Page 4 of Ruined by His Alpha King (Reluctant Fae Princes #3)

Stamel

The goddess will provide. Stamel had to keep telling himself that. With a three-year-old running about his hall, he got precious little sleep, and his sons had missed him terribly during his lockup. They had to know it was for the better good.

“Tyran!” Stamel whipped around to snag the little round-faced boy who glared up at him with foreign eyes. “Are you misbehaving for your nursemaid?”

Camelia, a lovely woman who’d been in service to the family since her grandmother’s childhood days, came scurrying by, her pale hair in messy disarray. “Do you need a break, missus?”

She shook her head. “No, no! I can handle it.”

“Can and should are two different things. Now, would you like to go get a nap and some lunch or something? The servants sent word that I’ve an hour or so yet before I have anywhere to be.

” Stamel smiled as Camelia gave a curt nod and tucked her hair into place.

She gave Tyran a quick kiss to the top of his head and scurried away.

“Dadda!” Tyran wiggled in Stamel’s arms, and he lifted the little boy above his head, jostling him in midair. The youngling laughed and spread his arms like all the world was right.

“You’re overdue for a nap, yourself, my boy.

” Stamel put the little one on his hip, his mind elsewhere.

Just months ago, he’d sworn to himself that the goddess had forgotten him, that he’d done everything right and she’d gone silent.

And still yet, despite the fact that Lumic never wanted the throne, he was taking it because of what Stamel had done.

His own betrayal had seen to the thing he feared most.

I fucked up. Badly .

Kimbel would be coming home soon from his boarding school. Letters written told of a change in station, a new home in Liaberos for the boy and their family with more promise. Stamel missed him so dearly.

Stamel rocked with Tyran as he paced his living quarters while the child wiggled and giggled until his head dropped onto Stamel’s waiting shoulder with a soft snore of exhaustion. “Good job, my little one.”

As easily as one could, Stamel placed the child in a sleeping cot by the window, warm sun dancing over his cheeks as a breeze as cool as autumn’s promise kept him still.

And no sooner than the boy quieted, a polite knock turned his attention to the door. A timid thing full of something that Stamel yearned for. “Oh, my precious boy.”

He opened the living quarter doors to stare down at the beta . Seidrik’s eyes drifted away, his face a mask of surliness and lips pouted almost unpleasantly. After a quick glance around, Stamel tilted his head up and stared at him.

Seidrik’s eyes watered with something greater than fear. Tired bags darkened the skin beneath his eyes and his lips bore fine lines and chapped skin that they’d not so long ago when last they had a clandestine meeting. Stamel smiled. “I thought you’d been avoiding me.”

“I’m here, now. Aren’t I?” Still, his gaze drifted.

The blue in them refused to meet his own.

Fine golden locks had darkened with age in an almost unnatural way, and Stamel brushed his fingers over the side of Seidrik’s head, inhaling deeply the scent of darkwash, a base for quill ink made from the fermented shells of morningberry nuts.

It cast the lightest brown of hue to his hair, set in with citronelia juice as a fixative .

“Mm.” Stamel’s noise of disapproval came almost involuntarily. The beta had defaced himself purposefully. “How dare you?”

“How dare I? How dare you! Try to kill your brother!” Seidrik pulled away but Stamel reached for him, grasping his slender wrists.

“A lapse in judgment trying to gain power.” Stamel leaned in and took a deep breath, inhaling the light scent of omega buried deep beneath incense. “But how dare you mar what is mine?”

Stamel made a grab for Seidrik once more, clutching his face to force it toward him. Terrified, wide, blue eyes stared up at Stamel. Timid as he ever was, Seidrik whimpered. “I have to hide my features. You know this.”

“My nursemaid and child are resting, but later… You will pay for this. Darkening your hair? Your beautiful fair locks.” Stamel reached around to feel Seidrik’s body and squeezed his hip. “And practicing at the sword? You really do wish to be a beta.”

Seidrik attempted to pull away and swatted fruitlessly at Stamel’s hands. “There will be no later. I’m here to take you back with me to Liaberos after the babe is born and help Ingred learn to use the telecon.”

“And what about our little secret?” Stamel leaned into Seidrik’s personal space, nose running along the male’s chin. “I could ruin you.”

Seidrik grew a little spine and shoved Stamel back, face a mask of anger.

“And you think I’m not already ruined? The goddess all but told Father I was an omega.

I’ll not sire a family. That I never spoke to her!

I find it fortunate that he’s likely incredibly dim!

