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Shattered by His Alpha King

Copyright 2024 Lilo Quie
Digital ISBN:
Print ISBN:
Published by Decadent Publishing LLC
Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue
About the Author
Omegas do not get to choose their station. Their gender is other. Their options are limited and Virion,
born into a place of privilege, still has to contend with all the responsibility of bearing some alpha of his
father’s choosing an heir. Fortunately for him, so far, his father has allowed him to turn away potential
suitors. Until now.

Nemiah, first and only born son of the King of Drashil has recently taken the throne upon slaying his
father in a bid for peace. In lieu of war, he wants to use his kind’s skills at mechanical prowess to take over
the world by metal and machine in commerce. When he petitions the King Alluin of Liaberos to back him
in peace for a share of the wealth to come, he is told he must have an heir to pass the knowledge down to
before their agreement is complete. Nemiah has no mate, but as luck would have it, King Alluin’s omega
son is quite fetching and has the most stubborn glint in his eyes.
 I’ve taken a while to write this one as my first foray into more traditional fantasy. It’s been a
roller coaster of uncertainty and trial, but I prevailed. Every book I write feels like a little dragon
I have to best. But this one I feel I’ve made into a pet.

For questions and comments: [email protected]

Shattered By His Alpha King
Reluctant Fae Princes

by
Lilo Quie
 Chapter One
Virion

Virion blew a lingering breath against the drafty stained glass of his room before pushing the
eaves open to grip onto the mullion for balance. There, the warm air from inside and his subtle
breaths made trails of smoke, the condensate dissipating in the blink of an eye into the chilly
morning. Usually, he went back to sleep after sunrise until midmorning, but the long creak of the
drawbridge and marching guards drew his curiosity.
He enjoyed watching the sunrise; the goddess lifting her eyes to brighten the sky. Even if she
never spoke to omegas, he liked to watch her.
Sitting there, wondering why defenses assembled, he cast his gaze skyward. A bloom of red
in the eastern morning sky hinted of a foul evening to come. That, or the Drashil troops had
stoked their forges to build more weapons of siege.
There were only two things certain in Virion’s life. The first was war: always present and
never satisfying. The second was the fragility of his station. As an omega, he had no hope of
holding his father’s throne, doomed to be a prince for the rest of his days or until a suitable alpha
suitor had been found. And his days of grace on that front were growing very thin. Even if it
wasn’t his fault that the only interested suitors were old, twice mated already, or in possession of
a personality far less attractive than their faces, and that was saying something.
Having standards is a crime, I suppose!
According to his father, it was. He’d issued a decree that if Vir turned one more suitor away,
they’d force him into service to the goddess as a celibate mage. He had power in spades for it,
but celibacy wasn’t for him.
This had been three suitors ago.
An awful clanging noise had interrupted his thought that morning, the front gates
announcing visitors they’d not expected. More? That was the way of things in war though.
People constantly came to their kingdom with their hands cupped, hoping to receive a spill of
their wealth that flowed like waters. For good reason, they stayed free of the war.
 Their immense wealth made them a target, but none would strike them, for they held the
secret to Vitalis. All sides needed their graces to continue on, and Liaberos, their kingdom, had
and would withhold the healing waters from anyone who betrayed their trust.
Vir, as he liked to be called, coaxed himself from beneath several layers of many soft, hand-
hewn quilts embroidered with the finest pale silver and lavender flowers. The window’s draft hit
him once more. A long dressing gown spilled over his pale legs, feet padding over dark stone to
locate his morning slippers and shuffle his way to the garderobe.
“Pilki!” Vir cried out, rubbing at an eye to rid it of crust and an errant lash. His maidservant
was nowhere to be seen as he saw to his morning ablutions and retreated to his room once more
in the early springtime chill. He was surprised his bottom hadn’t stuck frozen to the seat.
Nearly knocking his head into the inward swinging door, Vir stumbled back at the sight of
his towheaded nursemaid, forty years his senior but as forgetful as she was cheerful. Fortunately,
little was expected of Vir, and he expected little of her. “Good morning, Pilki.”
She turned bright, blue eyes toward him, her posture cowering and expression unreadable.
“Good morning, my Blessed Prince.”
Blessed Prince… He hated the moniker. As an omega prince, he was the blessed one, one
blessed to give life to a new generation. As his brother, Seidrik, a beta male like their father, was
the Venerable Prince. His sister, the Virtuous Princess, even had a better title than he did. Even
she wasn’t defined by her fertility. An omega was considered other. Male only in some features,
but a rarity among their kind, born with differences that didn’t become apparent until he was
several years old.
One day, he was deemed a princeling and being bathed by his maidservant Sivia, at the time,
and the next, he was Blessed Prince and being stripped of his breeches in favor of flowing robes
and clothes that were damn-near dresses.
“What was that awful noise?” Vir didn’t pry over her state, assuming she’d tell him if it
were something pertinent or that she needed to share. He didn’t mind listening to her woes.
She twisted her hands over a handkerchief as he shed his gown and spied his bathing tub. It
sat empty and still chilled. He halted in his underclothes and stared at it before her throat cleared.
“It appears, Bless’d,” she said, shortening his title, “that a battalion has arrived from Drashil.”
“Buying more Vitalis, I assume.” Vir waved a hand dismissively and gestured toward the
tub. The parade had no need for him to march for show.
 “Perhaps, Bless’d. But they come with foul news and your father requests your immediate
presence.”
Vir’s nipples hardened as gooseflesh traveled his body from the cold. She’d not even stoked
the fires for his bath. “I take it that means no bath, Pilki?”
“I am afraid so, Bless’d.” She tore away from her cowering spot behind him and into his
walk-in closet, selecting for him a fetching pale silk robe in a beautiful shade of steel blue. Every
seam of it embedded with tiny silver studs that weighted the collar in place and kept his sleeves
in a low drape so they didn’t flutter about effeminately.
“Oh goddess, these are my ballroom robes. Fetch me something more fit for the council—”
He waved his hand, but she shook her head.
“His Majesty said you were to be made presentable and alluring. This is your most beautiful
set.” She handed him a pair of light silk pants he could tie into place, the saving grace of his
waning masculinity. He was a corset and a pair of bloomers away from being called a princess by
rights, and he hated it.
Once he tied his pants into place, he threw his arms out, waiting for Pilki to slide his robes
on one sleeve at a time. Misery pooled in her pale eyes. “It isn’t all that good, Bless’d.”
“Another suitor?” Vir scoffed and rolled his shoulders as she wrapped him with the fine silk,
tying each belt and fastening them into place with careful precision.
Pilki opened her mouth to say something, her eyes watering as a spark of magic popped over
her lips, a warning spell if ever he saw one. “Can’t rightly say, Bless’d.”
For his father to have forbidden her to speak, it had to be something he knew Vir wouldn’t
show up for. Not that he was expected to show for things anyway. His sister could canoodle with
the high courts and go on embassy meetings. His brother learned the sword and brokered treaties.
Vir was an omega, good for nothing but sitting around and practicing his spellwork. And
even then, when he excelled past his sister in his learning and scored beyond both siblings in
thalms, their unit of measure for magical capacity, he received no praise. Vir possessed a score of
thirty-two. The king himself was only a twenty! Nothing he did garnered praise. “I can imagine.”
“No, you can’t.” Pilki picked at his night braid and pulled the ribbon from his hair to let his
tresses fall. As if shocked, she added, “Bless’d, my lord.”
Maybe being wed off wouldn’t be such a foul idea if it would stop everyone from addressing
him by his anal capacity! He almost said something before taking a calming breath, blowing
strands as fine as spider’s silk away from his face. Colorless as a diamond and kept long past his
waist, with only a gentle crown of braids that marked him as omega. Every part of him had to be
a shining example of what he was. “If he’s old or ugly this time, I’ll join the conservatory of
magic.” From what he heard, his ass wouldn’t go wanting in those dormitories at night. Celibacy.
Hah!
She tightened her hands in his hair, unspoken words hanging in the air.
“I know it’s not ideal, but I refuse to be stuck with an animal!” Vir rolled his eyes and
stepped into well-tailored slippers, the bottoms stiffer but padded in ways that gave his step no
sound. Quiet and observant as an omega should be. He set off down the hall and were it not for
the awful echo of the hallways in his wing, he’d stomp around on purpose.
He didn’t receive the fanfare that his sister would have received upon entering the high
court, but silence followed when the guards opened the doors for him and quietly announced the
Blessed Prince.
Virion had long learned not to wince and glare in public. They wouldn’t announce his sister
so. Oh yes, our magnificent Princess Tits has arrived! He wondered why everyone else didn’t get
shitty monikers.
Few eyes turned his way, as they usually did. His hanging robes swayed about his feet as he
approached his father’s table, taking a seat two spaces down from even his valet. One set of eyes
focused on him, black as obsidian, with irises so blue it hurt to stare into them for too long. His
cool gaze was set among skin so deathly gray it could have been cast of limestone. Drashili. Vir
didn’t even need him to unmask his wings or see his horns to know he was alpha.
“Ah, my child.” King Alluin, father to Virion, raised a tanned arm and waved him over.
Virion straightened once more, the display an uncoordinated gesture as he approached his
father’s side for the most awkward of one-armed hugs. “How would you feel about the crowned
Prince Drashil as your husband?”
Virion had never been asked to reject a potential partner face-to-face before. The male
across the table shifted in his seat the barest of an inch, his face passive and as annoyed as Virion
wanted to display.
The two had never officially crossed paths, as Vir was kept away from view of the general
public, a dud son, as it were, a bargaining card best kept in the hand. Vir had seen the prince
before, Nemiah Drashil, firstborn son of King Behran Drashil, the black sorcerer. Legend had it
their kingdom was a land of death, as dark as their eyes and darker still than the inky hair that
swept back over the prince’s head, framing his jawline in rich waves. A single thin lock had
flown from place and rested casually over the crook of his bullish horns. The jutting prominence
of them signified he was not only an alpha but a strong one.
Alphas of Vir’s persuasion possessed pronged horns, while betas of both races held no
adornments of head or wing. Only alphas and omegas could manifest wings, not that his father
allowed him, much like his caged seabird.
“I cannot rightly say, Father. I’m not sure what answer I’m expected to give in this
situation.” Virion cast his gaze over Nemiah once more, taking in his broad shoulders, lean
stature, elegant neckline, and dark lips cast a purpling hue from blood. Those ethereal eyes met
his own and drilled into him.
“It matters not. The deal has been made, Alluin—or should I say Father?” Nemiah flashed a
white smile, his canines and bicuspids sharpened into fierce points that he licked with lascivious
intent.
“Has an arrangement been made between Prince Nemiah and Saria?” Vir’s stomach
clenched when the corners of Nemiah’s lips tilted upward as the flash of teeth passed.
“It appears, my betrothed, that we are arranged.” Nemiah’s gaze traced Vir’s body. No
movement of those fierce eyes went unnoticed, each tick of motion undressing the Blessed
Prince with cold calculation.
“This is…quite the surprise. I was under the impression that I had been bequeathed to the
conservatory of mages, Father.” Vir swallowed and found his mouth suddenly dry. The Drashil
prince was no hardship to look at, but his father always had a simmering hatred for the night fae.
The king reached a hand up to latch onto Vir’s shoulder, fingers clenching tight as he drew
his son down. In a sharp whisper, hot breath and spittle invaded Vir’s ear like a plague despite his
words being far more virulent. “What I said was that if you rejected once more, you’d be given
to the conservatory. You, my child, have rejected thrice more since.”
Fuck. Vir tightened his shoulders and kept silent, unable to hold back the shivering breath of
fear. “Father, please. I ca—” King Alluin pushed him away, his feet stumbling over themselves
before he righted his stance.
 “Omegas are hard to tame. One might as well attempt to keep a seabird caged. They’ll beat
their wings over the bars and shit all over everything you give them.” King Alluin scoffed and
Vir turned his gaze away. “Though, as far as omegas go, I am told they are a lovely specimen.”
“Him?” Nemiah’s voice held a chilled edge to it that made Virion’s skin prickle.
At least he gendered me correctly.
“They,” King Alluin said. The correction struck Vir to his core, stripping him of his
masculinity in yet another way.
“I see. I suppose they are lovely.” That slithering voice held an edge of magic to it that made
Vir want to listen. His gaze snapped back to King Alluin. “How do they match in thalmic
power?”
“A six or seven, I believe,” King Alluin said. A flicker of uncertainty hardened in Nemiah’s
eyes before he glanced toward Vir again. Doubt framed Nemiah’s face. A six was insultingly
low.
Vir knew better than to correct his father, but he wondered if he was playing a game or had
genuinely forgotten. Seidrik had been a twenty-one and Saria a seventeen. Both of those were
considered more than adequate.
“I suppose I must take them to unite our households. It is a small price to pay.” Nemiah
nodded, and Vir’s stomach knotted further. Though, something in Nemiah’s studious gaze held a
thread of doubt at Alluin’s disparaging assessment.
“Now let me see this invention of yours. If it is as you say, we’ll strike the deal.” King
Alluin waved and Nemiah’s grin grew. With a sly gesture, he curled slender fingers in Vir’s
direction in a pointedly teasing display, as if to claim him with but a motion.
Pilki and two unfamiliar males of Drashili descent ushered him away from the table.
“I’m sorry, Blessed Prince. I truly am.” Pilki’s voice trembled. “We must pack your things.
I’ve seen his work and Alluin will find no fault.”
“I am fortunate I have only my clothes and jewelry.” Vir’s gaze cast up to the buttresses of
the walls, willing tears not to form in his eyes as the first good bit of news sank in. “If I’m to
wed, I’ll have plenty of time to be packed while I’m cleansing.”
“No need to bring your clothes. The shadow of the mountain is much too cold for such silk,”
a Drashili attendant said, sidestepping Pilki’s mothering attempts at snagging the hems of his
shirt.
Hopefully, there’ll be proper trousers. Though he doubted it.
 Chapter Two
Nemiah

