Page 22 of Ruined by His Alpha King (Reluctant Fae Princes #3)
“Why couldn’t he have been the omega and Virion the beta? Waste of thalms if you ask me,” Alluin said through a mouthful, and Seidrik saw no reason to stay or respond.
As Seidrik marched to his hall, the gravity of the situation hit him. His only consolation? Stamel hadn’t laughed. He remained stoic at Alluin’s jabs.
When he returned to their wing, he flung himself into his bed and buried his face in pillows.
Moments went by before the creaking of his door alerted him to another presence.
He’d not heard Stamel’s heavy footsteps.
Seidrik lifted his head and glanced toward the door as a pink-faced child sat in the doorway, lips twisted.
In his hands was a thick tome. “Where’s Dada? ”
“In the dining hall speaking with King Alluin.” Seidrik turned over and sat up. “Where’s your governess?”
The boy, Tyran, blinked innocently. “She fell asleep. Will you read me a story?”
“Can you not read?” Seidrik scooted over as the little one toddled in, slung his book up over the edge of the bed, and climbed up the duvet as one might a rope ladder.
“You aren’t going to make water in my bed, are you?” Seidrik stared him down.
“I know how to use a chamber pot all on my own.” He pouted and picked up the book once more before flopping it in Seidrik’s lap.
“Well, do you need to go or anything before I read something?” Seidrik didn’t want to risk it, but one supposed far worse substances had been spilled in his bed.
Tyran twisted his lips and nodded.
Seidrik sighed, slid from bed, and picked the little one up as if he might be poisonous. He carried him to the garderobe and sat him down at the entrance before gesturing.
“I need a stool.” He glanced up at Seidrik and earned an exasperated sigh. Seidrik once again lifted him up and held him at the chamber, head turned politely.
As it turned out, children could pee forever . Seidrik waited patiently until the little one proclaimed himself done a few seconds after the tinkling sounds ended. Seidrik carried him to the washbowl to insist he cleansed his hands, as all good little boys should, and returned him to bed.
He snuggled up to Seidrik’s side and pulled the book up, flipping pages to a story insistently. “This one.”
“ The Thalmsmith and the Merchant’s Son ?” Seidrik stared at a gaudy woodcut image of an overdressed fainting night-fae omega sprawled back in a boorish sun-fae alpha’s arms.
Tyran bounced excitedly, eyes a bright copper color and glittering.
“Very well.” Seidrik welcomed the distraction as he held the book up and read.
“Once upon a time in a kingdom far away lived Tollen, the son of a powerful baron.
He lived in a barony by the sea, full of wealth, as their docks brought in the finest treasures from all across the world. Treasures that Tollen wore every day, ate of every evening, and learned the song of nations far away as the traders on ships sang them bawdily.
“Tollen was, by trade, a thalmsmith, the second-born son of the land baron and an omega, one whom many males had offered their hands to.”
Sounds like Virion… Seidrik avoided laughing.
“His father spoiled him, and his older alpha brother doted on him every day. So much so that when Tollen asked, on his fifteenth nameday, they’d built him a thalmalurgical lab!
“Every day, Tollen spent hours there, reading books from his father’s library and from others. Passing tradesmen let him transcribe notes from new shipments of books going to conservatories, and all manner of wonders he discovered, his mind set on making things for the good of the people.
“His desire? To make wings so that betas may fly, too! So every day he locked himself away, designing fanciful mechanisms to wear. His first idea had been to use magic, to push thalms into betas to make them whole! Many betas volunteered, but all left saddened.
“He prayed to the moon for inspiration, as she granted her worshipers the ability to manipulate blacksteel!”
“Like the Drashili?” The little one stared up at Seidrik with wide eyes.
“Indeed.” Seidrik licked a finger and turned the page.
“‘Mother Goddess, moon above, why can I not fix the betas?’ he asked her.
“‘Son of mine, on this moonlit night, your theory is wrong, but your heart is right. Betas were not meant to fly. They cannot come to me and find love in the sky. Omega and alphas are born as two, to help the betas, to bear duties, too,’ the goddess said.”
“Though, why she has to rhyme about it, I’m uncertain.” Seidrik stared at the page and earned a huff from Tyran.
“That’s not in the story!”
“Apologies. I’ll continue.” Seidrik cleared his throat as familiar footsteps plodded down his hall, proceeded by a heavy, familiar weight sinking into the mattress. Stamel.