Telling him I’m an omega would only do you a disservice since it’s by my leave that you’re invited to Liaberos and not excised completely.

So, go ahead and tell him and you’ll have nowhere else that will take you. My secret has become your undoing . ”

Seidrik pushed his palm against Stamel’s chest, forcing him a step back before he circumnavigated him and took a quiet seat in one of the guest lounge chairs.

This won’t do at all. Not having control over Seidrik? Not since they’d become adults had Seidrik made the mistake of crossing paths. Kisses were for the children they were. But, Stamel had an ace up his sleeve. One he’d held onto for so very long.

Why? Because almost fifteen years ago, he sat in a glade and watched a nymph strip the horns off of a sobbing omega and traded them away to the young alpha playing on the other side of the glade for a half cask of honey…

and he couldn’t remember what else. At the time, it had seemed kind of important but…

Maybe it was a middle name or something.

Stamel didn’t have one, so maybe he did…

But it didn’t matter. He had two sun elk horns at the bottom of a holy cedar chest in want of their owner.

And if Stamel returned them, he’d be owed a great debt. One that Seidrik could never refuse.

Stamel took his time in walking back to a chair to settle down. His eyes cast sideways toward the young boy sleeping.

“How many of those you have, now?”

“Three.” Stamel flicked a brow. “And you?”

Seidrik scoffed. “Never found any cock worth the trouble.”

Interesting.

“I do frequent public houses, though. Pay the matron to put me up in a room every so often. Most of the time for my begging night, sometimes because I need an afternoon to let it out. I don’t need to do so as much anymore. Not since…” Seidrik’s gaze drifted toward the window.

“Since you sold your horns for a nymph’s true name?” Stamel rolled his eyes when Seidrik startled. “Like I wouldn’t notice. From the moment I kissed you, you were mine, little omega. And I protect what is mine.”

“From the looks of it, many omegas are yours. Forgive me if I don’t consider this an honor.” Seidrik gestured toward the child.

“That’s my youngest, Tyran,” Stamel spoke softly. “Since I hold a secret of yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

Seidrik glanced toward him, brow raised curiously.

“Kimbel, my oldest, who is on his way, is the product of an affair that was not my choosing. I was not yet a man, though his father was, and I was taken advantage of. The other two are mine by the goddess’ will. Their true studs are under my thumb.”

“I see.” Seidrik eyed the child. “That red hair, though.”

“Same red hair that the senior administrator of the treasury has. He’s related to my alpha father.” Stamel picked at his teeth. “And if he wants his little dalliance to remain a secret, he’ll leave the omega alone, leave the child alone, and keep his nose so clean it shines.”

“And the other?” Seidrik held a glimmer of hope in his expression.

“Merchant Guild master. If I want something, he gets it. If I want prices lowered, he does it. Easy as can be.” Stamel eyed Seidrik up and down, his lingering gaze making the male uncomfortable, if his posture and expression were any indicator.

“Sounds as if you’re good at manipulating people.” Seidrik studied his nails and glanced back out the window. There was nothing to see but a sprawling urban area leading into rural countryside. The same view Stamel had seen every day of his life.

“The best at it.” Stamel glanced toward the other door as his nursemaid, Camelia, shuffled in .

“Ah, Tyran’s down for a nap. Shall I move him?” She yawned.

“I think it’s time he woke before it gets too late in the day. Else wise he’ll never go to sleep. You know how he gets,” Stamel said, grinning fondly as she went to the cot to wake the little one. He rubbed at his little cheeks and mewled in discomfort until Camelia picked him up.

“Right, sir. We’ll go play until dinnertime. Then he’s all yours.” She swept out of the room, skirts swishing. “And I might give him a sweet or two so he can give you a taste of his energy.”

“I look forward to it.” Stamel waved the woman off and blew a kiss to his child, who beamed. He really did love the little one.

Stamel wondered, idly, if he could make Seidrik love him, too. He’d make a lovely pater one day, round and swollen with child, chest swollen with milk, nipples pink and raw. The thought consumed him until Seidrik stood abruptly, snapping him from thought. “Seidrik?”

“Tea. Could we have some tea sent up?” He cleared his throat.

“Of course.” Stamel brought his fingers to his lips and focused on the image of a butterfly, but Stamel’s always had been a little different, many wings whirring about in a flare of white light—a jewelfly.

He whispered a request for tea and let it fly away.

Sometimes it was handy to have twenty-five thalms. Certainly, there were those with more. Stamel had what he needed, though.