Nemiah walked aside King Alluin of Liaberos with a long stride. The male’s golden hair and
pale eyes held a stark contrast to his own. Such was the way of his kind, fae of the night, as he
held the sun in his features. The fae of day.
“Your son didn’t seem too pleased about the arrangement.” Nemiah folded his hands behind
his back.
“Not my son. My child. And no, they’re a pain, which I suppose is your problem. Their
mother coddled them.” Alluin snorted and kept pace, his guards flanking him with overprotective
ostentation. “If you manage to show me proof of this machine of yours.”
“I have nothing but my word and proof to offer you, Alluin, and if anything, the Drashil
honors their word.”
The statement brought Alluin much mirth as he laughed in a short bark. “You say that and
murder your own father in the same breath. How trustworthy is a male that commits patricide?”
“One that values the lives of many over those of the few.” Nemiah gazed upward, the sky
breaking into early morning, letting sunlight emerge to kiss his cheeks. Contrary to popular
belief, the night fae appreciated the warmth of the sun goddess. They simply did not worship it
as the sun fae did.
“You say that and build machines of war.” Alluin stared at the ground for a moment,
stopping to eye his shoe before continuing on, forcing Nemiah to alter his pace. Little gestures of
control. Small actions the king took told a story of an insecure male. Even in how he spoke to his
omega child, he exerted power in that old way, like his own father. Curse his soul and may the
goddess forget his name.
Nemiah tilted his head from side to side. “I create machines of commerce, and what
investors choose to do with them is not my concern. However, do make note that I approached
you first.”
“Yes, yes. You approached the wealthiest kingdom you do not war with.” Alluin waved his
hand as they boarded a carriage and rode the cobbled streets of the castle town that lay in neat
concentric lines around the outer ward of the keep.
 “Not entirely, my friend. I contacted you as a provider of Vitalis. You have the most reliable
name to attach to a project to see that my father’s legacy doesn’t ensure the project receives
unnecessary trouble.”
Alluin’s face wrinkled. “That and you need my land to build that blacksteel road. What did
you name the thing?”
“Thalmway.”
A grunt of acknowledgement settled Nemiah as they rode the smooth streets, not even taxing
the struts of the carriage. “Bloody mechathalmy. Eventually, the world will figure out how it is
that you harness thalms.”
“They are welcome to try, but it is as futile as those trying to learn the secrets of Vitalis. It’s
in our blood, I’m afraid.” Nemiah waved a dismissive hand.
“Blood that grows thin.” Alluin sneered as they passed the city gates. “Once you produce a
son, I’ll feel kindlier about our exchange.”
“Virion will see to that part, I am sure.” Nemiah picked at a stray hair on his sleeve. The
black woolen garments were a little too warm for this side of the mountain pass, and the fae all
too fair-haired. He mightn’t have had a problem were it not for the fact they all had some sort of
collective agreement to shed their hair over all he held dear. Every strand stood out in stark
contrast.
A sharp reminder that Virion would dwell with him soon. The omega’s hair shone pale and
bright and would be all over everything in time.
Alluin laughed. “If you can hold them down long enough to breed them. They have their
mother’s willfulness. Though, if they have any of her fidelity, feel free to dishonor the union. If
he comes to you deflowered, that is.”
Nemiah picked at a fleck of dry skin on his cuticle, tuning out Alluin’s blathering. The sun
fae and their desire for virginity and vigilant concern for their children’s bedroom activities he
found distasteful, though he’d not say a word of it to sabotage his hard work. Four straight years
he’d spent working on this project, hiding it from his father. “I’ll bear that in mind. Virion is of
your blood, then?”
Alluin nodded. “That unfortunate ghostly pallor of his is a family trait, I’m afraid.”
Nemiah found the omega attractive enough, all willowy frame, flowing hair, and large eyes
so pink and pale. Not albino in the common way but devoid of pigment in his hair and eyes
alone. To claim him as a mate on looks alone was unfortunate, but he didn’t have the luxury of
time.
War was expensive.
Losing one was even more so.
And his father never lost, even when the costs alone predicted defeat.
They approached the outer walls of the city with more carriages ahead and behind them, the
pomp and fanfare far overdone. Nemiah didn’t bring a guard with him at all, as he knew the
Liaberians were a docile people that wouldn’t chance war or sully their reputation. They were
holders of healing waters, and none that crossed them would ever taste a drop again.
“I present to you, sir, the thalm engine. The finest mechathalmy has to offer. Merely lay
blacksteel, as we have done here, and it barely needs manpower to run. Two low-skilled mages
working in tandem can run the thing if they have someone trained in maintenance to ride with
them. We can carry inventory of all kinds—”
“Weapons and soldiers.” Alluin sighed heavily. “It’s a war machine.” He gestured toward
the display. The blacksteel tracks had an ominous quality to them, as raw and unforgiving as the
style of the times in Drashil. Despite Nemiah’s attempt at softening the features of the engine
and the carriage lugged behind it, he was no artisan. Cold blacksteel wound and riveted a rather
oblong shape on wheels that were designed for the terrain, thick and unforgiving, but spoked to
eliminate cracking in the molds on casting and cooling. The thing held none of the allure of
Liaberian aesthetics.
“No. This is also why I sought your investment and approval. It can travel forty kilometers
to the user’s thalmic level per hour uninterrupted and continuously. Virion, in three months’ time,
could mount a rail and be at your hearth in under two hours. People could travel farther across
this land if we license the lines and sell the machines. We can claim monopoly and forbid the use
of weapon transport. Think of it, Alluin. Wouldn’t you love to have fresh citronelia nectar every
morning? Forget waiting for its brief season. It grows wild and abundant in the Shail lands.”
Nemiah tempered his enthusiasm, keeping his tone even. His father would be frothing at the
mouth to cuff Nemiah for such deals, but it was his fault that the coffers were nearly bare.
“Interesting. Citronelia nectar spoils a day off the vine.” He scrutinized the machine, eyes
darting to elements that Nemiah knew well in advance would earn his ire. It was ugly. It looked
like a weapon of siege. It looked Drashili.
 “And it’ll still have hours to spare when it reaches you.” Nemiah offered Alluin his most
wicked grin.
The prototype he’d built from painstaking work with forge-smiths and mages was a
blacksteel reinforced carriage, the wheels toothless gears that latched onto long beams amid
flashpine ties and gravel. The trees had been an invasive menace from several generations ago
that grew unreasonably fast and sucked the life from the land. The wood was notoriously hard to
carve and unattractively grained, making it impractical for construction. Even as a firewood, it
created oily smoke that made it hard to breathe. But as a stabilizer for his rail, they merely
needed to be evened.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Alluin stared at the machine with scrutiny as they stepped
from the carriage.
His workers had made quick work of laying out a half a kilometer circular track and
mounting the thalm engine. “Which of your soldiers with you has the lowest thalmic potential?”
Alluin snapped his fingers toward one of his personal guards to send them off to ask.
“A two or a three will do.” Nemiah folded his hands behind his back proudly and waited as a
rather gangly young male was led out and into the driver’s cabin. Glass-paned shields protected
the driver from the winter’s biting wind and insects that had achieved a new level of proportional
velocity at such a level as to bruise flesh to their own detriment. Nemiah had found that out the
hard way.
“What are we watching?” Alluin scrutinized as the boy held the leads on the engine control
panel and nervously fidgeted as the train hummed to life, gears clicking away.
“Would you like to step on or load people on?” Nemiah smiled but Alluin declined, which
he came to regret quite soon after when the engine completed the circle and went for another and
another, drawing the attention of the curious from townships away, all wanting to see the thalm
engine.
Having his soldiers gallivant about giving booze away to people to spread rumors of the
thalm engine had been a wonderful idea. People all over swarmed to see and ride the horseless
carriage, to be one of the first to travel by blacksteel rail.
Several laps around the rail later and the king, presumably thinking better of the machine’s
safety, rather insistently demanded to be let on, occupying the sole carriage of it, with Nemiah in
tow.
 Together, they sat on padded benches, given a little luxury in posture and a post to hold on
to.
The original guard, who’d touted a mere two thalms, continued the track several more times
before the king sniffed in doubt once more.
“I welcome all questions.” Nemiah gestured around the inside of their carriage, reinforced to
hold up to the uneven tracks and long distances, unlike a horse-drawn carriage. Despite the
outside being relatively bland for his tastes, he’d made the inside as tasteful as he could. But, the
extent of taste of the Drashili was limited to their aesthetics. Creatures of darkness in a land
where color didn’t happen often, if not for the shadows of the mountains themselves, for the
reddish hue of the plants thrived amid earth as dark as night. Even the stone, rich in blacksteel,
held little color. It was no surprise that the interior leaked style, with what little concept his
designers had for high fashion or the aesthetics of nobles. The bare walls held burnished brass
findings over the rivets, the benches covered in a rich velvet, and the ceiling had been gracefully
painted in a cool gray tone.
“There’s a lot left to be desired, but I’m uncertain that someone with so few thalms can keep
this thing running.” The king crossed his legs. “Are you certain there’s no battery or storage
keeping this thing rolling?”
Nemiah smiled. “None whatsoever. When his power runs course, the train will run down and
he’ll switch out. The track should run 150 or so laps with his power. Give or take, since this train
is unloaded. But I do see your gaze. We are dreadfully dower, Drashili. It comes with the
darkness.”
King Alluin nodded in agreement. “Perhaps Virion will be at home there. Their pallor limits
their ability to tolerate the sun. Their sight suffers when it is too bright.”
Nemiah regarded his fingernails as if that dreaded piece of dry skin were of more concern
than the statement. “Perhaps he will be more amicable than you say.”
“I want a week with this machine and to have my own engineers see to a redesign of the
presence of it before I will put the name of Liaberos on it. What features cannot be altered?”
Alluin stood as the train slowed to a stop where the carriages they’d arrived in waited, and
surveyed the space before dismounting over the artistically welded steps, each slippered plod of
a foot ringing through the joinery.
 “It has to have an exhaust for the heat like a chimney near the thalmic engine. The wheels
need to be spoked and made of blacksteel as well as the frame and the rails.” Nemiah
disembarked in tow and clasped his hands behind his back, the leather over his shoulders and
chest creaking in place. “Telling you this may fall upon already burdened ears though. I’ll have
my engineers stay with you for a time to design what you wish.”
“For the sum of money you’ve asked for, and what we stand to gain from this union—I
cannot complain about your geniality and openness. I regret making my child part of the deal but
do understand you need an heir and I need rid of them. They’re growing too old to be unwed.”
“I believe I can take care of them.”
“Good. Virion is being packed up at the moment and entering isolation for his husband. Part
of our binding rights, you see.” The glimmer in Alluin’s eyes did not go unnoticed. Blood ties
would cement his pact and word, for a bonded couple could not break their vows. Nemiah’s
stomach knotted, but such was the price his father had forced him to pay.
“As it must be. I look forward to uniting with you and ending this violence. My soldiers
need jobs.” Nemiah swore internally.
“But we’ll lay witness to the binding, as is tradition.” The casual way he said it made
Nemiah’s stomach clench.
“Part of our binding is to unite intimately, you understand. Night fae do as the lovers do at
night—”
Alluin raised a hand dismissively. “And we do as well. But this union is special. It must be
witnessed to be legitimate. Understood?” He strode purposefully to his carriage and Nemiah
followed him.
“I certainly have understood you, but I cannot say it pleases me to copulate before my
family.” Nemiah’s upper lip curled.
“Once he’s out of isolation and purified, we’ll have the ceremony. I’m as eager to send him
your way once we prove this machine worth it as you are to receive my backing. Understood?”
Alluin grinned wide, and had his teeth been sharp as wolves’, it would not have shocked
Nemiah.
He was cruel.
 But Nemiah knew what cruelness was, had been raised by a father that pillaged and took
women outside of his wife by force if necessary. So, he had learned to be something more than
cruel—clever.
“I’ll see you bound, so there’s no chance of another bastard.” Alluin rested his hands
genially in his lap.
Nemiah bit his tongue. “My father and mother could not conceive. They merely used the
belly of another to bring me into their family. I am of noble lineage and my thalms are measured
at twenty-six.”
Alluin snorted heavily and glanced toward Nemiah with a calculating glare. “If you can
demonstrate proof of that, I’d very much be proud to say my child had been united with someone
with twenty-six thalms.”
“Sure. Bring me a measuring device of your choosing, and I’ll show my prowess.” Nemiah
offered his best smile and Alluin sneered, eager to prove him a fool. Nemiah, though, did not tell
lies. He told the truth, even when the truth wouldn’t be believed.
True love was not Nemiah’s finding, but the notion was merely fancy. He had machines to
sell and a kingdom to rebuild.
 Chapter Three
Virion

The time before a bearer’s wedding was supposed to be one of the most exciting moments of
their life, or so Vir had been told. He had to wait a month’s time in isolation, fed and watered
only from a small slot in the door like a prisoner and kept free of contaminants.
Cock.
Twice daily, he’d be given honeythistle water and fresh fruit and vegetables, which at their
time of year had a poor selection. Thirty days on tubers, blood turnips, and daybells with their
thin skin, mealy fruit and somewhat sweet aftertaste had done no favors to his already thin body,
and had the palace any rodents, he’d have seized one for just a taste of meat.
He’d been told to sit in quiet meditation, thinking of ways to please his husband to come. He
would need to be chaste and comely. Monogamous and fuckable. His husband would require
service from him. Sex and emotional labor. And he would be a shining star at his husband’s side.
An accessory to ogle. Though, none of that could have been the real reason the purification
existed. It was merely a waiting period to prove they weren’t pregnant by another male before
being wed off, but Vir was smart and always took precautions.
Despite his lack of the nightflower for his preparatory tea to prevent conception, he avoided
sex during his fertile times, even though conception with a beta was rare, and he never sought
after an alpha, as that could have him labeled unclean. Nemiah would change all of it though.
He’d rut with Virion before the court and knot him shamelessly. The sheer dread of the moment
sickened him.
His silent anguish made the time pass quickly, until the day that bright light entered his
chambers and they announced he’d be transported to Drashil immediately. On that last walk
through the castle, servants he’d known his entire life cast their gazes away from him. Drashil
soldiers, females, escorted him to bid his loved ones farewell before entering the carriage.
Though they found nobody waiting for him.
The ride had been a quiet one, with a driver in the front navigating the road, swapping with
his guards, who refused to speak to him day and night. Their stern expressions never wavered in
duty, only when he attempted to speak, flickering between unease and frustration.
 “What is Nemiah like?” he asked. No answer. No questions about his favorite things or the
kingdom. Only cold indifference.
For three days and two nights, he traveled so.
Despite being near starved, they’d fed him little, and the lack of sleep had him stumbling on
his feet while being ushered about like a felon, shoved into a world with dark skies, a sun
shadowed by mountains and clouded with the soot of forges.
Dressed in pale-pink silk to match his eyes, he’d not been permitted to change until he
arrived, escorted along sleek cobblestone walkways into a castle jutting from the face of a
mountain. Each brick stood out in sharp relief as a façade that drew Vir into halls carved from the
very stone of the interior itself.
Where in his father’s keep, his steps echoed from bare walls and cavernous displays of
ostentatious construction, the walls there hummed with muted sounds, the echoes muffled by
countless tapestries and portraits. Were Vir in a state to fuss, he’d demand they slow down and
inspect the artwork, grander than those on display in their great library back home. There, history
was to be hidden. In his husband-to-be’s home? History was there to be seen.
Vir had learned not to ask or talk in his days of journey, his gut clenching every bit tighter as
he neared a wing of the castle that opened with tall and ornate steel doors. The things they did
with blacksteel had grown into an art form in and of itself. He reached a hand out, fingers
trembling as they neared the door, but the steel swung away and the guards stopped. Vir hesitated
for but a moment until soft gasps and ethereal voices swept around him before warm, dainty
hands cupped his arms and shoulders in a flurry of muted, pale colors.
Nymphs…
The creatures were uncommon in his land, not in servitude, at least. They lived free lives
among the forests and rarely ventured into the cities. Among the well-lit halls, all dressed in
sparse greenery, they stood out like shining gems, their skin ethereal shades of pastel colors and
clothes the mere gauzy remnants of fabric and plant. Vir was one artemisia mugwort leaf away
from seeing a rather pert nipple, he was certain, when a lavender-skinned nymph reached out for
him. “Good morning, Virion.”
“Address him appropriately. They are Blessed Prince Virion of Liaberos,” one of the female
soldiers that had escorted him there said. She lifted her chin ever so lightly, the chain mail cowl
at her neck clinking.
 “He is in our land, warrior. We recognize no princes. No king, no lord, or master but one. Be
gone.” A pink-skinned nymph with flowing light-pink locks curled amid clover shooed the two
away and slammed the door. “Foolish bloodshedders. You are an innocent soul and do not need
titles, do you, Virion?”
“N-no.” Virion stared at her, taking in her misty eyes full of a penetrating energy, much as
the forest nymphs from his own kingdom.
“Of course not. Look at him. Tired and starved. Ghoulish cleansing,” The lavender one with
mugwort leaves nestled between her legs and circling her chest said.
The pink one with clover cooed, and she gestured for Vir to walk. A green one floated about
nearby, her coverings that of fox ivy, the leaves small and curious.
“It is lovely to meet you. I have not your names, so might I call you Ivy, Clover, and
Artemis?” He respectfully pointed to the green, pink, and purple one in turn.
Ivy, he called for the ivy covering her shame, beamed. “A well-educated and polite boy. You
know better; I’m impressed.”
Artemis curled about him, her form insubstantial but tangible as she floated by. “I might
have given him my name for free, but I like his name better. I accept it.”
“Accept? I think that’s the best thing. Not too clever a name, but Nemiah wasn’t much
cleverer.” Clover laughed. “He calls me Blush.”
“And me, he calls Violet,” Artemis said, gesturing to Ivy. “And she’s called Jade.”
“Not anymore.” Jade turned her nose up. “I favor Ivy.”
The exchange brought a soft smile to Virion’s lips. Strange to this new world, it was nice to
see nymphs so happy. “I’m glad. I would never be so foolish to ask your name from you. I have
manners.” And common sense. Names cost more than people were willing to pay, always.
“As you have my name already, I am to assume you were told I was coming?” Vir followed
their gentle guidance until faced with a rather pretty set of engraved doors.
“We were informed to have your room ready for you.” Clover pushed the door open, her
pink fingers spreading across the dark, ornate metal. Behind lay a rather grim domicile with a
luxurious but small bed and rich rugs woven and shorn a color as dark as the juice of elderberries
in fall. Between one step and the next as he entered, he was stripped of his pale slippers.
“Not my husband-to-be’s room, then?” Vir peered about the space, eyes lingering on walls
that were all but bare, while still devoid of details. Instead of ornamentation, thick wall hangings
draped the dark stone. The rich color of darkest black interwove with more of that pitch berry
color in a variegated pattern that brought something akin to harmony to the room.
“We wouldn’t allow that. You’re not wed yet and for that, you’re not even bound or in love.”
Artemis waved a lavender hand dismissively and rolled her eyes. “That’s more dangerous than
I’d like.”
Virion sucked in a sharp breath, freezing in his place. He’d heard many things about the
former king, Behran. “Is being with him that dangerous?”
“No more dangerous than any other Drashili king. It comes with the territory.” Ivy frowned,
her misty eyes, no pupils to speak of, glimmering at him like two opalescent stones. “I don’t
envy you.”
Vir hadn’t expected any different. In his days of isolation, it’d been a never-ending torment
of all the horrific stories he’d heard of Nemiah’s father, the elder king and his dozen concubines,
his lonely wife. And in all of it, Vir wondered whether he’d be the concubine or the wife that had
to watch the violence pass. Or, even worse, would Behran take an interest in him? Would
Nemiah grow bored and toss him aside? He could only hope for the best.
“Surely Behran is worse?” Vir cringed as the words tumbled from his lips.
“Fortunate you are that Nemiah disposed of him not three months ago. He’s being crowned
as we speak, he is.” Clover’s mouth twisted in distaste, a cute pout of ever-pink lips. Her dark
lashes fluttered, pink hair swimming about her shoulders as she floated by, delicate hands tracing
his arms.
“I had no idea.” Vir’s hair stood on end, body shivering at the thought. “Shouldn’t I be there
to witness his coronation?”
“You should let us dress you and be ready for your ceremony after. You’re exhausted and the
Liaberians wish to witness the spectacle of your mating.”
Vir’s stomach knotted at the thought, but he’d been mentally prepared for that moment since
he was a young lad forced to witness his first royal ceremony. The omega closed his eyes tight,
reciting something under his breath until his new husband had locked in. After they separated, he
gathered his clothes and ran away and nobody ever said anything about it again. Vir told himself
he’d do the same when time came, if he couldn’t put his father off indefinitely. Half the problem
was that he’d never found a male worth suffering that indignity for. “Don’t remind me.”
 “It is not their way, that is for certain. The Black King was never secretive about his affairs,
but he did not flout his manhood about. Certainly not about us.” Clover sniffed indignantly and
Ivy nodded in agreement.
“In that way they are more civilized than I.” Virion nodded as a comb found its way through
his unraveling hair.
“Oh.” The three women unwound his strands. “Finer strands I’ve never seen. They’re
diamond pale and ever so soft.” Ivy’s green hand slid down his arm to strip the sleeve of his robe
away. The belt unraveled and went elsewhere.
“And so pale. You could be one of us, fair moon lily,” Artemis cooed as she took the robe
away and traced slender, warm fingers down his back. “I’ll go fetch a washbasin.”
“It comes with my bloodline. Are one of you to be my handmaiden?”
A series of giggles swept about as Ivy returned with a washbasin and cloth, drawing with it a
heavy scent of lavender.
“Or not. I’m not incapable of caring for myself, but having a guide for a time might help.”
Vir gasped as the cold, wet cloth touched his skin.
“Nemiah has asked us three to tend you. No prince of this kingdom is limited to one
handmaid. I thought Liaberos to be a wealthy nation.” Artemis frowned as she drew the cold
cloth around. “Apologies for the temperature.”
“And I should thank my husband-to-be for your company and service.” Vir tensed but didn’t
move. “Is there no time to warm the water?”
“We could, but cold water will wake you better and ebb the swelling a little from your ride.”
Clover hummed as the cloth roamed and his hair swept up and away.
“I doubt my back is s-swollen.” Vir huffed as the cloth moved and his pants fell to the floor,
exposing his undergarments that he’d worn for three days. He’d been permitted to take so little
with him that a second pair of undergarments hadn’t been permitted. They too fell away, but Vir
had long since known not to be shy.
“Or your manhood. Sisters, he is very cold.” Clover giggled and eyed a rather glib Ivy.
“None have ever accused me of being a man. And I am a perfectly respectable size when
engaged. Thank you.” Vir gasped as the cold rag went south and cupped his ass with a fervent
and fragrant scrub.
 “But you are a man.” Ivy hummed as she made him raise his arms, and Artemis combed and
worked his hair. “Or do you identify else wise?”
“I would love to be considered a man. But in Liaberos, omegas aren’t considered male. We
are other.” Vir’s stomach twisted.
Artemis made a soft noise and raked her fingers through his hair, undoing his braid work.
“Then we’ll do your hair as a man. Nemiah was under the impression you viewed yourself as
other when he spoke to us, but I saw it in your eyes that you wanted to be male.”
“As are the ways of nymphs. I’ve not spent much time with your kind, but I know you feel
our hearts.” Vir adjusted his stance as a giggling Ivy slid him into a new pair of undergarments.
“Such are we few that love a man. We are not welcome back into our forests once our loves
pass on.” Clover sighed. “We’re stuck here, among men we’ll never love, but the crown has
always been lovely to us in some ways.”
“So that is true? You are bound to our kind forever if you ever fall in love with a fae?” Vir
lifted a leg as a pair of pleasantly stiff pants of a smooth material were presented to him.
“Or a human,” Artemis added. “We need to be bound in service if we do not live with our
kind. We bind ourselves in service to a man if we fall in love, and once they die, we must find
someone to serve. Since we’ll never love again…”
“It’s easier to go in service to a crown because they are wealthy and we are kept well.”
Clover smoothed his hair gently.
As a new set of fine robes slid over his arms, a dark and silvery gray that complemented his
pale features, he examined them, the way the sleeves hung and instead of being made from
draping fabric weighted not to flutter. It was tailored more to fit. While still not the clothes of a
warrior, it held the laxity made for omegas, the robes easy to adjust for growing bellies in time.
The idea had been a sweet one at a time, but as he grew, he examined every male presented to
him as the potential sperm donor to the child he’d bear… He thought twice about it.
Thinking of bearing a child for Nemiah brought cold indifference. The male hadn’t been
cruel to him yet. But, Virion had accepted his fate, obligated to bear a dusk child, one born of the
night fae and sun fae. If anything, his long weeks of isolation had helped him resign himself to
that fate.
“You appear scared?” Ivy drew him toward a mirror to stare at him over his shoulder, her
misty eyes kind.
 “I don’t know him. I’m terrified.” Vir glanced at his reflection and the panic in him settled
for a blink. The clothing looked more masculine, his hair woven in a man’s braid. The darker
color on him had been done so well that it didn’t wash him out. So when Clover leaned in with a
fine brush to swipe silvery mica over and under his eyes, he could only feel assured that he
would have their company, at least.
“You will accustom yourself to him in time.” Artemis fretted with his hair and pinched his
cheeks a little to bring color to them, fruitlessly, as he stared at a small bottle palmed in her hand.
Lover’s oil. “In more ways than one.”
As the small bottle slipped into his pocket, the weight hung there far heavier than he’d
thought. A whimper of fear escaped his lips.
“It’s to oil yourself before he—” Clover giggled, interrupted.
“I know what lover’s oil is for, thank you! I am not untouched.” Virion’s shoulders tensed
and the women glanced between one another nervously.
“You are not a virgin?” Ivy trailed her hands down his arms, smoothing imaginary wrinkles.
“Virgin to alpha, yes. But I’ve experimented with betas. Is my husband untouched?” Vir
scoffed, and the girls shook their heads.
“Lovers, he’s had a few. Excuse me.” Ivy pulled away and left the room with a knowing
look at the other girls that did nothing to ease Virion’s nerves.
Artemis kissed the top of Vir’s head with an affectionate gesture, one far more motherly than
he’d known in a long while. “Nemiah has given us to you as a gift. We will care for you. Worry
not, for we dress all wounds, even of the heart.”
A soft knock at the door turned heads as Clover went to check. She glanced back at Vir and
smiled. Even if a little forced, it brought Vir some comfort. He’d lost Pilki, who’d not even made
eye contact with him upon his departure. His siblings had been nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’d
see them at the wedding, preferably not at the consummation.
“The sooner it’s over with, the sooner you can rest, child.” Clover shooed him out into the
care of the soldiers.
Vir took a deep breath as Artemis slid new slippers onto him, much the way they’d taken the
ones he’d arrived in. Every step forward would be a first from there.
 Chapter Four
Nemiah