He said nothing, but Seidrik continued .
“‘But, Mother Goddess, moon above, holy is thy glow! I wish for them to have all the wonders that we have.’ Tollen prayed, and the goddess listened.
“‘Little omega, precious child, your heart is full of fancy. The betas have their own blessings, freedoms and thinks you can’t see.’ The moon sent down her love, and Tollen grew frustrated.
“‘Mother moon, goddess fair, would you grant me this for once? To allow a beta flight. Even if they’re blessed in other ways, I wish them to see the world as I do!’ Tollen prayed, but the goddess grew angry.
“‘Precious one, omega fair, do not question me. Do not dare. I have given my word, my meaning true. Mark my words, if you give betas wings, you will rue.’ The goddess spoke, and it was final. Betas were not meant to fly.
“But did Tollen listen?”
“Of course not. He’s got his head stuck on something and is bent on it. Never get in the way of an omega with a head full of ideas.” Seidrik snorted and earned a frustrated growl from Tyran, who slapped the page to remind him to continue reading.
“Fine, fine.” Seidrik sighed.
“And so, Tollen made wings, one pair after another.
First, he made a set of wings made of the petals of a canopy flower.
Their petals, each carrying a seed, could fly for miles.
He put them on a beta male, and they flew from a rooftop all the way to the sea and fell in!
In their haste to swim to shore, they were found by a buxom barmaid and fell in love when she rescued him. And he had no more use for wings.
“Frustrated, he built another set from paper, pasted sheets of books on wire frames.
He put them on a beta woman, and she leaped from the rooftop and flew across the barony and landed in a field where she was caught by a flaxsheep farmer that made her his wife.
As she found love, she had no use for wings and never returned.
“Next, he made wings of glass, enchanted to be light as a feather. He infused salicate into crystal, melted sand and colored them like stained glass. He put them on a beta male who leaped from the clock tower and flew far into the sunset. And many weeks later, missive arrived from a neighboring kingdom that he’d found a wife in the princess of another nation!
And since he’d found love, he did not need to fly.
With the missive came a package, a box of shattered wing pieces.
“From blacksteel, silver, gold, and the broken glass, Tollen forged a new set of wings.
He hammered into the night, crafted his finest thalms into them, and hid his work from the goddess behind closed curtains.
And one day, a servant left his curtains open; by candlelight, he worked on fashioning beautiful wings, giving them gears and mechanisms to tick and flutter.
“Through the open window, the goddess saw what he’d made and cursed his forge, making the smoke of it penetrate his thalmalurgical lab! As the night wore thin into morning, he fell into a deep sleep, dreaming the dream of betas in flight.
“In the morning, his father and brother discovered their omega son asleep in his lab before the metal and glass wings.
“The baron gave his son vitalis, and still he slept.
“His brother hired a healer, and still he slept.
“And in their desperation, they called out to the conservatories, begging all manner of learned men to come inspect the prince and try their hand.
“A thalmalurgist came and said that the prince needed to be fed the juice of a rare fruit, to boost the sweetness of his soul so that he would wake.
“And he slept still .
“An astronomy thalmist declared that the moon had seized him, and as part of her domain, he could only be healed by moonlight and the prayers of a night fae.
“And in the moonlight, they prayed for him, until the moon herself spoke and said that the stars and night were not to blame.
“His heart was.
“‘My edict true this omega defied. His mind is full of wondrous pride. What he thought in betas to fix, were wings and horns that he shouldn’t mix. Betas find love where they make it and lead when they must. Alphas and omegas must earn their own trust. When I told him that this was right, he defied my edict and worked out of my sight. What he seeks to give others, he must earn for his heart. Not pieces or fancy, but whole, not part. Upon his lips a brand to place. A kiss upon his treasured face. When his mate he feels at last, he’ll cease his journey to unite the contrast.’
“So, the father and his brother called to all the noblemen, alphas of marrying age and brought them to his son. Each one laid a flower upon him and kissed his cold lips.
“Each one left, their heart unmatched.
“He called for nobles, alphas from all corners of the country, not a one had lips that loved him more than he loved his thalms. No alpha held his heart enough to ease his mind’s exploration of thalms and silly machinations that offended the goddess.
“When it had been almost a year, a merchant’s son arrived one day, a bundle on his back to deliver books for the father’s library. A learned boy who had traveled the world, but he held no status. When he stepped into the estate, in the grand foyer sat the sleeping form of the Baron’s omega son.