“Does it matter?” He leaned away but cried out in shock when Stamel tugged at his shirt and found a pink nipple, giving it a flick. “You! Happy? All these years, I’ve avoided you because I wanted you. It’s like that ridiculous kissing thing you did made a mark of claim upon me and no matter what I did, it was you that came to mind.”
“Very happy. Now smarten up, my blushing bridegroom. We wouldn’t want people speculating.” Stamel braced himself as the thalmway slowed with a shudder, rails screaming as the weight of the carriages behind them put force into their forward momentum.
So, when the passenger cars finally lined up with the dismounting platform, Stamel stared out at the welcoming… A single royal carriage sat waiting, not a person in sight with fanfare or a celebratory smile. The disappointment must have been evident on his face when Seidrik snorted.
“I thought you understood that I was no longer in my father’s favor, not that I had it much to begin with. They do not celebrate my presence.” Seidrik stood and opened his own door as the carriage stopped, and shouldered a bag that he’d set aside with gifts from Croatens to King Alluin. The trinkets he carried were mostly some exotic fragrance oils and a very ornately embroidered tunic done in the official Liaberian white and gold with tribute to the sun done over much of it.
Seidrik had accepted it gratefully on Alluin’s behalf, but voiced that his father would likely never wear it, and would happily dispose of it. This he said in private to Stamel, of course.
They disembarked and crossed the platform, loading into the carriage without so much as a greeting. Even the attendants avoided conversing with Seidrik—whether it was because they believed themselves better than him or because they were instructed not to speak to royalty was beyond Stamel.
They rode through the gilded streets, storefronts and people milling about in varying degrees of wealth and ostentation. Stamel wondered how far beyond the main street the riches continued, and what their poor had to endure.
When they reached the castle, their belongings were sent up to Seidrik’s wing, no question asked as to where Stamel would stay. Seidrik had been an instrumental factor in his promise to Liaberos to rebuild their guard and train. Seidrik, himself, had been trained in combat, though how effective it was…that had yet to be seen.
The arrival lacked any sort of excitement or celebration, and it wasn’t until the dinner chimes rang and they’d cleaned up, putting on evening attire, that they saw Alluin sitting bored and alone at the end ofhis grand table. He glanced up, his cold and featureless face morphing into displeasure, then amusement as he turned his gaze to Stamel. “Welcome, Prince Stamel. It is a pleasure to host you.”
“And a pleasure to be given the opportunity to stay here at your lovely palace, King Alluin.” Stamel swooped himself into a cordial bow, not so low as to appear of lesser class but also low enough to show off his horns as he displayed them, as royalty did when able.
Alluin is a fucking suckup for alphas.At the display of horns, Alluin gave a genuine smile and welcomed Stamel to his side. “Come, sit, you must be tired. I apologize for there not being a welcoming party at the platform. I wasn’t certain it would be today.”
That’s a lie. Ingred verified their arrival.
“It’s of no matter. I wouldn’t want to waste precious Liaberian resources on the likes of myself. I am merely royal blood and lineage. I hold no station but prince in name.” Stamel rose to his full height and approached, letting an attendant pull his chair back. For a moment, he almost beckoned Seidrik over, but caught himself as his mate took a seat farther down the table. “Seidrik was so kind to me over the visit, and he bonded with Askara and the goddess quite well.”
That caught Alluin’s attention, and he turned his gaze sharply toward Seidrik. “I was under the impression that Seidrik’s prayers had been insufficient to our Mother Goddess.”
“They were, assuredly. He was so ashamed and felt unworthy of her love. Touching, really. She blessed him with kind words and has urged him to raise his head high.” Stamel laid it on thick as he reached for a goblet of wine that an attendant sat before him and poured cool water atop to make it weaker and more palatable.
“You’ve made yourself a good influence on my wayward son, I see. Alas, my hopes for him have run thin as of late. His refusal to speak with our mother pained me, and to hear the news of his abnormality before the kingdom…” Alluin sighed as if he actually cared about his son. Stamel had a theory that Alluin had almost regarded him as competition.
“I cannot take the credit. He is inundated with fine blood and a mind keener than he lets on. If given opportunity, I see his mind adding fine tactics to your guard.” Stamel took a long sip and set his goblet down, leaning away as an attendant brought by the potage. His family never bothered with the pre-salad stew, but Alluin loved overcooked, bland food.
He waited, as he was taught, for Alluin to take a bite, then proceeded to eat with Seidrik following in tow. Though, from the corner of Stamel’s gaze, he could tell that Seidrik merely pushed the thick, white stew around aimlessly.
Alluin dabbed at his lips and swallowed with a hum of satisfaction. “He has the fine makings of a strategist, but alas not the station for it. The goddess has declared him an accessory to our lineage.”
“I wouldn’t count that. I have been instructed by our mother to form strong ties with him to both our countries’ advantage.” Stamel took a bite of the soup and swallowed hard. The last time he’d tasted something of that nature had been a bland gruel the palace chef had made as a wickleaf porridge to thicken the gravy. He held a straight face and took a third bite before placing his spoon to the side.
“Please, eat,” Alluin said, gesturing toward his bowl.
“I didn’t wish to be rude and wanted my appetite for the next course. Since things are in season, I wanted to focus my appetite on Liaberian produce.” Stamel smiled and Alluin nodded in approval. He, too,sat his spoon aside as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. Apparently, he liked to starve.Ew.
When the soup was taken away, a fine salad followed, which Stamel praised, focusing more on the brighter-flavored notes in it, hoping Alluin would take the praise to heart and actually serve things that didn’t taste like parchment paste. Seidrik, for his part, dug into the salad wordlessly, and Stamel felt that his every focus was in trying to appear invisible.
Dinner progressed into the main course, a prepared summer pheasant roasted and served over a bland boiled root. Not a fleck of foxpepper, a grain of salt, or any spice was present.
That’s it! Alluin has no soul! He’s a ghost from the void made solid. Or no sense of taste.
Dessert was an affront to the goddess herself, a steamed compote of wind apples. No creeping bark, no flickercane sugar, only fruit and a dry wine baked into an uninteresting pale paste. Stamel ate it to save face, but he caught Seidrik’s gaze, shooting him a disgusted look that he turned his head from, tensing as if he hid a laugh.
An elderly beta came shuffling in, head bowed low as they neared the end of their dessert. “The blessings, my liege?”
Seidrik bowed his head as Alluin placed his spoon down, head aloft as if he deserved the goddess’s praises. It sickened Stamel on the goddess’s behalf. He’d never be so bold as to regard prayers that way, and that was something that came from someone who, up until three years ago, had regarded the goddesses as nuisances.
The priest raised his hands and basically yodeled at them with geriatric blessings, his voice cracking as he chanted and praised the goddess before excusing himself.
“Now that’s over, I’ll retire. You must be exhausted. Your things were sent to Seidrik’s wing. Would you like him moved to another wing? Virion’s quarters are empty at the moment.” Alluin gave Stamel a polite smile that Stamel returned.