Nemiah held his chin aloft as the crown sat weighty upon his unhidden horns. As firstborn,
and only son of King Behran, he’d been next in line for the throne.
Patricide and Fratricide were the norm, so it fazed nobody that he’d drawn his own sword
and impaled his gormless father, who had grown irrational to the point of bankrupting their
kingdom in the name of war.
A poet stood tall before him, facing the crowd to entertain them with the history of his
people, a stanza added for him as the bringer of burning smoke to their lands, the inventor of the
thalmway. A bringer of peace. And hopefully prosperity. He crossed his legs dispassionately. The
sooner this was all over with, the sooner he could get back to his laboratory and work on the
improvements that King Alluin had recommended.
A bony elbow nudged his side, and he sat up straight.
“The least you could do is look less like you’ve sucked an unripe citronelia.” His mother
elbowed him again.
Her lavish jewelry had grown thin over the last few years, sold off to pay debts. The sight of
it made Nemiah’s heart twinge with sorrow, and he vowed to lavish her with all she deserved one
day soon. “I apologize,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “I’ve never been a fan of show.”
She whispered in return, hand held to block her lips. “Well, you’ll be a fan of showing your
tadger in a few minutes. Look alive. Your betrothed is being readied.”
Nemiah barely stifled a cough of disgust. He’d bartered his heart for this deal for the
kingdom, and perhaps war could continue at a later date, but they needed prosperity instead of
death. It didn’t matter though. His mother never cared much that she was not his father’s
ordained, but she wore her crown with pride as she watched the assembled court. Her pale eyes
held none of the darkness of his own, her hair a river of deepest steel, much like her silvery-hued
skin. She’d grown weak her last few years, unloved by his father, sick from depression.
Like his mother, he had to remind himself that Virion was as much of a victim to this as any
of them. His father taught them that even if an arranged marriage wasn’t love, it was obligation.
Obligation to make sure your partner knows their value and that they deserve happiness, too.
 Since his death, she’d gained a small amount of color, and brightness had returned to her
eyes.
“Don’t remind me, Mother. I’m sure we’ll reach an agreement in time, but I’m absolutely
disgusted by the barbarity of this whole debacle. Am I not binding my soul to them before
everyone?” Nemiah tilted his head back, the weight of his horn adornments clanging against the
throne.
“You are, but I don’t think Alluin rather likes his child much to begin with. You may bond
over that. Unsuitable fathers.” His mother rolled her eyes.
“Queen Kiara, will you escort our new King to his quarters while we ready the Blessed
Prince for his ceremony?” An attendant bowed shortly and addressed them as the poet
immediately finished.
A round of forced and quiet applause rippled the gathered people, heading toward one of his
private sitting rooms. His capelet of black feathers rustled unpleasantly when he flopped into a
soft armchair.
“How will you woo the omega?” His mother stared him down as she strode in, dark skirts
swimming about her slender ankles.
“Honestly, with King Alluin for a father, my worst may yet woo them into providing me a
dozen heirs.” Nemiah snorted.
The fragrant aroma of fresh foliage wafted by him a moment before the doorway shadowed
with the soft and dainty form of his former attendants. “Nemiah.”
“Jade? Is there an issue?” Nemiah gave her a penetrating stare, no patience left for the
playful imps.
“Your lover has given us new names. I am Ivy, and Blush is now Clover, and Violet is now
Artemis.” She bowed her head. “As you have assigned us to him, we accepted his names. He’s a
very sweet child.”
Ah, so he identifies as male. That neutral designation for omegas was another of the barbaric
indecencies the Liaberians inflicted upon their omegas.
“I’m certain he is. Now, what is the issue?” Nemiah waved his hand as he studied her face as
it twisted with worry.
She floated over, a mask of grace as her lips brushed the shell of his ear with a whisper. “He
is no virgin, Nemiah. No alphas though.”
 Nemiah rolled his eyes and sighed with relief. “Thank you, old friend. Has his purification
gone to plan?”
“Oh, no issues with that, sir.” She smiled, her lips pursed flatly. “He’s weak and tired and
utterly starved.”
“After this disgusting display, I’ll make sure that he eats well. Did you take measurements
while dressing him? I won’t have him flitting about in that awful effeminate garb. He’ll dress
warmly and comfortably to his tastes unless he is to be at my side in public.”
“We did. Thank you, Nemiah.” She bowed and flowed free of his study.
Part of him held a twisted sickness in his gut for the display that was coming, but knowing
his mate was no virgin made it easier. The omega having had his ass taken before, to know what
to expect, made things so much easier.
At least this won’t be the first time he is touched, this emotionally scarring thing.
Nemiah sat in dread until the fanfare played for his mate being brought in.
He took a sip of a goblet of water nearby and sighed before shrugging at his mother to
follow. She’d cast their binding and make it whole.
Two steps into the grand hall, he caught sight of the male, gaze narrowing. He’d been
adorned in a steely silver, an utter complement to his insubstantial colors. The pink of his eyes
practically bored into him as the soft music of marriage played on a flute nearby. He truly was a
sight to behold, and Nemiah had thought he’d grow to detest that paleness. But as he strode
forward, dressed far better than he had been before, a pang of interest fluttered somewhere south
of his navel, but not quite into his cock.
Without hesitation, Nemiah stood in place to welcome his future mate and husband.
Where Virion’s father was to guide him to the altar, there stood no one. His father, Alluin,
sat front row, not even glancing back at Virion, while his two other children sat primly at his
side. Saria and Seidrik, if he remembered correctly. The two had been pains in his ass he’d rue
having to spend more time with if his relationship with the prince worked out. Though, the more
he saw how little they cared about Virion, the more Nemiah wanted to keep the boy to spite
them. As it was in his contract, he had to maintain his marriage with Virion to substantiate their
deal.
The ceremony was nothing, though, compared to what they were to do to cement that claim.
 Resignation flashed in those pink eyes—shame, fear. Nemiah cast his gaze away from the
male so not to suffer himself the emotion such a sight would bring. He found it hard not to scold
Alluin for the shameful display, but as Virion took the first steps forward, small shaking ones on
dainty feet, Nemiah couldn’t contain his grin.
Virion’s eyes flashed like pink freshwater pearls when their gazes met, but he continued his
timid steps without faltering. Despite his fear, he showed braveness, or he feared Nemiah far less
than what he endured at home. But it mattered not as Virion’s feet crossed rich red velvet the
color of bloodstains, his robes brushing and fitted over his slim form a little lax, a product of the
purification he had no doubt.
Timid rabbit. A violent urge swam in Nemiah’s belly to chase and hunt, to rut and play with
him, but he tamped it down as the sweet scent of lavender water and the underlying aroma of a
powerful omega gripped him as much as the faint blush in his cheeks.
Nemiah’s mother, who had raised him since birth, swept in as they faced one another, her
stern gaze shifting from Virion to Nemiah in warning, as if threatening him with grievous bodily
harm if he were to harm a hair on the poor rabbit’s head.
She reached forward and took their hands, holding their palms together, crossing bodies so
their right hands both joined.
“We gather here this evening to welcome into the night a new child of the sun as a gift to the
moon, an omega by right a Blessed Prince of Liaberos in holy union to King Nemiah of Drashil,
who succeeds his father this day.” She studiously withdrew a silken ribbon of blackest thread to
tie their hands.
Nemiah barely noticed the ribbon as their eyes met. That timidness stayed in Virion’s eyes,
his fear plain, but he did not relent his gaze into Nemiah’s eyes, so deep they could have been
reading his very soul. Magic tingled at his fingertips where their warm palms joined, and the
buzz Nemiah welcomed into himself far surpassed his twenty-six thalms. It had to if Nemiah felt
it so strongly. He chanced a slight stroke of his thumb around the back of Virion’s unsteady hand
and let their magics touch more, savoring the utter sensation. Had Virion’s father known all the
thalms his child possessed, he’d have never given him up so easily.
“And as your hands are bound in symbolism, you touch your magic to learn one another by
spirit.” Kiara nudged Nemiah to bring his left hand forth, to slip between the folds of Virion’s
robes to rest on his warm chest. His beating heart fluttered like the wings of a sugarmoth, and
even his eyes reminded Nemiah of their precious wings.
When Kiera guided Virion’s hand to complete the circuit, he gasped so sweetly, those pale
lips trembling as pearlescent tined horns like those of a young buck rose from his carefully
braided locks, styled in the manner of a male, another sign that he preferred the gender. The
soured expressions on Virion’s family’s faces didn’t waver when his wings pushed free of the
tailored slits in his robes. And just like the moth that Nemiah had surmised, he had white wings,
tinged at the edges with a glorious pink and palest brown.
The warmth of his small palm slipping into Nemiah’s shirt made his breath shudder and jaw
clench. He had to fight the urges this boy made him feel. Their binding was only just being put in
place, and he craved the thing like a beggar craved coin.
Sweet Sugarmoth. My little rabbit, how I will hunt you in the skies like a hawk and feel you
cry beneath my bite. Nemiah’s tickle of arousal for the male grew further south until his cock
traitorously twitched.
Fuck.
“Speak the names of our goddesses and exchange your vows before blood will be shared.”
Kiara pulled a pearl-tipped needle from within her blouse and stood ready.
Nemiah stared intently into Virion’s eyes, focusing so hard on not feeling that strange desire.
“Before the moon, I declare my loyalty to you. In her name I will keep thee.”
Virion took a shuddering breath, the tinge of blush in his cheeks growing. His heart skipped
a beat beneath Nemiah’s fingers and he spoke. “As my goddess goes to sleep, setting on this day,
I step into the goddess of the moon’s keep, under her protection and into the arms of my alpha.
As you keep me, so shall also I tend thee.”
Nemiah extended his tongue and lowered his eyelids as Kiara pricked the tip. Virion’s
beautifully pink tongue extended, held by timid teeth as Kiara pricked his as well. Nemiah
wasted no time in pulling the slender male in, their hands moving. Nemiah held a hand fisted at
Virion’s back, crushed in his corporeal wing bases, the other cupping his face. Virion, uncertain,
clutched the front of Nemiah’s robes and whimpered when their mouths met.
His lips were soft, effeminately so, but his jaw held strong and firm, clearly a man’s.
Substantial. Their lips pressed firmly. Two lovers unsure of one another sank into a gentle
exchange of tongue that sent boiling heat south with an intensity so strong that Nemiah no longer
feared he wouldn’t be able to perform.
The kiss ended as they pulled apart to the polite clapping of the audience. Virion drew his
eyes away from him and the crowd, staring at their feet while their bond settled into place.
Nemiah had been told it would be intense, that it’d make him vulnerable to the poor boy’s every
whim, but Nemiah was stronger and had to withstand his disgusting urges to have him no matter
who was to witness.
He glanced toward his mother, whose expression bore a hint of wariness to it.
“And to all, I now pronounce them bound and united under care of the moon and her
subjects. As you two are now unified, please continue to the other room to finish the traditions of
our Silver Prince Virion’s people.” Kiara held her hands aloft.
“Silver Prince?” Virion mouthed the word, his eyes wide and stunned, but Nemiah could
only respond by hefting him into his arms. Bedamned who’d witness the debauchery, Nemiah
would do right by him.
 Chapter Five
Virion

