Page 12 of Ruined by His Alpha King (Reluctant Fae Princes #3)

Seidrik

Their last day in Croatens was one that weighed heavily upon him. He’d spent a few weeks in the kingdom under the guise of military training exercises and seeing to the successful re-homing of the omegas he’d brought.

Seidrik left the castle early that morning. Kimbel, Stamel’s beta son, accompanied him with an imperious air about him. “I assume if I’m no longer to be aid to Lumic for Father, that I’ll need to align myself with you.”

Big words for a child. Seidrik eyed the young male, his hair a shock of red much like Stamel’s, but his eyes bore a darkness to them, pupil and iris nearly indistinguishable.

He’d been told the boy was a beta, but he had alpha mannerisms. Some alphas never manifested, and it appeared the boy was just that. Or the boy hid secrets like he did.

“Your orders are whatever you and your father decide.” Seidrik held his gaze steady as they rode in a carriage toward the retrofitted building.

He’d miss Morda, the omega he’d bonded with the most on the ride over. The flame color of his hair and eyes made him seem almost of the sun itself, so orange and bright. How anyone could think him less for it, Seidrik didn’t understand.

Morda’s story had been a sad one, married off by his family in a land dispute to a beta who had annulled their union after they had a stillborn child. Beta and omega unions were difficult, not meant to prosper.

Morda wanted happiness, to not be a breeding sow, to pursue his interests, much like Seidrik had.

When he reached the group home, he found Morda quite easily, working in the gardens with a few children running about. His face stretched into a great smile. “Seidrik!”

Kimbel ran after him as Seidrik dropped all decorum to give the omega a long hug. “How are you?”

“Healing. My bleeding has stopped, and my cycle returned. The physicians here are so much more knowledgeable.” Morda had a genuine smile slashed across his face that softened as he whispered, “And they were able to discover the source of my problem.”

“Oh?” Seidrik listened. A stillborn child wasn’t unheard of, but certainly a rarity. The shame was too often placed on the bearer for it.

“Apparently, the age of my husband could have been a contributing factor. Poor seed.” Morda beamed. The loss of a child had been hard on him, but a blessing in a strange way. He’d not wanted to be married to the male in the first place. And Seidrik wasn’t sure Morda wanted children at all.

“Would this mean you desire to find a compatible partner? Would you see children in your future?” Seidrik cleared his throat, trying to ask in a polite manner.

“I think I might have. One of the guardsmen who walks the perimeter is a widower. Quite young, too. We’ve had luncheon a few times and…” Morda’s cheeks flamed as he glanced around, whispering to Seidrik. “We may have snuck off after his duties to kiss a little.”

“I cannot say I’m happy that the guardsmen are fraternizing, but as long as you’re happy.” Seidrik clasped his hands. “Do ask your beau to go to Askara and make arrangements so there’s no shock. I’ll pass a good word along.” Seidrik patted Morda’s shoulder as he bounced on his toes.

“Please do not get him in trouble. I have to admit, I might have been the one doing the active pursuing. He did resist, at first.” Morda bit his lip and smiled .

“That is amazing to hear. And how is everyone else doing?”

“All of us are fine. Thank you, again, for comforting us on the ride over. It meant a lot.” Morda gave Seidrik a long hug.

“I’m glad to hear. I was stopping by to give a quick check because we’re heading out in the morning.” Seidrik parted from the hug feeling much better.

Morda’s brow furrowed as he parted. He glanced from Kimbel to him with confusion before he cleared his throat with a smile. “I wish you all the best on your journey.”

Morda leaned in, lips inches from Seidrik’s ear as he whispered a word. “And good luck with your beau as well.”

Seidrik pulled back, face burning. And for some reason, he didn’t deny it. “Thank you.”

Kimbel raised a single brow as he followed Seidrik away to the carriage.

“We’re meeting Father at Rekai’s fiber warehouse, next.” Kimbel, if he’d heard anything, said nothing, sitting up straight.

