosar tucked an errant lock of hair from his face and patted his cheek. “Go bathe and see the healer. I won’t be satisfied until you’ve got a clean bill of health.”
“Is this where I refuse because there’s no cure for a broken heart?” Lumic scoffed.
Without as much as a blink, Pallosar snorted. “I know my tastes, boy. Your broken heart laments for more than a good soul. He must have been a fantastic bedmate.”
Lumic groaned. “He was so good, Papa.”
“Alright. Off to your chambers.” Pallosar shooed him away. “Bathe. I’ll bring some citronelia wine up and we can lament the loss together…preferably away from your father’s ears, because I can tell you some truly sad stories about my conquests.”
Lumic snorted, oddly placated by the admission. “I’d like that very much, Father.”
They parted ways in the foyer, Lumic trudging to his chambers to bathe as told. Idly, he thought about going to the healer as instructed, but he found himself exhausted, only wanting to sleep and hide away from the world.
When Pallosar returned, waking him with a tsk of displeasure, he let the healer into his bedchambers. “I’ll see you in your parlor once you’re done.”
Lumic rose from his bed and threw on a shirt, shuffling up to meet their healer, an elderly omega with long white hair and filmy blue eyes. His dusk skin reminded Lumic of Askara in ways, but different. The contrast between the two made him think about Askara being moonborne.
“Prince Lumic,” he said by way of greeting, forcing him to sit back on his bed. For someone so thin and wiry, he had a strength to him that Lumic couldn’t ignore.
“Master Jori.” Lumic sulked as Jori grabbed for his ear and peered inside like the very act could let him see his brain ticking away.
“Your father says you’ve been stricken and trouble sleeping. You’ve been tetchy, sleeping a lot and distracted. Do I have it right?” He hummed under his breath and twisted Lumic’s ear with perfunctory touches. While not comfortable, it was gentle in its own way.
“You do. I was dehydrated, held captive, starved, sleep deprived, and sun deprived.” Lumic counted off the things he endured.
“And had your heart broken, I hear. When was your begging night, last?”
It’d been weeks at that point since the event, not that Lumic had paid much mind, rattling off the date. Saying it out loud made his skin prickle, and Jori hummed, not in his thinking way but his you know what I’m going to say and you’re going to be mad about it way. It reminded Lumic of the time he got winter fever and had to miss preservation festival.
“Mm-hmm…” Jori placed wisened fingers under Lumic’s jaw and looked in his mouth. “Up with the shirt, boy.”
Lumic pulled his loose linen shirt up and winced at Jori’s cold hand pressing into his belly with exploratory magic. “Well. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”
“Fuck.” Lumic shoved his shirt down and stared in cold horror at a wall. “I took my honeythistle and nightflower.”
“They’re excellent preventatives but not foolproof.” Jori turned and sat beside Lumic, folding his hands in his lap. “There are options.”
The word, the way he said it, options . Lumic swallowed so hard his throat clicked.
“Options that come with consequences. We could also send you away for a while…” Jori cleared his throat. “But I’ll need a few days to get the ingredients, and screechwasp honey is nasty stuff at the best of times.”
Lumic stifled a sob and shook his head. “I need… I need to think.”
“I understand.” Jori stood and bowed his head, shuffling away and toward the door. “But whatever you decide, do it for you, not for others. You were forced, and—”
“I wasn’t forced! I loved him. Love him.” Lumic had to believe he was still alive, Askara. He reached for the quilt he’d stashed in his bed and brought it to his face.
Jori paused and nodded before patting his shoulder and leaving. Under his breath, he said something that Lumic didn’t expect. “Pray things go your way.”
And so, he did. He made his way to his window, staring at the evening sky. “Mothers, either one of you…hear me…”