Virion’s heart raced in his chest, one step away from vacating his body as Nemiah carried
him toward the consummation chamber. Each step jarred a little more realization into his heart,
reminding him he was moments away from the king taking him for his courts to witness. The last
memory his family and officials might ever have of him would be bent over for his alpha king,
knotted and sobbing.
The scent of raging alpha desire did not escape Vir. His natural scent had an edge of steel
lined with a soap of some sort, musky and rich. Were it any other circumstance, Virion might
enjoy it.
The room they entered had been thrown together haphazardly. Despite the bed having rich
linens and the wall hangings in neat place, it lacked personal touches. Then, with the presence of
the incoming guests, it had far too many personal touches.
To not make eye contact with those he knew, he forced his gaze downward. He’d thought the
gesture rather timid and sweet when he’d first seen an omega consummated. At that moment,
though, Virion knew the gesture for what it was: disgust.
An attendant came by and laid a white cloth over the bed as the gathering witnesses grew
silent. A rough voice commanded them to commence, and Virion forced himself to dissociate.
Timidly, Virion cast his gaze to his husband, absorbing the feral heat snarled across his face,
his wolfish teeth bared in what could only have been disgust. Virion cast his gaze back down in
response and drew his robes away, parting the ties to lay them over a valet rack left just for that
purpose.
With an almost predatory growl, Nemiah invaded his space. Virion retrieved the bottle from
his pocket and handed it to Nemiah, a gesture of placation that interrupted his tense posture. “My
king. If so you choose to use this. Please do.” The latter he said far quieter.
Nemiah took the bottle from Virion’s trembling fingers, that expression twisting into
something cruel and predatory. His gaze deviated from Virion’s face to travel his body and flick
elsewhere, toward the gathering people that Virion was too ashamed to look at.
 Not wanting to look or wait, Virion drew his pants open, letting the fabric pool around his
feet, undergarments next before he turned, keeping his eyes down as he approached the side of
the bed and bent forward, splaying his ankles. Eyes closed, Virion waited, his heart beating so
fast it almost vibrated in his chest. Each breath came sharper and tenser than the next.
Coarse fabric brushed the back of Virion’s thighs, fabric moving as buckles and buttons
jangled. Gritting his teeth, Virion bunched his fists into the sheets and whimpered when hot flesh
brushed his backside, a hard shape that must have been his cock brushing his inner thigh.
“Please…” Virion’s breath of a whimper fizzled out on his tongue.
Please hurry.
Please stop.
Please don’t?
Virion wasn’t sure what he wanted when he heard the pop of the bottle’s stopper and the
rich, heady scent of lover’s oil flowed with the light wafts of his alpha’s fragrance.
Pointed nails traced his scalp, sharp but not painfully so. It was almost comforting for a
fraction of a moment before they clenched, hair pulled back as Nemiah leaned forward, his hot
breath whispering shakily in his ear. “You—will bleed.”
Every muscle in Virion’s body clenched tight, but his cock traitorously hardened. “Don’t
hurt me.” The whisper left Virion’s lip in a breath.
If Nemiah heard him, he said nothing, but his hard, heavy cock spoke volumes for his desire
as it rubbed fretfully along Virion’s backside. The sheets creaked in Virion’s fists when Nemiah
pulled his hair again and adjusted his hips. “Close your thighs.” His heady, gruff growl made
Virion jump to obey. “Do not let them see you cry. That’s not for them to see.”
Virion’s eyes stung, and he hadn’t realized that tears had readied themselves. He took a
breath and between one and the next, Nemiah’s thumb brushed his hole, sending a flutter through
his belly, cock jerking up hard against his stomach. Before Virion could make a sound, the thick
heat of Nemiah’s cock thrust between his thighs, rutting along his tender space between balls and
hole, grazing his omega’s shame. Where an alpha’s balls hung low and fat, and a beta’s swelled
with pride, an omega’s balls were barely two mounds nestled against the root of his shaft. They
were sensitive and blossomed with nerves as Nemiah thrust again, hips slapping home.
Vir clenched his jaw, waiting for Nemiah to fuck into him, to loosen his hole and thrust in,
leaving him sore. His thighs tightened, distracting Vir from the audience. Each pump made
Nemiah growl and thrust harder, flesh smacking flesh until a sharp pain seared against his hole.
The burn of intrusion, the finger, likely his thumb, resting at his hole pushing in just the tip,
sharp nail carelessly unwelcome there. Despite the pain, Vir’s body responded, his cock bucking
against his belly and, from the cool sensation, dripped.
Nemiah’s thick cock pumped between his thighs, rubbing in that sensitive spot, providing
only the barest pleasure made Virion’s lust blossom. Despite not wanting to enjoy the
experience, his cock disagreed. The tingle at the base of his spine pulsed. Lightning kissed the tip
of his cock. Virion hissed and choked, the sensation rushing over him as his husband grunted, the
base of Nemiah’s cock swelling, rubbing the back of his thighs as he bent forward, draping over
Virion’s back.
Hot cum pulsed down Virion’s thighs, his own and Nemiah’s, his heavy breath rugged and
beaten.
Vir’s cheeks burned, the sweaty, warm weight of his alpha, his king and husband draped
over his back, having come without even penetrating him. “Shh.” Nemiah shuddered and made a
show of pulling away from him. In the process, his hand scooped between Vir’s legs and
smeared their combined lust all the way along his crease, slicking his hole with it.
Cold air traded places with Nemiah’s warm body. Virion wondered for a moment whether
Nemiah would continue, thrust into him without warning. A flurry of footsteps behind him
tempted Vir into opening his eyes, glancing over to witness, but he refrained.
Eerie silence filled the space before a rustle of clothes.
“The agreement is sealed!” An unfamiliar voice declared and Vir didn’t dare look yet.
Soft clothes draped his shoulders as a warm cloth cleaned him, his hole still stinging from
the sharp intrusion of his finger. Against all common sense, he opened his eyes once clothed,
ashamed of what’d transpired. The white cloth they’d fucked on hung from his father’s
attendant’s hands, a streak of blood smeared along it. He’d never seen that part of the ceremony
before.
Vir turned his back on the observers and drew into himself as Nemiah gestured him away.
He’d not meant to come like a springling, shooting over mere frotting. Whatever had happened,
though, appeased the crowd. “Why didn’t…”
 “Because I didn’t want to.” Nemiah tucked a few errant locks of hair out of Vir’s eyes and
smoothed his hand over stray hairs. “Now look presentable. I promised the nymphs I’d feed you
before I send you back to your room.”
He patted Vir’s back and guided them toward the main dining hall, the journey a blur of
confusion.
He didn’t want to… Vir couldn’t shake that feeling from his gut, nor the confusion that
followed.
With each numb step, he closed in on the table, steered away from the lower seating where
his father usually sat him and at one point, his mother when she was alive.
“Don’t make me look a fool, Virion. You sit at my side.” Nemiah steered Virion into place at
the head of the table, the chair there, ostentatious and padded with dark velvet. Before Vir could
reach for the chair to pull it out, Nemiah himself pulled the seat back and gestured for Vir to sit
before pushing him in as a servant would the king. Shameful heat burned his cheeks as Nemiah
pulled his own chair out and sat. “Welcome all. I thank you for attending my wedding.”
“And fornication,” someone muttered from Nemiah’s side of the table, earning a huff of
annoyance from him.
“Customs are different between our cultures. I did what was necessary to appease his family,
as my husband’s family has tolerated our customs that may seem strange to them. Our exchange
of blood and binding is not familiar with them.” Nemiah offered a flat-lipped smile, directing his
fierce blue eyes, almost glowing from black sclera, toward Virion’s father. King Alluin returned
the smile with a terse nod, his expression sour.
“It appears so. I’m looking forward to our growing bond between nations and will feel much
better when you have an heir to pass your secrets onto.” Alluin sat back when an attendant
whisked by with a decanter of wine and poured glass after glass along the line into fine silver
trimmed crystal goblets. He swilled the contents as he did at home, as many poisons tarnished
silver.
“As I look forward to our wars ending. My father’s goals were not my own. I have
ambitions to spread our nation without a heavy fist, but with a prosperous wheel. I’ve negotiated
peace and restitution. Our steel will take nations by commerce and leave life and fortune where
once we stole all. Small farming towns will become profitable hubs of trade. We can keep
livestock stores farther from our towns to reduce the foul odors. And we may eat the fruits of
faraway lands that we could only sip the wines of previously.” Nemiah raised his glass for a toast
and many cheered in response. “To my husband and the future of Drashil.”
Alluin didn’t return the toast with as much enthusiasm, Vir’s father’s attitude so often self-
centered and entitled. His eyes wandered the table and walls, up toward the ceiling, taking in
everything with a judgmental sneer. Virion could imagine all the hateful things his father would
say, things that he kept to himself for the time being. Despite the harrowing experience, Virion
felt a weight off his shoulders.
I am a husband, a male, regarded as something other than a fertile ass. I have three lovely
nymphs. So far, so good. Vir squeezed the arms of the chair he sat in and jolted when a larger
hand moved over and rested atop his. Vir glanced over, but Nemiah’s gaze focused elsewhere.
He wouldn’t even look at Vir after the display they’d had to make.
“I promised your girls I would feed you. Please be certain to eat or they will hassle me
endlessly.” Nemiah’s gaze flicked from person to person. Despite the joyous occasion of a new
king and a marriage, nobody seemed thrilled. Alluin should be thrilled to have rail, or Nemiah, a
husband and money. Instead, the event had all the finesse and heartfelt emotion of a particularly
savvy purchase of grain.
In that instance, Vir could only wonder if he were the coinage or the undervalued grain. As
an attendant swept by, filling his glass, others filed by laying out trays of hors d’oeuvres. And
despite the décor of the palace being dank and colorless, the food was anything but.
Little flakes of something green sat atop some sort of savory cream filling a roasted tomato.
With all of his own family’s ostentation, the food was rather bland. So, when Nemiah served
himself and Vir and passed the plate, he couldn’t resist reaching for the correct fork and flinching
at his father’s stern glare.
“Please,” Nemiah said, face unreadable as he grabbed Vir’s wrist. “Eat. You are my Silver
Prince. You sit at my side, here. I won’t look a fool not to hold you in esteem, right, Alluin?”
Vir’s father fumbled his fork, mouth open. A flash of confusion froze his face until he
blinked it away and slowly drew his lips flat once more. “Omegas… They are not… Virion…
Not proper.”
Nemiah hummed and snorted with amusement into his wine as he tilted it up for a lingering
sip. “You’re right. This exchange isn’t proper. Mother?” Nemiah leaned to his other side and
whispered to the queen, patting her hand with an almost comforting gesture.
 She nodded once and stood, drawing her dreary skirts.
Vir almost turned his gaze away, looking down at his plate with the rapidly cooling treat that
seemed even farther away from his lips.
“Come, Virion. Please. This is no place for you.” Queen Kiara’s stern expression made
Virion’s gut twist, and he cast his gaze down, finding Nemiah drawing his chair away. “We’ll eat
elsewhere.”
Vir found a warm hand on his shoulder, kindly guiding him out, not the doors of the main
entrance but through one of the servants’ entrances, politely dancing around an attendant as they
swept in.
Queen Kiara waved her fingers at one of them as they passed and ordered them to bring a
full meal to his chambers.
“Don’t pout, dear, it’s not befitting your pretty face.” The queen turned and flicked a finger
underneath Vir’s chin and guided him down the main hall and down the wing that held his new
room.
“Yes, Q—” Vir choked when she whipped around and pressed a finger to his lips.
“You may call me Kiara. You may call me any number of polite affectations, up to and
including mother. I understand that may be hard for you, but I will not have you prostrate
yourself like your blood isn’t that of the first line of your goddess. Are we clear? Nemiah may
have his father’s personality in some things…” She waved her hand dismissively and Virion
tensed when she guided him into a chair. “But he will not suffer someone to disrespect what is
his. But I’m afraid that the deal with your father is one he cannot afford to set ablaze.”
Virion traveled to a small table in the room’s corner. A sliver of a window threw a beam of
moonlight across it, inviting him to sit in one of the ornate chairs. The hand-forged, twisted
blacksteel accepted his weight as he relaxed marginally.
“Your father treats you an awful lot like mine did me.” Kiara sat in a chair across from him
and primly swept one leg over the other as wine, glasses, and food were brought in. She paid no
mind to decorum and stabbed a fork into what appeared to be a roasted potato.
“Omegas are not a common thing in my family. I notice Nemiah refers to me as a male. Am
I male, in Drashili culture?” Virion followed suit and went for the tomato he’d been denied
earlier. His stomach twisted and growled with hunger.
 “I think it’s less that omegas are regarded as male, and that it is far more accepted for an
omega to choose how they identify. Certainly we respect when one expresses a gender that
differs from what they were assigned at birth, but omegas are encouraged to choose how they
identify because the dichotomy of appearances.” She pulled a large piece of potato away with her
silver-plated fork and hummed as she bit into it, smiling.
“We are regarded as neither. I think the common public can choose how they’re addressed,
but my father holds to ideals from another time, perhaps? Or he has his own ideals. My mother
always told me he was not a reflection of his upbringing but a reflection of what he thought he
should be.” Vir took another bite and relished the flavors for another moment before he frowned
at their plates.
The potatoes in a rich cream sauce shared space with a small salad, some sort of little savory
tart and braised vegetables. Vir pushed the food around the plate. “Did we get all the courses at
once?”
“Would you rather be waiting for them and stare at all the other guests who just watched you
bent over by my son?” She raised a single sculpted brow imperiously.
“You are as observant as you are kind.” Vir bit back a comment about Nemiah not fucking
him but thought better of it. It was not a discussion one had with their mother-in-law.
“And flattery will get you far, my son. And so you know, your nymph sisters will be very
loyal to you. Unless you are in danger or bringing harm to our family, they will hold your
secrets. I was surprised Nemiah assigned them to you. Clover has coddled him since he was a
wee thing.” Kiara sniffed as the corner of her lip twitched up.
Vir took a small sip of wine and placed his glass back, searching for his water goblet on the
crowded table before draining it politely.
“I should probably ask. Are you prone to a nip of drink?” She let that little tug of a smile on
her lips bloom into something more mischievous.
“Oh. I lushed once or twice and didn’t hold my own well. I wound up in a state of undress in
the palace fountains with my chambermaid chasing me about with a robe. Apparently, the
summer heat didn’t agree with me and I had vowed to seek the inventor of an omega’s garments
and bring havoc.” Vir’s cheeks warmed at the admission. “So I refrain from more than a glass or
two on special occasions.”
“And what about the sunderleaf?” The mischief in her eyes glimmered reassuringly.
 “Oh, if it weren’t for the smell, I’d have a pinch in a pipe every night before bed. Such sleep
I get!” Speaking openly with the queen soothed something in him.
“Lucky for you, I brought a pipe. You could do with a little relaxing before Nemiah returns
with dessert for you. I think it’d be good for you two to eat together, since he’s not bedding with
you.” She took another bite and dug in her skirts before pulling a slender and ornate pipe from
somewhere in the folds with a tinderbox and tin full of the rich green powdered leaf.
“Aren’t you worried someone will smell it?” Vir put his fork down and glanced around.
“Good ventilation, my dear. Also, it’s not prohibited here. I don’t forbid it, at least. Neither
does Nemiah, though he doesn’t partake.” She rolled her eyes and struck a match while fiddling
with the pipe.
Together, they ate at their own pace, passing the pipe back and forth between one another as
the memories of the day slipped by.
 Chapter Six
Nemiah