Seidrik nodded and loaded into the carriage to ride into the manufacturing district of town. It was rather uneventful, with Kimbel paying close attention to all around him, seemingly well-prepared for his role as a page.

Seidrik hadn’t had a page ever. He’d not even had an attendant, telling his father that a proper beta could dress themselves, unlike a sniveling omega . His father had approved…but not dismissed his own attendants. Hypocrite.

As they rattled away over the cobblestones, Seidrik glanced out the window, ready to see Stamel again, as if they’d not seen one another not an hour and a half ago .

Ingred and Stamel sat outside, the two ignoring one another for the most part.

They never seemed very close, as if they had professional dealings alone.

Rather like he and Saria had been. She’d been inundated with her own brand of classism, sent to finishing school for girls, while Virion had been given lessons in omega servitude—which were woefully inadequate.

Years gone by, helping Virion with his lessons, Seidrik had lamented how little they deemed necessary for him to learn.

Perhaps the only kindness he ever did Virion was aiding the omega in eavesdropping on beta and alpha lessons.

Avoiding his father had been an ongoing trend, and the library was the last place anyone thought to search for an omega. Though, Ingred and Stamel, neither one seemed dismissive of their omega brother’s capabilities. Still, they fought as any siblings did.

Once united as a group, they forged their way into the factory, minding surfaces covered in a sheen of fine fibrous dust from spinning going on—omegas as far as they could see sat at flyer wheels pulling fine fibers into beautiful thread.

Others sat on tables working hard at embroidering cloth by windows tilted perfectly for maximum light.

Stamel leaned down by Seidrik’s shoulder and whispered as they entered. “Rekai employs only omegas. It’s kept a good deal many single parents off the streets and out of prostitution.”

It warmed Seidrik’s heart in a way. The cold and lecherous alpha had a heart inside of him, and despite the toy he made Seidrik out to be, he treated toys very well. Stamel patted Seidrik’s shoulder, his expression softening as they forged farther in. “Rekai?”

When they dipped into an office off to the side, a little one about four or five years old sat on the floor with a slate board, scrawling out his letters in practice. Rekai sat at a table, fidgeting nervously and Stamel paled. “Papa?”

Pallosar glanced up from the other side of the table and gave Stamel a hard look. “Rekai asked me here when you visited. It appears he had something to discuss but wanted to wait for you.”

Rekai’s cheeks flushed prettily as he tapped his fingers over a simple wooden box on the table. “Stamel is leaving, and I cannot hold my tongue any longer.”

“By the law, not again. Stamel, have you no decency? Is he pregnant again?” Pallosar glared, and Stamel held his hands up.

“Papa, no. No. Rekai, please don’t. I think our arrangement is fine the way it is. I don’t—”

Stamel silenced as Pallosar turned to Rekai and gestured for him to continue speaking.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat before pushing the wooden box toward Pallosar. “It’s all there, plus interest. I regret that I cannot return to you the honor that this has cost you.”

Pallosar’s brow furrowed deeply as he lifted the lid of the box and stared at a neatly stacked lot of gold coins. “What is this?”

“A thank you for all you have done and an apology.” Rekai cleared his throat. “The truth should be known if I am going to lose my protection.”

“What protection?” Pallosar glared at Stamel and then at Rekai.

“Neffa is not Prince Stamel’s son.” Rekai’s voice cracked as he took a shaking breath.

“Rekai!” Stamel reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder and the touch made jealousy prickle up Seidrik’s back.

“Let him speak.” Pallosar’s face didn’t carve into his usual anger but rather cold indifference.

“When I found out I was expecting, I met Prince Stamel by chance at a pub, purchasing drink to take screechwasp honey. Neffa’s sire demanded I rid myself of it or he’d harm my family’s business.”

Pallosar’s eyes darkened from their pretty plant green into a searing emerald. “Explain.”