Putting up with Alluin had been the bane of his evening, second only to his simpering beta
son and arrogant daughter. The whole deal had come off like buying a below-standard
thoroughbred steed.
Having declared the exchange complete, the king and his children were escorted to their
rooms in the guest wing where his overzealous guards stood vigil in preparation for their
morning retreat. Nemiah’s own guard had politely offered to increase his security, but there was
a certain amount of pride in knowing that his usual guard was more than plenty for anything the
Liaberians might have planned.
Nemiah had his dessert put aside for him for later. A couple’s wedding cake was supposed to
be a lively affair, but Nemiah had sent his new mate away. His mere proximity had Nemiah’s
nerves on edge, and a possessive urgency rose within him. Their united souls cried out for
intimacy that he didn’t take when he had the opportunity. He’d never forgive himself if he’d
taken him like that. A couple’s first union should have been private and based on love. Whatever
they shared before wasn’t it.
Nemiah straightened his garments and strode the long way toward his wing. The creak of a
dining cart down a servant corridor piqued his attention, and he dismissed the noise for what it
was, servants. As vital to his life as the guards that opened the entryway to his wing. He nodded
to them. No formalities were exchanged or needless bowing. Nemiah had his elevated position
by principle of birth alone. And certainly it came with a good line of blood that had contributed
to more powerful magic and harder standards that came with education the likes of which no
other was expected to attain, but that didn’t mean he had to demean those he relied on.
When the first whiff of sunderleaf hit his nostrils, he knew right away that his mother had
found good company with his mate. “Mother? Virion?”
Light giggles came from behind Virion’s bedroom door, and he knocked twice before Kiara
opened the door for them with a glassy-eyed smile. “Nemiah! Come, your mate is an absolute
treat! I was just about to head on to bed, my boy.” She reached up and patted Nemiah’s cheek
sweetly.
 “Alright, Mother. Will you be staying for dessert?” He resisted all urge to roll his eyes. The
gesture had been stricken from him by his overbearing father.
“No, dear. Spend some time with your mate.” She leaned up for a brief hug and whispered in
his ear. “I’m proud of you.”
Nemiah nodded once and eyed her carefully as she whisked her way down the hall with far
more energy and levity than she’d had in a long while. Perhaps Virion would be less of a burden
than he’d expected. Especially if their bond was as strong as it appeared. Stranger things had
happened than an arranged marriage being favored by the goddess. But that’s what it appeared.
Vir glanced at Nemiah when Kiara slipped away, and he thought better about closing the
door, not wanting to trap him. The pleasant warmth in his cheeks and soft smile froze, and
Nemiah found himself deeply unhappy when it faded. “My Lord.”
“Nemiah, or perhaps you’ll fancy an affectation in time. I know I will eventually find one I
favor for you.” My little rabbit and Sugarmoth.
He turned his head, and the color in his cheeks returned. Perhaps shame or maybe interest.
Nemiah had never been particularly great at telling any one emotion apart from another,
especially when it came to love and kindness.
“I—” Vir quieted when the dessert cart rolled up, and Nemiah stepped to the side to allow
their cake to be brought in. Partially carved already, against tradition, but the top portion had
been left untouched.
“I wasn’t sure what flavors you favored when I had the cake ordered. One side is birch syrup
and the other side is rhine nut. I had planned to ask and turn the cake right when the time cam—”
“Birch syrup!” That lovely smile brightened Virion’s face before he flushed with
embarrassment and folded in on himself. “My L—Nemiah.”
Nemiah nodded solemnly as he dismissed the servant, eying the neatly placed cake, forks,
and plates. “I appreciate your effort. It cannot be easy for you, I imagine. It has to be harrowing.”
Keeping his tone neutral felt like an important thing, not to scare his little rabbit. “It was not
pleasant, I’ll admit.”
“I apologize for the consummation.” Nemiah quieted when Virion’s cheeks pinkened.
“I understand. You didn’t want to. It’s alright.”
“In time, perhaps?” Nemiah’s careful tone did little to bring the light back into his mate’s
eyes. Though why he cared, he wasn’t certain. They didn’t know one another, nor was Virion in
any mental space to copulate after the shameful purification and eventual farce of
consummation. In general, the male seemed starved of affection.
Virion shrugged and sat up straighter when Nemiah carved the confection and offered him
the preferred birch syrup cake. Nemiah took a little of both, being a fan of mixing the dark
bitterness of rhine nut and the sweetness of birch syrup. “I hear that birch is not a favored flavor
among the Liaberians.”
Virion froze, indecisive, as his eyes darted from Nemiah to his plate. “I—I suppose my
tastes are a little exotic. I can tame that down! I—I don’t have to have such expensive things!”
Timid little rabbit. Nemiah shook his head lightly. “Your tastes are actually more common in
our lands. We are a drab people but make up for it in flavor. It’s no harsh expense.”
“Really?” Some of the light returned to his gaze. “I suppose that’s one of the plus sides. I am
fond of the clothes left for me.”
“I’m fond of them, too.” Nemiah caught his eyes lingering and tore his gaze away. “I was
very pleased to hear you were fond of being male. I had other options at the ready, of course, but
the girls were delighted to have you.”
Virion didn’t meet his gaze again, taking another bite of cake. He suddenly seemed very
small, shrinking in on himself.
“I hated to send you away from the table tonight, you know?” Nemiah cleared his throat and
put his fork down and waited for Virion to glance up.
“I was rude. I’m s—”
Nemiah couldn’t resist reaching over, hooking a finger under Virion’s chin. “Do not
apologize. You were not sent away for any perceived rudeness. You were sent away because of
your father’s behavior. His customs when it comes to you are frankly annoying to witness, at
best.”
Virion glanced up and fleetingly met Nemiah’s gaze. “So you have different rules and
customs I must follow?”
“We do. None of which involves my mate being anything less than my own status. One does
not breed a thoroughbred mare to a plow horse for a stud. Insinuating you are anything less is a
crime. You are a light in the dark, my Silver Prince.”
With a swipe of his fork across the dessert plate, Virion paused, his face a mask of
something far away. “Why is everything so dark and gloomy here?”
 Nemiah, caught off guard by the sudden drop in Virion’s mood again, his will as soft as the
wings of the sugarmoth, blinked at the question. “Blacksteel. It comes from a tempered iron in
our soil. Our fibers they grow with black hues naturally in them. Only by dyeing them further
with sun or gemstone do we get any hue to them at all. It’s in our soil. Even our skin has adapted
to the amount of iron over so many generations. We have to import bright things.”
Virion’s mouth formed a soft O, posture tensing just the slightest as that telltale break in
composure washed over his face. “That should have been obvious.”
“I won’t hold that trivial oversight over you, but I do have questions for you, if you don’t
mind.” Nemiah took a bite of cake and eyed the rest on the plate. Dinner had soured in his belly a
little, but away from Alluin and his obnoxious children, Virion aside, but his mate spurred on a
fantastic appetite.
Raising his head, Virion blinked in surprise. “If it’s mine to answer.”
“Your father said you measured at six thalms.” Nemiah pushed a few crumbs around on his
plate.
Instead of answering, agreeing, or refuting in some way, Virion visibly schooled his
expression. The fleeting bits of emotion settled over his cool-toned features. Pale lashes lowered,
not in flirtation but in embarrassment. “He did say that.” Mimicking Nemiah’s gesture, Virion
pushed crumbs over his plate with a gentle scrape.
“But he’s wrong. Very wrong.” Nemiah leaned in his chair, the gentle creak of steel beneath
the padding a welcome break in the silence. As he’d requested earlier, a thalmeter had been set
on a lower shelf of the cart, and his nails traced the crystalline surface of an orb seated in a
special frame of ornate brass, the bronzed hues blacked with age. A cap seated top and bottom,
framed in with two handles, one on each side. “But you already know that, don’t you?” He
handed the device over.
“I do. I am unsure as to why my father said that number.” With a little twist of his lips, a
tempered sort of pride flashed in his eyes. Virion grabbed the handles and let the numbers flash
across the screen. And had it not been for Nemiah’s excessive and relentless training to school
his emotions, he might have gasped. “Three score.”
“And two, it appears.” Nemiah met Virion’s eyes and the exchange between them simmered.
“I appreciate the modesty. Would appreciate honesty, more. Why?”
 “Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps he felt slighted that my score was above even his
own? Perhaps my tutors lied to him to make my siblings look better? Or he had some underlying
intention to make me less appealing to you? Honestly, I haven’t hidden anything from you, but
my best guess would be that they told him and he refused to listen. My father hasn’t ever had the
best opinions of me.” Virion shrugged.
Nemiah took the device away from his newly mated husband and put it back on the cart. The
clack and rattle filled the silence of the cold guest room. He made a note to tell the girls to set a
nice fire in the hearth, to warm it for Virion, or perhaps to take the beautiful creature to the hot
springs. The image of it in Nemiah’s mind brought about thoughts of the male’s warm thighs, the
plushness of his rear, and a crashing coldness when he recalled the witnesses. His cock, middling
with interest, deflated to a comfortable flaccidity at the recollection. “No, he doesn’t, does he?
But I will not hide you away.”
“Rubbing me in my father’s face? Not wanting to appear weak?” Virion sniffed, his voice
going reedy and soft. “Goddesses know you don’t want me.”
With all the training he’d had to lock his emotions away, that one small comment broke his
composure. “Don’t pretend to know what I want.” Nemiah dropped his fork and schooled his
reaction. “I’m not sure what gave you that impression.”
Narrow shoulders rose in a halfhearted shrug. The soft expression faltered to one of anger
and resignation. “After the kiss… Then you wouldn’t consummate… You didn’t want me.”
“Pouting doesn’t befit you. But no. I didn’t want to fornicate with you in front of people!”
Nemiah reached for his fork once more, hand shaking as practiced composure wore thin.
Unfortunately, Nemiah had his father’s patience at times, and he had to school himself hard to
realize his anger was a mere flash of impulse that, like any other emotion, needed careful control.
“We’re very compatible and I’d rather like to cement our ties organically. When you’re ready and
you want it and not panicking under threat of your father banishing you.”
“Banishing me? Whatever for?” That caught Virion’s attention. “His greatest threat had been
to give me to the conservatory for passing up too many suitors.”
Nemiah raised a brow. “Because you were not a virgin.”
“That’s not really much of a secret… Why was it a problem?” A sudden twist of Virion’s
features brought color to his cheeks. “But never with an alpha, of course.”
 “Yet another mystery, I suppose…” Nemiah drew a hand over his face and froze. “Oh, good
goddess!”
With a start, Virion fumbled his fork. “I-is that a problem though?”
Nemiah scoffed. “Not at all. I am so sorry.”
“That’s why you told…” Virion’s soft face went even more vividly pink.
“As if I regularly inform my lovers I’d make them bleed for pleasure.” Nemiah rubbed at his
face once more and sighed. “We are off to a fantastic start for the rest of our lives. Was Mother
polite to you at least?”
That comment broke Virion’s composure. “I don’t think that woman has a polite bone in her
body.”
Nemiah’s stern features ticked, brow cramping with uncertainty. “Pardon?”
“Your mother was a delight! I apologize if I came off as rude. I appreciated her honesty and
the sunderleaf. I’m not one for drink and it was pleasant. She made me feel more at ease with
joining your castle.” He met Nemiah’s eyes once more, cheeks aflame. “Thank you for sparing
me.”
“It’s of no consequence. I suppose we’ll cross that proverbial bridge when it needs to
happen.” Nemiah took another bite of cake and savored the flavors, much like he’d savor Virion
in time. The pale cream of the frosting would match nothing to his mate’s spend. “Isn’t there
tradition for us to exchange a bite of cake?”
Virion glanced from his plate to Nemiah, eyes dipping to what was presumably his lips to
linger.
“Here. Try some of my rhine nut.” Nemiah scooped a small forkful up and leaned over,
cupping the tines.
Virion met him with a gentle lean in, small pink lips parting as he swiped the bite of cake
away with a flick of his tongue. Before Virion could pull away, Nemiah stifled a predatory growl,
wanting to hunt his mate. Truly, his little rabbit.
So, when Nemiah pulled his fork away and opened his mouth, he drew in the sweet birch
syrup cake with tongue and lips far less skillful, tasting not the floral sweetness but that metallic
tang of a flavor he’d only learned of hours ago. Virion’s lips. That growl curled in his throat as
he took the bite, and Virion didn’t shy away, pink eyes flicking up to meet his own. “Birch syrup
is good, right?”
 But you taste so much better. Nemiah savored the taste and swallowed. “It is. But I think I’ll
be taking my leave. Would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow? Far less company to
entertain. I cannot promise my mother won’t barge in, but she appears to like you.”
Virion set his fork down and blinked, taken aback as Nemiah stood and gathered the dishes.
Eyes widening, he stood with a flurry of hands, helping him put the dishes back on the cart. “Of
course. Didn’t see you as the sort to clear your own table.”
Nemiah hesitated, as he’d always cleaned up after himself unless there was an event of some
sort. It never occurred to Nemiah to make enemies of his staff when he could do a little for
himself. As a servant to his people, it was his job to study, learn, and provide a future for his
people. His support staff was there to facilitate his success, to keep him at ease, not to lavish him
in luxury. Luxury that Virion would have been accustomed to.
Reaching a hand out, Nemiah grasped Virion’s wrist gently. “Please. Allow me. You’ll learn
our customs in time. Dishes go on the cart and to the hall and the staff will take it away. If you’re
in the dining hall, you can carry it back to the kitchens. I prefer my staff to be my friends, not my
employees.”
The smile Virion returned was strained at best, pinching the corners of his lips as Nemiah
moved the plates away. Leaning in, Nemiah had the fleeting urge to kiss him, but the tremble in
Virion’s lower lip combined with his wide, prey-like eyes made Nemiah draw back.
“Goodnight, my husband.” Nemiah brushed his fingers gently over Virion’s wrist as he
pulled away. “I hope that one day we come to know one another so well that your father eats his
own crown.”
 Chapter Seven
Virion

Virion stared at his dirty table as Nemiah’s footsteps faded down the hall, followed by the
quiet squeak of the cart’s wheels behind the softer footsteps of a servant. His spiced scent of the
forges and oil lingered in his wake and the memory of him bent over Virion’s back rutting into
him in such an obscene way made him shiver. Still, he felt oddly protected.
Because I didn’t want to. Nemiah’s words came back to haunt him as the nymphs swept in,
Ivy offering him a polite yet mournful smile. Sadness lived in those misty eyes, but this time it
was for him.
“Are you well, Virion?” Clover flitted by with a new dressing gown, made in a style for
men, what he’d become accustomed to as a young boy, not the fitted thing with lace trim that
tickled his feet at night to the point that his chambermaid had to be warned to knock because he
preferred sleeping in the nude. For the sake of decency, he decided he’d wear it. He didn’t think
he could keep the nymphs out of his room anyway. Not that he minded.
He reached for the gown and found Artemis pulling it out of reach. “Come, Virion. Let us go
bathe in the hot springs. Master Nemiah said you should relax for now and nothing feels better.”
Vir couldn’t complain as Clover slipped her hand into his and guided him from his room and
down many halls to a set of stairs that wound almost gracefully down in a soft spiral. The soft
scent of sulfur permeated the air on the edge of a cloud of moisture that condensed on walls that
bore no moss or mold from the intrusion, bearing the marks of regular cleaning. Even the air
bore no mold or mustiness.
Thalm-lit torches cast their soft yellow glow over flinty walls, damp reflecting off the
surfaces where the mist let light cut through. The casual drip of water and trickle of a stream
somewhere nearby made Virion sigh.
“Come this way,” Clover said as they rounded another corner and opened latched doors. The
baths back home had never been so guarded. Privacy was almost assured as Virion stepped
beyond them and stared at the little underground oasis. A languid pool rippled with water so
mineral-laden that it held a milky hue to it. Hot steam curled in the air and when Virion took a
long, appreciative breath, Artemis swept by with Ivy to draw him to the side where a small
curtained area had been constructed, boxed in by rich wood and thick iron nails with patterned
heads.
“Wash yourself before you enter the pools. We keep this area clean.” Clover ushered Vir in
and handed him a scrub cloth, woven of some twisted plant fiber that scratched his skin, but
worked a rich lather from the pale-lavender bar of soap perched on a slatted small shelf. The
surface of it held the pocked marks of embedded flowers and threw a scent rich in holy cedar.
Vir made quick work of washing himself, the wipe down he received after his event with
Nemiah not nearly enough to cleanse him from that memory. Though he’d never want it gone.
No man had ever made him release without touch before, without penetration, even. He found
his cock twitching, and he bade it away as the warm, flowing water disappeared beneath his feet
through a guided drain. Every swipe of the rough cloth over his sensitive skin made the memory
of what had happened seem a little further away.
Maybe if he scrubbed enough, he’d forget the quiet rustle and clearing throats of the people
in observance, the glimpse of shuffling shoes he’d shaken from his head. His downcast gaze and
refusal to look hadn’t been perfect, but it helped.
Upon finishing his shower, Artemis pulled him out, draping a bath sheet over his shoulders
to daub and dry his hair. Stepping away from the water and toward the pool was a pleasant
experience, the air not as biting cold as he’d anticipated.
The rough stone surrounding the pool wound a path in the pattern of the bricked floor,
textured so as not to slip. The first kiss of water on his toes nearly sucked him in with the
promise of warmth. His ass, sore from the long carriage ride less so than Nemiah’s earlier events,
soothed almost instantly. The fragrant heat did so much as he sank down, closing his eyes as
exhaustion finally caught up with him.
Nymphs, the gentle forest spirits, danced about in the air, toes barely touching the water as
they flitted around, taking turns combing his hair. Clover, her pink skin flushed from the heat,
swam through the water, coming up behind him to rub his shoulders. “Nemiah was kind to you,
yes?”
“He was.” Virion stared at the milky water surrounding him. “Please be honest with me. Am
I safe?”
 A snort interrupted the silence. Artemis’s lavender skin reflected in a soft glow off the
water’s surface. “Let Nemiah try. He’ll never sleep a night’s rest if he harms a hair on your
head.”
“Thank you.” Virion didn’t know what more to say as they tended his hair and soaked for
themselves in their own sort of way. Nymphs were tangible spirit, so they held little stock with
the natural law, hypnotizing Virion with their gentle floating touches until he caught himself near
dozing off in the water.
Gentle hands coaxed him to stand, and the towel returned. Fresh slippers ensconced his feet
before they gave him more male undergarments, the drawstring linen shorts a comforting
reminder that his new life allowed him that piece of himself.
He barely recalled his nightclothes being tugged on or their coaxing pushes to get him up the
steps once more. It’d been a long month, but what the pipeweed started, the warm bath finished
as he fell into the softest and most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in.

***

Vir had grown accustomed to midmorning sun waking him, but the dim nature of Drashil in
the shadow of the mountains didn’t wake him with a stripe of bright warmth. Nor did Pilki’s
accidental milling about.
“Good afternoon, Virion!” Clover’s soft voice rang through the room, and Vir stretched amid
the tousled sheets and heavy, woven blankets.
“Afternoon already?” Virion blinked up at an unfamiliar ceiling and rose amid the tugging
of blankets and sheets, ushering him to the garderobe. Its mechanism was much different from
what he was accustomed to in his father’s palace, but it functioned similarly enough. He could
only be thankful he wasn’t given a chamber pot.
“Closer to evening, I’d say. You’ve only a few hours until dinner, and Nemiah was insistent
you dine with him.” The voice that answered was familiar, but not that of the nymphs. His new
mother-in-law?
“I’m not quite decent yet, My La—Kiara.” Virion stumbled over the title and earned a hum
of appreciation.
“Are you naked, or is my son in there with you?” Her sly tones made Virion’s cheeks burn.
 “I’m still in my nightclothes!”
“Oh pish. Get out here. You’ve nothing I’ve not seen before.” Kiara huffed and Virion
stepped out, eying her warily.
“I might. I’m omega, after all.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Trust me. I had a wild youth and omegas were allowed to fraternize
with ladies.”
Vir choked as he stepped fully out and strode to the vanity where a basin and ewer sat with
fresh water for him to wash his hands. “I stand corrected, then. But there are some things I wish
to keep to myself, especially around my betrothed’s mother.”
“Would you rather I take to needling you on giving me grandchildren to spoil?” She lifted an
imperiously sculpted brow. Her hair had a metallic cast to it, a granite shade like blacksteel fresh
quenched from the forge, and it suited her pallor well. She was a beautiful woman, and Virion
saw why Nemiah’s father had kept her.
Artemis pushed Vir across the room, nudging him behind a dressing screen as Clover tugged
his night robes away, and Ivy methodically tugged and plucked layers of garments onto him,
almost as fine as what he’d worn the day before for his wedding, and once more, decidedly male
in designation. He couldn’t help the grin that he caught in a brief glimpse in a dressing mirror
before turning away from it at the tug of a comb through his hair. Virion found he appreciated the
shades of gray they’d picked for him.
Kiara met his gaze as he stepped free of the nymphs, giving Ivy and Clover a gentle pat on
their forearms in thanks. He made a note to see if the kitchens could send some honey to his
room later as a treat for them, as the nymphs in his homeland were always delighted by offerings
of it in their forests when their lands needed to be passed through. “I suppose that is the task I
was given to Nemiah for.”
“Which is a conundrum to me. I cannot fathom why someone as lovely as you hadn’t been
given to a suitor already. But I am glad—beautiful dusk grandchildren. So, what is wrong with
you? I know there was doubt about your virtue? An illegitimate child? A failed betrothal?”
Virion narrowly avoided sneering in defense and calmed himself with a slow breath. “I
turned down every suitor my father brought. No failed betrothal or any scandals. I’ve dallied
with betas before, but nothing more. I was simply obstinate, considering the ceremony I had to
be put through to wed someone.” Virion fought the fire in his cheeks. “I never found someone
worth the indecency.”
“And Nemiah was?” Her eyebrow remained stiffly poised and would outlast Virion’s
composure, certainly.
“I did not have a choice with Nemiah. But he did not shame me.”
Not wanting to go into more detail, Vir left it at that, but Kiara wasn’t going to. “He shamed
you needlessly because your family demanded. I’m actually a little upset with him for going
through with it.”
“I…” Vir hesitated when Artemis spoke up for him.
“He didn’t. Clever angles and a well-placed prick of the nail gave the audience all they
needed. Our precious Virion is still alpha untouched.” She kissed the top of Vir’s head as she
floated by, stifling a giggle.
That shameful heat burned Vir’s cheeks. “I—I.”
“Oh.” Kiara pursed her lips, her gaze wary. “I meant to say something yesterday. Ask,
really.”
“I’ll submit for him the moment he wishes. I promise. I didn’t mean t—” Virion’s words
tumbled forth and Kiara rolled her eyes, shushing him as she took his arm in hers.
“Let’s go for a walk. I wish to talk about your union. I’ve no issue with when you two
decide to consummate. It’s far more sacred for us, and the moon smiles on those who practice
patience.”
Virion stumbled the first few steps as he nervously cowered under her gaze and followed.
“What sort of union do they do in Liaberos?” She folded her free hand behind her back
while keeping a tight rein on Vir.
“Well. They exchange vows and if they’re regency, they are subject to the consummation.”
Virion stumbled after her. “Certainly no blood exchange or… I’m not certain what that spell
was.”
Kiara pivoted on one foot, releasing Vir’s arm as her expression went uneasy. “You do not
know what that was?”
“No. I’ve never felt my magic sway like that before.”
“And you never will again. You tethered every thalm of your soul to Nemiah, and he to
you.” Kiara’s expression, put upon and full of pity, didn’t change.
 “If we were soulmates, that would be the case, but—”
“You are. The moon takes our oaths seriously, so he tethered himself to you. But this is
beyond the tether. I felt your magics snap. You two are special.” She grabbed for Virion’s hands
and held them cupped in hers. “Please be kind to Nemiah. He was not expecting this at all.”
“I think it’s because I am high in thalms. My magic has been called intense at times.” Virion
pursed his lips in hope of conveying his resignation, but that sadness remained.
“And that only makes it so much more intense. Trust me.” She stared and, not relenting,
earned a sigh of exasperation. “I have a feeling you two were meant for one another. Fine. Be
stubborn. Just don’t hurt yourself, okay? He is amicable when things need be done.”
Virion offered what he hoped was an assuring smile, and the moment slipped away, their
walk resuming as they made their way to the palace gardens.
The sun’s light shadowed that side of the mountain for most of the day and bathed it in
moonlight at night. The low light made the plant life dense with chick canopies, leaves fighting
for sun with as much rich, dark green as possible.
Even plants that Virion recognized held veins of black running through them, tainted even
then by the soil so rich and dark with a reddish cast from oxides.
“It’s not the fanciful brightness you’re accustomed to, but we do try to hold beauty.” She
brushed her fingers over a creeping rose, the dusty-purple petals curling inward defensively as
she did so, protecting the sweet nectar within, defending itself from anything other than the
sugarmoths that would pollinate them. The timid clench would protect them from the gnawing
screechwasps that sang their shrill songs at the death of fall as they bred and laid their eggs in
dormant vegetation.
“Honestly, the brightness didn’t do much for me. I had to squint at all of it.” Virion offered
her a slight chuckle and leaned forward to another blossom, barely opened at this time of year.
The sweet pollen within drew his senses as he kept far enough away to not cause the petals to
shy. “I love them. The soil makes them this way? They’re so drab in our home gardens.”
“They do react with the soil, much like our vegetation. It’ll wreak havoc on your stomach, of
course. The kitchen is minding what they cook for now, as the minerals here are much richer, but
you’ll have some adjusting to do. If your stomach doesn’t reject it at some point, your cycles
surely will.” Kiara threw the statement over her shoulder impassively.
“Cycles?”
 “Your cycles. Our omegas tend to go by the moon and have their begging nights, or so we
called them.”
Virion’s cheeks burned. “It’s the same for us. But we just call them our fertile times.”
“I cannot say I’m in a total rush to be a grandmother, which I cannot say the same for your
father.” She sighed. “Insurance for the alliance and all that.”
“Wish it could happen on someone else’s back.” Virion’s slip was met with a curt glare.
“Not that Nemiah isn’t a good choice. It’s the being bred like horses I loathe.”
“I see. Well, no finer a mane have I seen among mares hovering around Nemiah’s stable. So,
worry not.” Kiara gently tugged a lock of Virion’s hair and led him through the rest of the
garden.
There was no sunderleaf this time, merely the company they could share. Certainly it was
better with her than it was waiting alone and nervous in his bedroom until time to dine with his
husband.
 Chapter Eight
Nemiah

Kiara brought Virion in a few minutes early, not that Nemiah hadn’t come straight from his
lab not twenty minutes ago to sit and feign boredom. He’d caught himself twice that night
wandering the hall, telling himself he was checking on Virion, making sure he was safe or
adjusted somehow. Blush—Clover had chased him off the second time and he’d dared not return
for fear of being mocked. The nymphs were loyal to a fault that he’d not understood until he was
the outsider looking in.
Protecting my own husband from me. Nemiah scoffed and filed the notion away for later.
Such longings were for lesser men not in control of their functions.
“You could cut the mood in this room with a knife.” Kiara swept by, patting Nemiah’s
shoulder on the way by. “Did they tell you what was on the menu for this evening?”
Nemiah briefly entertained a response in his mind. Here’s hoping it’s my mate. Though he
was far too poised to speak it aloud. “I never thought to ask.”
“My K—Nemiah.” Virion bowed his head in greeting, and Nemiah made a note to rid him
of that particular habit.
“Thank you. I appreciate your attempts to be comfortable. There is no need to submit to
me.” Nemiah stood and pulled out a chair, not beside him but opposite the corner for them to
face one another a little. He rather liked looking at Virion. “How was the garden?”
“It was lovely. Your mother and I get along well.” Virion sat and tensed when Nemiah
pushed him toward the table.
“She is quite agreeable. My father kept her for a reason. She made up for his lack of
personality.” Nemiah offered a forced smile that Virion returned with a flat purse of his lips. “It
is okay to laugh. Trust me. None in the palace held many fond feelings for the man.”
“So I hear, but I am still learning your temperament.” He relaxed marginally then settled
when the squeak of trolley wheels signaled their meal had arrived.
Nemiah nodded wistfully. “I have to say. I do enjoy your caution, but you wear many
emotions. You’re easy to read.” Nemiah sat back as an attendant placed a plate before him then
Virion, a platter of light affair, vegetables and braised rabbit. Gaze flicking between his plate and
Virion, he felt less inclined to eat rabbit.
“And I am not fond of trying to puzzle out your emotions. You hide them too well, but I do
appreciate how happy your staff appears. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone less than content.”
“Because as long as everything gets done and I have my peace and quiet, they get paid. They
can see to things as they see fit unless it bothers me, and I have an abundance of things that
irritate me far more than an attendant with a shirt not tucked the way I please.” Nemiah waved
his hand dismissively and held out a hand as an attendant walked by to place a glass of water in
it.
“And I would assume that same standard would apply to myself?” Virion took his glass and
brought the crystal to his soft, pink lips.
“I don’t see why not? As long as your duties are done—”
“And what would those be? Sex? My husbandly du—”
Nemiah sat his glass down a little too hard. The water sloshed as he did so. “I will not set
standards upon you to fuck me. That happens when we decide and when we are comfortable with
it. I only ask that you play the part when we have to entertain people and attend to your other
duties as Mother passes them to you.”
“And those would be?” Virion sat his glass down, his gaze not meeting Nemiah’s. They
flicked about his person as if gauging if he would be hit or not.
Nemiah sighed and leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back to close his eyes in
exasperation. “Things that require a friendlier face. Business dealings, trade, shaking hands, and
kissing babies. Things that I am not suited for. I have my father’s demeanor. Not his temper,
fortunately.”
“Tell me who to be for you, then.” Virion picked his fork up and pushed a morsel of meat
about.
“I could woo you with affectations and tell you that you’re my soulmate or to be kindly
toward me, or I can tell you that your job is the same as any other’s in this forsaken place. To
make my life easier. If that means eating with me, please do. If that means seeing to dignitaries
while I’m occupied—do it. And I trust you have moral judgment to a capacity, so there’s the
occasional squabble between citizens that will make it to the castle. Mother handles them for the
time being, but I’ll insist that her duties are eased at some point, should you be willing.” Nemiah
turned his attention back to his food and ate in silence, mind wandering. “I forgot to ask if you
were well rested.”
“I am. Thank you.” Virion continued picking at his food, not out of distaste, as he seemed to
enjoy what he ate, but likely nerves.
“Would you be interested in seeing more of the castle… My lab?” Nemiah pursed his lips
and waited for polite rejection or perhaps a soft noise of agreement, but Virion’s response caught
him off guard.
“A thalmalurgical lab?” His entire demeanor brightened.
“Mechathalmalurgical, specifically.” Nemiah took another bite, but Virion had lost interest
in his dinner at the prospect of his lab. “Is that why you’d wanted to join the conservatory?”
“Oh. No. Not exactly. My father threatened to send me there if I continued to turn suitors
away.” Virion relaxed enough to laugh and paused, brow creasing only slightly. Nemiah resisted
the urge to lean forward and straighten the crease with his thumb. “Which is another reason it
was strange because if he thought I was a six, why would he even have considered the
conservatory for me?”
“I find it odd, too. But I’d rather not remind him in case he wants to take you back. You’re
mine now, and nobody else’s.” Nemiah’s terse words caught Virion off guard, his puzzled
expression falling away to that doe-eyed look. “Any objection?”
“None.” His cheeks flushed, and Nemiah offered him a wicked grin. Emotions were easy to
conceal for him, but the telltale tingle in his magic restored the comforting weight of his horns
and wings. Virion responded in kind, the pearlescent hue of his horns so small and sleek. One
day, they’d surely have one another the way alpha and omega were meant to, bathing in the
moon, letting the paleness of his skin glow under their goddess’s light. He envisioned them
rutting shamelessly, letting more than their bodies connect but their spirits as well.
“Good.” Nemiah picked his napkin up, wiped his face, and stood, his wings rustling
anxiously as he extended his hand. “Come with me.”
Virion took his hand, eyes wide with wonder. Those pale-pink eyes of his held the glow of
his magic, rising to the surface the second their skin touched. “Show me this lab.”
“Straight to the point, my husband, dear. Come.” Nemiah led them from the table and down
the hall, to the farthest part of the castle. Thalmalurgical labs were unstable at the best of times
and were safest kept away from people, but Virion didn’t seem to mind. Their clasped hands, so
warm and tight together, let their magic travel and when Nemiah threw the door to his lab open,
Virion’s eyes went wide, gleaming bright with magic as he studied the contents.
“Thalm generators…” Virion rushed over to a machine of Nemiah’s own design, and in part,
yes, it was a thalm generator. But it was also a prototype for long-distance communication.
“Thalm generator and transducer.” Nemiah grinned and flicked a few switches.
“What does it turn thalms into?” Virion’s slender fingers traversed the edges of the steel of
its structure, opening the chassis without permission to analyze the wires within, each
painstakingly wrapped in sugarmoth silk and tripvine sap to prevent fire. With a delicate touch,
Virion studied the trail from the antennae to the bank of pure salicate crystal powder. “Turns it
into a rapid pulse of something…”
Nemiah couldn’t hold back the surge of pride. He loved what he saw, the excitement and the
joy in his mate’s eyes. “Rapid pulses of thalmic interference. I’ve managed to focus it on the sky
and let it echo from sky to ground in a controlled formation. And the pulses carry—”
“Information! You can send messages.” Virion gasped as he pushed wires around to stare at
the inside before withdrawing and closing it up.
“Letters as fast as you can enter them.” Nemiah puffed with pride.
“If you’re transducing thalmic interference and it’s that fast and you can transmit letters,
can’t you just add the same thing they use in cadence chambers?” Virion glanced around the
room, brow furrowed. The idea hadn’t quite occurred to Nemiah to convert the signal to sound
like the tubes with ridges wound around it coded with the means to transmit sound by scratching
a needle over it.
“And transmit voice…” Nemiah pulled Virion away from the machine and flush to his chest.
Wrapping one hand around the gentle curve of his pearlescent horn, Nemiah tilted his head back
and stared into his wide eyes. “Brilliant.”
Nemiah’s lids hooded, lips parted, and a kiss seemed inevitable. They drew in together, lips
brushing. A peek of tongue reciprocated. Nemiah nipped his lip and suckled his tongue, groaning
into it.
The kittenish whimper of pleasure Virion made caught Nemiah off guard and he deepened
the kiss, hands traversing his back. Fingers wandered, cupping Virion’s ass to lift him and turn,
hefting him onto a workbench with a metallic clang of tools. “What was your father thinking
letting me have you, you brilliant, brilliant omega?”
 “Not a d-damn clue,” Virion said. His entire body trembled beneath Nemiah’s touch, the
groped hands over his soft ass squeezing as their mouths returned to their hungry kiss.
“What would you call this voice thing?” Nemiah parted their lips and tilted his head to clack
their horns together, reassured by that solid touch.
“Telethalmic conversation? I’m not a na-namer.” Virion tilted his head, their horns rubbing
with a gentle grind before Nemiah kissed his way to Virion’s neck, tongue trailing the tender skin
there before he nipped, relishing the tender skin between his teeth and the heady scent of his
mate’s arousal.
“Telecon…” Nemiah nipped and shuddered before pushing in to grind against Virion’s
delightful hardness. “I never thought to transmit sound.”
“Wait to t-tell my father. I’d be happier not hearing his voice for a while longer, yet,” Virion
whimpered and reciprocated the gentle rock of hips that Nemiah initiated.
“Or should I merely tell him it was your idea? He’d surely refuse to use it.” Nemiah
chuckled and pulled one hand from Virion’s ass. He trailed the omega’s thigh to find the hem of
his tunic and push it up, working his fingers into the rich folds of fabric until a rewarding stripe
of bare skin met the tips of his fingers.
“Don’t talk about my father. Please.” Virion whimpered, submitting to his touch.
Nemiah couldn’t resist pulling his tunic up farther, dragging an errant nail over a small, pert
nipple. The tiny whimper he made against Nemiah’s lips made blood pulse south and when he
glanced between them, the hard outline of his cock stood in contrast under the dim thalm lighting
of his lab, a soft yellow thing to ease strain on his eyes. The scent of slick and arousal greeted
him when his hand roved over Virion’s ass, finding his waistband to slide his fingers past his
belt, touching bare flesh.
Two polite knocks interrupted them, and Nemiah tore himself away, putting his cold and
impassive face on as Virion scrambled off the workbench and fell with a yelp. “Yes?” Nemiah
stared as the door swung open. His mother, as oblivious as anything, slipped in.
Of all the shameless… He scrutinized her for a moment as they exchanged knowing looks.
“Virion, dear? You alright? Nemiah isn’t being a bully, is he?” Kiara eyed Nemiah with a
half grin and strode through, observing the lab with distaste. “The place is a sooty mess, dear.
Should I have the attendants cl—”
 “If they move one thing in here, I will make my father’s fits seem tame. I vow it.” Nemiah’s
erection, forgotten, wilted as Virion stood, hair a mess, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed as deep
as crimson as oxide.
“I don’t think you’ll have much of a say if I have anything to do with it.” She ran her finger
along the surface of a charting table and brought back a finger smudged with splattered ink and
careless spills. His gaze flicked to his workbench and found it in a similar state, streaked along
Virion’s backside, much to his dismay. Nemiah swore beneath his breath. “Clover!”
A moment later, the door to the lab opened behind Kiara and the pinkness of nymph
brightened the surrounding space. “Nemiah.”
Kiara gave the nymph a sidelong glance, cool as ice. She wasn’t much of a fan of the
nymphs, not since Nemiah was a child and had to endure his father’s constant philandering, the
nymphs being no exception to his ways.
“Get Virion cleaned up, please. His new clothes are soil—” Nemiah halted when Virion shot
him a terse look and brought his hands to his backside, dusting himself off with a curl of thalmic
power over his fingertips. The soot and oil staining his pants dissipated like nothing more than an
errant streak of flour, gone in a gesture without even an incantation or focal element. No wand or
stone. Magic on thought was a skill that few learned.
Nemiah couldn’t stop staring as he turned his back and left with Clover, lips pursed. Rage
bubbled inside Nemiah, fierce gaze locking onto his mother as Virion slipped out. “Mother.”
Kiara gave Virion a polite nod on his way out and turned her attention back to Nemiah,
grinning widely. “My son. What were you up to?”
“Thanking my husband for his astute contribution to my telethalmic messaging system.”
Nemiah leaned over his workbench, digging his nails into the wood of the top.
“Contribution?”
“He’s far more powerful than I when it comes to magic, and intelligent, it seems. He
suggested a way I could modify this to transmit voice.” Nemiah took a deep breath as his anger
simmered down to a low ache in his chest. “Why did you interrupt?”
“Because you don’t need to rush him just yet.” Kiara glanced at the door and back at him.
“You showed restraint at the consummation. Show some now. Fucking your husband over your
filthy workbench… Really? Have I taught you better? Cement your bonds so it doesn’t break
them.”
 “Our bonds are cemented.” Nemiah put a hand over his heart and breathed slowly to wish
the growing pain away. His magic needed Virion’s to be complete.
“You think so just because you are drawn to him if he’s as strong as you say. Exercise a little
patience because you two have the potential to love one another, and I, for one, do not wish for
you to have the relationship Behran and I had.” Kiara waved him off with a stern glance. “And
stay out of his room, you hear me? You’re rushing him and behaving like a boor.”
Nemiah fisted his fingers tight into his palms as he let his head fall forward.
He had taken liberties. Of course, the omega would submit to him at a whim, but it felt right.
The male was endearing and intelligent, but Nemiah’s body craved him.
 Chapter Nine
Virion

With the nymphs around, taking care of himself was a near impossibility. His unbearable
hardness had relented by the time he got back to his room, met with a light repast and some
nightclothes.
“Would you like another bath?” Ivy pulled the braid from his hair and ran slender fingers
through the fine strands with barely a prickle. He shrugged.
A light floral odor of some scented oil floated about him as Artemis combed strands back
into a protective hairstyle. “How was your afternoon with Nemiah?”
“It was good. We didn’t get to finish our meal, but we’re learning one another. I got to see
his lab.” Virion lifted his arms as Clover got him out of his tunic and snorted with laughter.
Virion couldn’t help the heat that rose in his cheeks.
“Didn’t get to finish touring the lab, either.” Clover hummed and floated by, scrutinizing
Virion’s face before rattling around in the vanity. He was certainly no stranger to being picked
and tweezed at and tilted his chin up as Clover returned to do just that. “Are you in pain?”
“Oh, he didn’t hurt me.” Virion blinked in surprise and received a lingering stare from
Clover.
“I mean, since you couldn’t fulfill one another. Are you in pain?” Clover spoke slowly, her
misty eyes focused in on Virion’s intensely.
“Oh. It’s bothersome, I suppose…” Virion hesitated as Ivy and Artemis made a sympathetic
noise.
“Kiara interrupted them,” Clover said.
Artemis and Ivy made coos of pity.
“It’s not an issue. I promise.” Virion waved his hand and was decidedly unhappy with his
being interrupted. He wanted to go back and ask for more, to sneak out of the room to go find
Nemiah’s quarters.
Virion settled at his table as the three flitted about, getting him ready for the evening, setting
out a cup of warm tea. He’d barely been up too long that day, but a few sips into his tea, and he
was ready to sleep again, still regaining his strength from the cleansing, the travel, and stress.
 He forced himself to stay awake, fighting it even as the nymphs pushed him to settle into
bed, hoping beyond hope that Nemiah would come.
But he didn’t.
At least the bed was warm.