“He—” Rekai cleared his throat.

“I ordered him to tell you the child was mine. When you asked me about it, I never agreed or denied I’d slept with him.

The Merchant’s Guild master had threatened his family’s business, and I knew you’d save him if you thought it was mine.

” Stamel clenched his fists. “And if Tynmal was unseated, it would have cost us dearly. It was a plague year, Ingred was courting his daughter, still is, and any number of things could have gone awry, and it was the easiest solution.” Stamel huffed and palmed his forehead, swearing under his breath.

“I see. And Tyran?” Pallosar took a sip of tea that Rekai had sat out for him then wiped the tips of his finger on a pretty napkin embroidered with his company’s logo.

“The treasurer’s child… I audited the books and used Tyran as leverage to keep him from skimming. You’ll notice that we’re more flush on taxes in the past few years.” Stamel clenched his fists and huffed a short breath.

“And Kimbel?” Pallosar folded the napkin neatly, his posture all cool anger and flawless grace.

“Kimbel is my blood, I assume. My memory of that night was hazy at best. As I told you those years ago and he does look much like me.” Stamel’s cheeks went pink with the admission. “I never meant to.”

“I see. A good thing we have the halfway house for omegas, now. Or else you’d be claiming all manner of bastards. And what are we doing with Lord Tynmal?” Pallosar sighed heavily.

“Hopefully bullying him into approving my marriage to Amarie.” Ingred sniffed indignantly and Pallosar nodded in approval. The marriage was a convenient one.

“If I have my way, once the two are wed, Ingred can put her in charge of the guild or find better representation. I refuse to oust Rekai, though.” Stamel braced himself and stared Pallosar down.

“Croatens has never been regarded highly. It’s not unusual to have a bastard or two running about—for an alpha.

” Pallosar sighed and pushed the box back toward Rekai.

“I am disinheriting Neffa from the crown. This is his payment. He’ll hold the title of lord and be stricken from the family record as is right.

Nothing will be said publicly. So, we’ll treat this as you requesting his inheritance and be done with it.

I still expect to visit once in a while and see my grandson, as it were. ”

Stamel visibly deflated, and Pallosar glanced from him to Seidrik.

A moment passed before Pallosar stood and brushed his clothes off.

“Rekai, I am not pleased that there was deception. However, you acted on a prince’s command.

And I’ll have the tailor come by with an order soon.

I do so love the new embroidery. Perhaps you should make a garment for Seidrik as well. I’m thinking something white.”

Seidrik sat up straight and tensed, face burning.

“Whatever will piss Alluin off the most. I trust you, Stamel. Do you at least like one another?” Pallosar strode toward the door, pointedly avoiding them.

“From the moment I first saw him.” Stamel’s voice went soft as Pallosar turned and stared Seidrik down.

“I find myself unable to avoid him. He’s rather persistent.” Seidrik cleared his throat.

Pallosar leaned in and whispered to Seidrik’s ear. “You’re not fooling me, and the fact that your ass of a father doesn’t know is highly amusing.”

“H-how did you…” Seidrik swallowed hard .

Pallosar looked him up and down and snorted under his breath. “You’re far too catty and belligerent to be a beta.”

And he wondered just how obvious it was.

Stamel rested a hand on his shoulder. “Rekai, that is an excellent idea. Please do make him some wedding garb fit for a beta. I’ll have it sent over on the thalmway.”

Rekai glanced Seidrik up and down before nodding and slipping off. He returned with a tape measure and said nothing as Ingred walked around nosily.

“I’m impressed Father took it that well. Seemed almost proud of you.” Ingred examined a few skeins of thread on display before glancing over his shoulder. “Tynmal, next?”

Rekai’s shoulders pinched. “I delight every time I hear him suffer.”

“The abyss has no punishment like an omega’s scorn.” Ingred snorted and waited patiently, all the while Seidrik did his best to keep quiet.