***

It’d been three days since he’d seen Nemiah, and wandering the halls hadn’t given him a
glimpse of his husband or an attendant that seemed to know more than that he was occupied in
his lab, as he was often to do. Kiara didn’t seem to think he should be bothered, either.
He’d found his mother-in-law in her office off the library that morning and had been
welcomed to her desk to aid in processing paperwork.
“It seems we’re receiving many congratulations for your nuptials and gifts.” She hummed
and passed over a few packages that had been opened already.
Virion stared at them curiously before opening boxes and peeking at the contents. Curious
baubles and folded tapestries revealed themselves. “I see.”
“You don’t have to feign enthusiasm. Just make a note of what it is and who gave it to you.
The attendants will find some corner of the castle to display it.”
“I see. This isn’t something I’m familiar with— What’s this?” Virion stared into a box of
carved animals, shaped of waxstone with brightly colored faces.
“Baby toys. Awful presumptuous, isn’t it?” Kiara gave a halfhearted huff of laughter before
turning a page in a trade manifest and squinting at it. “Ugh. You handle this, dear. I officially quit
doing trade manifests.”
Virion perked up and took the stack of papers, leafing through them. “See if cargo weight
and quantity matches proposed value and description of goods?” Virion leafed over a page and
pulled a fountain pen from her desk to make a few ticks. “I’m not familiar with the local
currency but it’s based on ten grams gold, a half oz of silver, five grams of silver, three grams of
copper, and a gram of salicate?”
“Dharni, lekma, chid, nik, and a chip,” she said, tallying off her fingers.
 “Ah. Thanks.” Virion muddled some notes on a scrap of parchment and was happy that they
used the same standard units as agreed upon in the allied nations. Usually, the currency traded
easily between kingdoms; only the face on the currency changed.
“That does remind me. Has your allowance been discussed, yet?” Kiara glanced over as
Virion flipped a page and ticked another line.
“No. Why would I need an allowance?” Virion blinked in surprise.
“It’s nice to be able to shop once in a while. I believe you’ll receive what I do, which is
three dharni a week. I don’t shop much. We used to get twenty, but I cut myself back since…”
She gestured about.
“Since?”
“We’re broke, dear. Nearly, anyway. Nemiah has money coming in from his inventions and
production, but that’s the only thing sparing us at the moment.” Kiara frowned, and Virion’s
stomach flopped.
“Is that why he’s in his lab and so desperate?” Virion frowned and took a shuddering breath,
fearful of what his father had forced him into.
“That’s part of it, I imagine. Never you mind. Once there’s an heir, things will improve a bit
as per our negotiations, but until then, we’ve got everything we need to function. Nobody will do
without. Our people are fed, our attendants well-compensated, but we will not have excess
luxury.”
“That’s comforting to know. I really appreciate how your first thoughts are for the people
being fed and attendants, not your own ostentation.” Virion flipped a page and frowned. Three
crates of imported wool pelts weighing far too much were brought over, but it matched to the
same shipment that had other red flags. “Think I found a rat anyway.”
Kiara glanced over and pursed her lips. “You certainly did. I’ll send tax collectors out that
way and fine him.”
“What’s the fine for something like this?”
“Oh, we assess them at the highest value per crate and weight and then fine them an
additional 20 percent on top of that. It’s not enough to bankrupt a company but enough to make
it far less prudent to cheat taxes.” She grinned and gave him a form letter to fill out for the
assessors to investigate. “It bothers me that this hadn’t been caught earlier.”
 Virion nodded, filled out the paperwork, and busied himself until dinner had passed and the
meal they’d brought him had grown cold. He ate a few bites and grumbled before warm hands
slid over his shoulders, giving him a peek of pink skin. Clover. “Good evening.”
“You need to rest, dear. Your eyes are tired.” Clover helped him tidy up, and Virion yawned
as they carried his leftovers out and back to the kitchens. Doing little things like that for himself
was a strange thing, but he rather enjoyed seeing the staff of the palace and how kind they were.
It made him feel like family.
“Thank you, Clover. You and your sisters are wonderful companions to me,” Virion said
after waving to the kitchen staff, who fussed over the amount he’d eaten. He should have eaten
more, he knew, but nerves and a certain kind of homesickness had settled in.
“If only your mate were to be so. Come, let’s get you a bath in the hot springs.” Clover
ushered him away and down the twisting stairs where Artemis joined them. Together, they
plucked him free of his clothes and left him with nothing more than a towel as he approached the
showers. He groaned with exhaustion and scrubbed himself nearly raw before striding out of the
shower and making his way to the familiar ledge of the springs.
A soft gasp caught his attention first. Then, eyes like opals in dark stone peered back at him
from the edge of the springs. “Nemiah?” Virion stepped back.
Virion had yet to see his mate shirtless, and what he saw was such a fine treat with taut
muscles on painfully dark skin. He was the epitome of night fae, his hair a matching silken spill
tightly wound over the steely hues of his flesh. A hairpin kept his braids from touching the
heavily mineral laden water. “Virion? I did not expect to see you here.”
“Ah. I, uh. I’ll leave if you like? I’m clean.”
“No need. Come. I’m in better spirits.” Nemiah swam a few feet away from him, eyes
boring holes as Virion hung his towel and strode into the water. Those twin pinpricks of color
raked him from head to the water’s surface, practically glowing with desire as his lids hooded.
“How have you fared with Mother? Is she driving you batty?”
Virion hadn’t seen the male in days, as if he were hiding from him. He’d sent no word or
spoken once. But rather than unleash a catty retort, Virion shrugged. “I’ve been poring through
shipping manifests to recoup some taxes.”
“And you can stand to do such menial work?” Nemiah continued his stare as Virion tied his
hair up with a leather thong.
 “Someone has to. I don’t mind it. Numbers are easy for me and I aided with manifest logs
often when Seidrik was behind.” Virion sank into the waters to cover his body, letting the
milkiness obscure everything Nemiah had locked his gaze upon.
Nemiah’s breath caught as he swam over, the lean lines of his form treading rivulets in the
flow that tickled up Virion’s chest. “Truly?”
Virion had noticed the schooled expressions that Nemiah kept and echoed them in his own
expression, holding back any reaction and affront. “Is it so difficult to imagine an omega good at
maths?”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Nemiah’s eyes narrowed into thin slits, that
blue barely visible amid the black of his sclera and pupil. “I ask if you do not mind doing it.”
“I grow bored, and it entertains my mind. Even a caged wildercat needs something to
occupy their mind or they grow violent.”
A soft grin twisted Nemiah’s lips as his eyes dipped to the water’s surface then up once
more, bringing them face-to-face. “You are no wildercat.”
Virion shrugged. “Perhaps you are a wildercat. With those sharp teeth and dark fur.” Virion
gave Nemiah his most seductive look and reached forward to trace a finger over his lower lip,
pulling the plumpness of it lower to reveal his purpled gums and sharpened fangs. “But what
would I be, if not a caged beast?”
Nemiah tilted his face and stuck his tongue out to take Virion’s finger in, pressing his lips in
with a flick and suckle before parting. His face twisted for a moment as he paused and pulled
free of Virion’s finger.
“The water is bitter, isn’t it?”
Nemiah’s expression broke, and Virion laughed, pulling back even as his cock twitched
traitorously. He was angry at Nemiah, he had to remind himself.
Nemiah’s lips pursed, and he turned his head to spit and cough. “Goddess. Ugh.”
“Something better to taste?” Virion offered as he leaned in, invading Nemiah’s space to
press their lips together. He decided he could be mad later, after he’d had an orgasm or two, let
his king take his ass and all that.
A long second passed as their lips sank into that familiar kiss, as fulfilling as their first when
their bonds were given. Sharp teeth scraped Virion’s tongue, drawing him into a shiver of
pleasure. With a gentle press of his palms, Virion trailed fingers down Nemiah’s chest and
slipped a hand over his growing hardness. Their lips didn’t break, but Nemiah’s breath hitched,
stopping and starting every few beats of his heart. Words, unsaid, petered out between them.
He was big, his cock thick and heavy in Virion’s hand after only a few slow strokes. “What
do you say, my husband? Can we try to finish what we started the other night?”
Nemiah’s hips pumped gently, his breath halting as his cock twitched in Virion’s hand. Lips
slowly pulling back, Nemiah broke the kiss. “We didn’t start anything. I did.” Despite breaking
the kiss, he didn’t stop Virion’s slow stroke as he pushed in, letting their bodies touch.
“Well, would you be interested in finishing it?” Virion brought their groins in together and
reseated his hand, pumping once more in a slow stroke.
“More so than you know,” Nemiah said, reaching around to cup Virion’s backside with a
gentle squeeze. “Goddess as my witness, I want to.”
Virion’s heart sank as his stomach twisted. “But you’re not going to?”
“Not tonight.” Nemiah hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his face up for a soft kiss over
his lips. “I want to be certain.” A firm hand pulled Virion away by his wrist, turning his back to
the king’s front.
“How can you not be certain?” Virion resisted the desperate urge to grind his ass back.
Remembering what it felt like to have that thick warmth between his thighs, grinding against the
tender skin of his crease. “You married me. You took responsibility for me. And you’re—”
“Not a good enough reason.” Nemiah nuzzled against Virion’s scalp and pulled away, the
splash of water growing quieter the farther he moved away until wet footsteps echoed. Resisting
looking around, Virion stared at the water’s surface, his cock wilting.
“When?” Despite the pool being still and Nemiah not being in the water, a few errant drops
splashed down, spreading from Virion’s stinging eyes.
“When it doesn’t feel like you’re doing it merely to appease me or some biological
imperative.” Nemiah’s footsteps plodded away, and Virion stared at the rippling water. “I do look
forward to it though.”
Virion wiped the tears from his eyes with a shudder.
The water stung.
 Chapter Ten
Nemiah

Nemiah draped an arm over his face and rolled over on his bed. He thanked the goddess
herself that their encounter was in the bath, where his strong omega scent wouldn’t plague him.
His very heart ached to be with him, to share a bed, to hold one another at the height of passion.
Things that he would understand that Virion wouldn’t. The headache that took him by storm
came far worse than the one before, an ice pick of pain behind his eyes, chipping away at his
resolve.
“Nemiah.” Jade’s, who Virion named Ivy, voice cooed from his doorway as she floated
through the air much like a curling ash caught in an updraft. “Your mate is upset.”
“Unfortunately, I am too.” Nemiah pulled a pillow over his head and groaned through the
headache.
“Did he do something?” She floated to his nightstand and placed a hot cup of something
with a bitter scent.
“No. He’s doing his best. I just can’t… I want to… I’m not my father and I will not take
advantage of him.” Nemiah didn’t bother hiding his pain or emotions from the nymph. He’d had
the poor girl since he was a toddler. “I want our binding to be true. I had relegated myself
to…never loving him, but our binding was fated. I need him and he doesn’t know anything but to
try and please me out of duty.”
“Fated? That’s a tough one, little boy.” Ivy floated over the bed and lay upon the covers,
snuggling up against him like she did when he was little. “Are you certain?”
“I am. He’s more than what I bargained for, and had he not been my fated, it would have
been easy to have bedded him and left him on his own…” Nemiah winced as the pain shot
through his mind and heart. Cool fingers raked over his temples, soothing his pains. “And he’s
smart, wickedly so.”
“Clever, observant, and ever so kind.” She cradled Nemiah as if he were a child, bringing
back memories of a terrified little boy hiding his tears from a father that had no patience, love, or
care for a child. Nemiah was his little protégé, but lacking in thirst. Despite how much King
Behran hated his only child, the goddess smiled upon him, so Nemiah could only bear so much
suffering from him before she showed signs of her loss of favor. “The goddess smiled on your
union, did she not?”
Nemiah nodded. “I feel like she’d be disappointed in me, that I put him through the
consummation. I fear that I’ve not pleased her in some way. She’s given me a gift, and I rubbed
my cock over it and lusted over him shamelessly.”
“Be patient. He’ll test his limits soon enough, you know? Perhaps some sort of gesture
would help?” Ivy kissed the back of his head and patted his shoulder. “I brought some willow tea
to you. Perhaps you should go speak to the goddess and stay in your lab for a while until you can
calm down.”
Nemiah groaned and swatted his hand about for the cup and sat up, wincing away the pain.
“I can’t sulk here all day, then, I suppose.”
“Good.” Ivy hummed and slipped from his bed, idly floating out toward the door, likely in
search of Nemiah’s mate. If it was hurting Nemiah to abstain, then there was a chance that he
hurt, too.
Goddess have mercy on me.
Nemiah rose from bed and slid on a pair of soft shoes, shuffling down the hall, his willow
tea in hand as he sipped and headed not toward his laboratory but to one of the towers, climbing
the long spiral to stare at the moon from an observatory window.
He knelt in supplication before the window and stared up at the waning face of the moon
above, a sign that she was turned away from the land. She’d still hear him though.
“Mother Goddess, moon above, I seek your answer.” Nemiah bore his horns and wings free
of himself, releasing the glamour that hid his features. The goddess blessed alphas and omegas
alone with those features as a way to find one another in ways that the betas could not stop them.
In flight.
Nemiah lit a black candle in the windowsill and stared at the flame as it petered out into a
light-blue flicker. “Please.” It wasn’t a common supplication, but the goddess favored him
dearly. His father had done so much damage and it was by her word that he had slain Behran.
Good evening, my son. The candle flickered as her ethereal voice floated by his senses.
“I felt your approval of my mate. I wanted to wait to choose him rightfully, but I had to take
him for the good of our country. King Alluin demanded it as part of our bargain. Thank you.”
I do favor the child. His magic suits you.
 “It does. I want for him so much, but waiting is hard, especially when he continues to throw
himself at me.” Nemiah sagged as he turned his gaze to the flame. It was hard to look into the
moon for too long, especially when he held such disappointment in himself.
You could never disappoint me. You were created from vileness and violation and I blessed
you to be loved, to fill a hole in a heart. I cannot change that which people choose to do, but I
can give people the choice to be happy. You are choosing your own path to happiness with him.
“I do not wish to be my father.”
If that is the case, open your heart. Do you think the boy has known an abundance of love or
care? He is accustomed to cold indifference, as it is familiar to him. I think your nymph has
given you a good idea. See to it, my son. Goodnight.
The flame went out in a flicker, and Nemiah sagged in mixed relief and determination.
“Thank you, Mother Goddess.”
Nemiah rose to his feet and stared up at the moon, taking in the paleness of her.
Motion caught the edge of his vision as he glanced away, a flit of white amidst the dark of
the courtyard. Virion stood in contrast. A soldier, stiff at his side, paced a few feet behind him,
guarding the male as he wandered the grounds in the waning light. He was a beautiful wisp
walking through the eve, and as his voice carried, a soft mutter that brought no meaning with it,
he remembered the Telecon idea and wanted nothing more than to bring it to fruition and show
his mate that he valued his mind. And he’d rub it in King Alluin’s face and prove to the man that
his beautiful son was ever as strong and smart as he’d never given him credit for.
As the fleeting moment watching his husband passed, Nemiah turned and made his way
back to his lab. Work needed to be done.

***

In truth, the transition from text to voice should have been an easy one. He had forty-eight
tones he could transmit and discern, but forty-eight tones weren’t enough to transmit voice. He
buried himself in his work, missing sleep and meals.
Piles of paper littered his workbench, and he laid his head down, eyes closed for just a
moment in the piles of parchment. A moment that must have been much longer, for when he
woke, his papers had been organized into three piles. It took him a few moments to realize what
the piles were as he stared between them. One pile was his correct work. Another pile was
incomplete and, thus, incorrect work. The third was a straightened-out pile of pages he’d
crumpled up. A few extra pages had been laid upon his correct pile, the handwriting neat and
crisp, lilted in the curt slant they taught in Liaberos.
An illustration and notes he’d never made laid a new design out for him. By attaching two
polar opposite magnets to a transducer, the fine vibrations of sound would create finer motions
and on the receiver end, the same two magnets could vibrate a pin against a tympanum, much
like sound would travel through a cadence chamber eliminating the need for tones all together!
Nemiah’s lips spread in a wide grin and a strange flopping dominated his stomach. He
wanted to find Virion and kiss him. The beautiful finish to his design was perfect, and he wanted
Virion to know how much he loved that brilliant mind. Love. The beautiful male had his heart in
flutters.
Amid all the notes was another, a curt note from his mother in her stilted lettering informing
him that there was a formal event in two days and to show up in a clean shirt. A fiefdom that
bordered a day and night fae kingdom had been taken over by his father’s army and was under
the tumultuous transition of leadership. They were mostly dusk fae, but they had resources to
offer, mostly in the realm of silver mines. Wooing them would be an imperative…
People split from moon and sun. Watched by both goddesses… Family split from kingdom to
kingdom with perilous borders… People that would want to speak to their loved ones.
He sat bolt upright and his stomach growled. Eyes wandering, he caught the sight of a cup of
tea with a saucer beside it, topped with a cold sandwich. He’d never asked for or been served one
before without first asking. The food was seen as something undignified, and certainly he’d
never had one like it before. It must have been at Virion’s behest. As attendants never entered his
lab, it was the logical conclusion.
He took a bite and savored it, fulfilling the need for something to get him through the next
few hours of interpreting Virion’s notes.
Well into the night, he caught himself pacing the office. He’d envisioned a coding system, a
translation system, something far more complex. But like two strings in a tin cup, the vibrations
were the code and the translation. Brains could do the rest. Thalmic interference in a mockery of
sound waves…
 He fished around his lab to find polished magnets and oriented them in a glass tube, rattling
a ball bearing against a small leather drum. From opposite sides of his lab, he transmitted,
listened, and repeated until the first rays of dawn when he had his first success. He had to swap
the ball for a nail and eventually the nail to a needle, but the vibrations carried and, while the
quality of the voice wasn’t as nice as a cadence chamber, it worked. The Telecon had officially
been created.
“My brilliant husband.” Nemiah sighed with a half grin before shuffling from his lab to his
living quarters to sleep until someone told him he had to wake. Maybe twenty or so hours.
 Chapter Eleven
Virion

Everyone in the castle had treated Virion like some fragile thing for days as Nemiah locked
himself in his laboratory. Every day in the castle grew a little lonelier, even with Kiara inserting
herself into Virion’s moments of self-pity.
“I’m sure he’ll be out sooner or later,” she said. Virion peered up from the shipping
manifests he’d been poring over for days. “But then again, he does obsess. He is his father’s son,
in some ways.”
Virion put the stack of papers in his hands down and stood. “If he’s not going to come to me
or come out, then I suppose I will have to come to him. Think he’d appreciate me bringing
something to eat?”
“Kitchen staff is home for the evening. Perhaps a cup of tea? Knock first because he gets
testy when someone comes into his laboratory without permission.” She sighed and pulled a
sliver of parchment out. “And do give him this note, please.”
Virion nodded and took the paper. Apparently, his first event with Nemiah was soon enough,
all the more reason to spend a few moments with his husband.
He strode to the kitchen and rustled through the cabinets for bread and meat. Not finding
what he was looking for, he went through the kitchen and assembled a sandwich out of what he
could find. Cheese and vegetables seemed readily available enough, as did a kettle of water and a
tin of tea.
Despite Virion not being very familiar with doing things for himself, out of necessity he’d
learned to fend for himself a little, as the amount of times his father had forbid him from
attending dinners had necessitated some degree of feeding himself.
Armed with food and tea, he strode toward Nemiah’s lab and put the tray in one hand before
knocking. Hearing no answer, he tried the handle and found it unlocked. He opened the door and
frowned. Nemiah had fallen asleep amid his work, snoozing gently.
Asleep, he seemed so harmless, his soft lips parted, his breaths a light hiss of air. He didn’t
seem nearly the threatening king he was when he stood tall. The sight made Virion wonder if
maybe he should let the male sleep…until he glanced over the pile of papers before him and saw
the complicated mass of calculations and designs for the Telecon he’d proposed only a few days
before.
Virion’s cheeks went hot as he gently unfolded crumpled papers and sorted the slices of
parchment into three piles. Necessary, unnecessary, and incorrect. He organized the necessary
documents and studied them for a few minutes. Not all of them were designs or notes, but a few
had mentions of Virion’s thoughts and vague wonders of what they could accomplish together.
Even so, he’d gotten so needlessly complicated with the idea that he’d not even thought about
how sound traveled. The waves made sound. A transducer should have been able to just elevate
frequency to vibration and transmit sound almost instantaneously. He timidly plucked a pen from
Nemiah’s table and wrote out his thoughts, laying it with the corrected papers and topped it with
his mother’s note.
Knowing he shouldn’t wake Nemiah, Virion leaned down and kissed his temple, whispering
on his way up. “You are as frustrating as you are interesting, but I may yet grow to love you.”
No male had ever taken Virion’s thoughts into consideration, seen him as something other
than a hole to fuck. Nemiah had taken his word seriously, had believed him, and sought to show
him how much he thought of his mind.
Nemiah had a reputation of being as cold as his father, and his temper had yet to be
witnessed, but Virion had a growing sensation as he peered out a lonely window on his way back
to the study that the goddess moon looked down upon him. The face of it, intense and sallow,
brought an emotion to his heart—one he wasn’t familiar with. Infatuation. If he didn’t get to bed
his mate soon, he might have to take matters into his own hand so to speak. He couldn’t even
jerk off with the nymphs around, and it was driving him stir-crazy.

***

Nemiah slept for almost two days after his sequestration, which Kiara assured him was a
common occurrence. It did nothing to quell Virion’s rising libido or his desire to spend time with
his husband.
“Hold still, Virion. I need to get your eye makeup right!” Artemis fussed as she licked her
thumb and rubbed under his eye to erase the lamp black she’d painted. “Or is this too feminine
for you? It’s the current style for omega males.”
 “No, I’m fine with a little eye makeup. I can’t sit still.” Virion kept his eyes open and stared
up at the ceiling while she attacked his lashes with the black as well.
They’d previously dyed his brows when he lived in Liaberos and among the Drashil, it was
no different. The frame of his eyes needed to be lined and made visible to not wash his features
out. “You’ve such beautiful aspects. A shame to waste them on Nemiah’s likes.”
“Would that it was wasted? He’s not paid me a minute’s heed since the baths near a week
ago.” Virion’s eyes watered from the lamp black, and he flicked his gaze upward and gave a
fleeting blink so as not to smear the work.
“I think he’s found something he’s excited over. Once this project is done, he’ll rejoin polite
society until the next interesting thing comes along.” Clover rolled her eyes as she draped cloth
over shoulders and patted powder over Virion’s chin after her needless plucking. He’d never
managed to grow but the odd hair before, but he was so pale none could tell. Perfection was the
image of a Blessed Prince.
“The least he could have done was greeted me, even once?” Virion sneered as Ivy swatted
his shoulder.
“Straighten up and smile. You’ve done well this week.” Ivy shoved him by the shoulders as
Queen Kiara came by, peering into the bedroom as Virion slipped into his shoes.
“Is Nemiah here with you yet?”
“Of course not.” Virion sighed and marched past her, halting a few feet from his door.
Nemiah turned the corner and halted, eyes wide but face impassive. “Found him.”
“Husband. Mother.” Nemiah frowned and rolled his shoulders, letting his horns push free
before approaching Virion with his eyes nearly aglow. “Show your mark.” Nemiah palmed the
side of his face, fingers warm and inviting. It’d feel even better cupping his balls and stroking his
d—
“Come, you two, no flirtations before business. You can dillydally later.” Kiara broke them
apart and waved the nymphs off as she led them away. Not for the first time, Virion felt tired and
childish, made even worse by his desire to pout and ignore the tall, dark, and handsome moon
prince.
“I wasn’t dillydallying, Mother.” Nemiah sighed and took Virion by his elbow.
 “Not yet, you aren’t.” She glanced Nemiah up and down with a curt frown and shooed them
off, flicking Virion’s horns as he went by. The unpleasant reverberation made him wince and
hiss.
When they reached the grand hall, where last Virion had gone when he was wed to Nemiah,
it had been changed significantly, decorated more for ballroom affairs than it was for a wedding.
“King Nemiah of Drashil,” a caller announced as Virion lowered his head and attempted to
step back. Instead, soft hands pushed him forward and Nemiah hooked his arm. “Prince Consort
Virion.”
The title hit him harder than a slap would have, acknowledging him as not a Blessed Prince,
nor omega, but the partner to their king. He almost stumbled as they announced Queen Kiara.
Her demure nod accepted the announcement amid the eyes of many people, mingled dusk, moon,
and sun. A testament to the mixed nature of the kingdom.
Nemiah’s gaze turned politely to the stage, drawing Virion’s attention to two posts covered
in a dark sheet, hiding them from view. Virion, for his part, still reeled at his announcement until
Nemiah’s impassive expression turned shrewd and amused.
Almost flirtatiously, he took Virion’s hand and guided him into the crowd, his smile far too
genial and calm for what he’d done to him. So many days spent ignoring him was grounds for a
tantrum if anything ever was, not that he’d ever been successful with them in Liaberos. He held
his tongue and smiled, though, as Nemiah swept him about, introducing him to lords and ladies,
as well as the occasional merchant.
It was far different from what they did in his home kingdom, ignoring merchants and lower
nobility, keeping attentions directed toward the upper echelon so that the lower thirsted for a
moment of attention. But Nemiah was not that way. Everyone held his gaze with equal grace.
As much as Virion wanted to ignore the male and be surly, he held a little more respect for
him by the day.
Walking through the crowd, Virion dipped his head as people smiled at him, giving them a
genial smile in return. Distracted by a female noble of some variety, Virion accepted a polite
compliment and jumped when a hand circled his waist and gently pulled him away.
“Come, husband. We’ve strategic mingling to do.” Nemiah’s flat voice held a note of
endearment that he should have shown in the days prior.
 “I do apologize. I have not been given the opportunity to learn your cues, my lor—” Virion
said, his voice a sharp whisper halted when Nemiah’s hand tightened on his waist.
“Need I remind you my name? I will accept your ire at a later date, but now is not the time
to test me. Do you understand?” Nemiah bared a hint of fang and turned his head back with a
seamless transition to an almost smile. He shook the hand of a passing merchant and listened
dutifully when the man tried to pitch his wares.
It was neither the time nor place, but Nemiah handled it genially. “I’m a little short on time
this evening, but please do reach out to my page, Reimun. He’s wearing the gold crest and is by
the north entrance. Do tell him I give you high priority. I’ve heard good things about your
produce of late.”
As the merchant strode away, excitement bright in his eyes, Virion cut his gaze sharply.
“From who, exactly? Have you been speaking to many people, or am I the only one that has been
deprived of you?”
“Such a tongue you have this evening.” Nemiah’s grip tightened for a fraction of a second
before loosening.
“It’s not had anywhere to go.” Virion sniffed and turned his attention elsewhere, his voice
low as he offered a sweet smile to a well-wishing woman that strode by.
“Between your teeth is an excellent start, my husband.” Nemiah’s scathing low tones did
something strange to Virion, making his stomach flop and cock twitch with interest.
“Like your maleness?” Virion cut his gaze to Nemiah as he raised a single brow.
“Assumptive little rabbit, are you not? You’re not making way in convincing me to put my
maleness anywhere near your lips.” Nemiah’s low rumble held a note of amusement.
Virion schooled his reaction, keeping his gaze cool. Those dark sclera of his were so
encompassing, the blue in the irises electric. “Once I hit my fertile time, we’ll see how long that
resolve of yours lasts.”
Nemiah had a goal in mind, wandering the crowd with smiles and genial waves. “I have
excellent self-control.”
“I noticed. It’s infuriating when I’m attempting to seduce my husband and he rejects and
avoids me at every turn.” Virion sighed and the surrounding lights changed, the sound of the
crowd dimming as they strode out onto a terrace into the dark of the evening. Two guards
followed them and swept the area before retreating, drawing Virion’s gaze for a second before
Nemiah pushed Virion against cold brick and lowered his head, letting their horns clack with a
gentle motion.
The hand on his waist pinned him by his hip to the wall. Sharp rock edges from the hewn
form of it cradled him, the only buffer his husband’s fingers as metal rings ground into stone
with a light creak. “I don’t reject you because I do not want you. I reject you because it shouldn’t
be your duty to do so. Do you understand?”
Virion’s cock traitorously pulsed, thickening against his Nemiah’s pressure, their bodies
sidling against one another. A gentle press of Nemiah’s warm thigh sidled between Virion’s legs
and it was everything he could do to stifle a moan. The soft breath that broke free of his lips
danced over Nemiah’s as he dipped down to capture him into a lingering kiss. One far sweeter
than the fierce ones they’d shared.
“M-my duty is to provide you an heir. D-didn’t say I c-couldn’t have fun in the process.”
Virion lost the battle and whimpered against Nemiah’s lips.
“Why?” Nemiah brushed his lips over Virion’s cheek and to his ear, nipping slightly.
“Is it so hard to believe I find you endearing and attractive, my husband?”
“I’ve not given you much time to fall for me.” Nemiah nipped his sharp teeth onto the soft
lobe of Virion’s ear, making his cock pulse.
“What reason have you given me to hate you? You gave me companions on my first night.
You spared me indignities. You saw my ideas and thought them worthwhile. You value me. Why
would I not want to?” Virion’s voice muffled out amid Nemiah’s lips wandering to his neck,
nipping almost affectionately.
“You’d forgive me for locking myself away? Just like that?” Nemiah suckled a spot, his
tongue lapping at the place apologetically after, so as not to leave a mark.
“Not without some apologies. Preferably on your knees.” Virion’s voice came out a little
shriller than he intended.
“I think that can be ar—” Nemiah’s head jerked at the shift of door panels aside them,
Queen Kiara striding out with an imperious glance. “Mother…”
Nemiah didn’t pull away, his grip still tight on Virion’s hip, a gentle hardness pushing in
with a hopeful pulse that almost immediately softened.
“As much as I look forward to being a grandmother, could you please control yourself for
another hour or so? The music numbers dwindle and people are ever so excited to hear what you
have to say.” She flicked an amused glance to meet Virion’s eyes. His disappointment must have
been evident judging by her sharp smirk. “I’ll give you two a moment to calm down.” She turned
and closed the doors behind her, an amused tone tilting her voice as she made some snide
comment about the two seeking council.
“Is that what we’re calling this? An apology?” Virion sagged a little as Nemiah pulled back
and straightened his clothing.
“Clover!” Nemiah paid his quip no mind before turning about until the vision of pink floated
out of some side window and onto the balcony with an amused smirk.
“Nemiah. Virion.” She nodded to each of them as that impish light danced in her pale eyes.
“Virion will sleep in my chambers tonight. See to it that things are prepared for his rest.”
Nemiah’s face remained impassive, but Virion’s heart stuttered with elation, his lulling erection
giving a hopeful twitch before he willed it away.
“Does our contracted agree to said arrangement?” Clover glanced to Virion, head canted.
“Contracted? Me? Oh. Yes. I do agree. Please. It is only right that… It’s only—I wish to
share a bed with my husband. Tonight, at least. If he wills it, too.”
Clover shrugged and smiled before floating off, the leaves and flowers of her clothing
always a single breeze away from total indecency. “As it is requested, so shall we listen. Sisters!”
Clover dove off the terrace and floated down to what must have been Virion’s window and
slipped into the narrow panel with impossible grace.
“There. Do try to be in better spirits, my husband.” Nemiah offered a flat smile, one that
held far more mirth than it implied by the gleam in his eyes alone.
 Chapter Twelve
Nemiah

Nemiah adjusted his impossible hardness one last time before entering the hall with his most
imperious expression. Wary gazes cast about as Virion patted his hair into place and followed
with pink cheeks and a crooked collar. With a gentle gesture, Nemiah leaned over and flipped it
into place with a lingering touch that soothed not only Virion but the anticipatory people
congregating. Taking his mate aside for council wouldn’t have been a pleasant thing for his
father.
Virion, either showing off or oblivious to the gesture, brushed fingertips laden with magic
about his hair to tuck errant strands into place. Well-earned envious glances and whispers
followed them as Nemiah strode to the stage above the gallery, where the thrones had been
pushed aside to display the covered Telecons.
The music died down and Nemiah drew Virion to stand with him, the sweet male keeping
his gaze drawn and hesitant, as if he were merely for show. So integral he’d been… Nemiah
wondered if he didn’t know.
Attention and murmurs focused on the stage and wandering bodies drew in, whispers of
anticipation petering out as Nemiah took Virion’s hand and grinned. “I suppose you all have
wondered what these obelisks of obfuscation are!”
A murmur of agreement passed through before Nemiah couldn’t help the grin that split his
face with an unfamiliar stretch. “For months, I’ve been hard at work developing faster ways of
communication and trade. At our far corner of the world, we are disadvantaged. We’re the last to
hear of news, the first to lose profit on trade. Our goods are short-lived.”
Agreement simmered among the gazes of dusk, day, and night fae alike as Nemiah gestured
for Virion to pull the sheets free. Obediently, he turned and did so, almost as if he was grateful to
no longer face the gawking crowd.
“The thalmway comes! King Alluin of Liaberos has entered an agreement with us. We have
blood ties to thrive! And within a year’s time, our swords shall be hammered into rail, and no
soldier will be forced to part from his family for more than a few weeks at a time. Such will be
afforded us the world to travel!” Nemiah folded his hands behind his back, the rustle of sheets
and hesitant step of his husband a constant heed at the back of his mind.
A soft wave of clapping a tad more enthusiastic than polite passed through the crowd. So
many of them stood to profit. So many soldiers would come home with work and coin. Bored
soldiers were the bane of a kingdom.
“And so my union with Virion was arranged, and he came to me with brilliance in him!”
Nemiah caught Virion as he returned and pulled him in. “For I’ve been working on my latest, a
means of communication by thalm, messages in minutes to nations as far away as Croatens!”
Gasps passed about.
“But words and letters will only satisfy you so much. Letters take weeks and months, the
passing of seasons gone before a war-torn wife can receive her husband’s missive!” Nemiah
reveled in the gentle sensation of the male next to him tensing. “And tirelessly I worked for
letters alone until Virion laid his hands upon my work and mind, imparting upon me great
knowledge and designs to do so much more. Your Silver Prince has given us telethalmic
conversation, a way to speak to one nations away, as if they were no farther than whispering in
your ear!”
Nemiah glanced to the side and reveled in the wide-eyed wonder of his mate, unaccustomed
to being praised so highly, or likely even credited. The pinkness in his cheeks from lust returned
brighter than before, and Nemiah might have assumed it to be shyness alone, save for how his
pretty pink eyes lingered on him.
“My new son-in-law is so very smart and talented. In mere hours, he solved what took my
son months as if it were nothing. As the kingdom well knows, I spare no praise for my son, and
my new son is no different. I feel he has come to brighten our lives and prospects.” Queen Kiara
stared at the machines as she glanced from one to the other. “Two minds are better than one.”
Murmurs passed about as Nemiah invited a few people at a time to come test the machines.
They whirred with life, the thalmic static in the air trembling as voices went from one
machine to the next with tinny relay. The sound quality could be improved over time, Nemiah
was certain. The technology was new, in its infancy, but this was not the thalmway. This needed
no rail, only a larger generator to project.
Tears in eyes brightened as people spoke of being able to speak to long-distant children and
lovers in different nations for a time. Business consorts and daughters sent off to marry well.
 One woman had only just learned her daughter carried a child almost a year ago but had
only received the letter announcing her first grandson’s birth a week ago. She longed to hear her
daughter’s voice, to visit her once. Nemiah wondered if Virion would have anyone he missed
enough to call or visit. Nemiah had assumed, at first, that he would.
Since their ceremony, he wasn’t so sure.
“My husband has yet to see what I’ve done with his design with his own eyes. I invite him
to take the other Telecon.” Nemiah cleared the area and Virion approached the station uneasily.
The design was intuitive, a lever flipped to connect that would initiate reception and
projection on his end. He flipped it and Nemiah approached his, engaging his lever.
“Is it how you envisioned?” Nemiah spoke into the receiver.
From the angle Nemiah stood, he couldn’t see Virion’s face, but the words came through
clear, if a little like it were from a bucket…which may or may not have been one of the
resonance components.
“You’ve executed it as I imagined. Did you change anything? It’s so much better than I
pictured.” Virion’s posture shifted and hands wandered, as if exploring the device.
“Only the materials for a few things I didn’t have at my disposal. The bearing idea I had to
swap for a needle on a tympanum because the ball bearings I had didn’t want to carry sound as
crisply.” Nemiah quieted to give Virion a chance to interject.
“I probably should have specified that the bearings I was referring to were glass, but this
works superbly!” Virion’s breathy voice sounded so distant but achingly sweet.
“I see. They’d rattle much easier…” Nemiah sighed happily. “They can all see how great
you are, my husband.”
“You’ve already got me in your bed this eve. Why do you still insist on seducing me?”
“Oh, I’ve only begun to seduce you, my sweetest Sugarmoth.”
Virion laughed, the sound so sweet. “Oh, I will flock to your sweetness and nestle amid your
blossoms to drink of you and take your pollen.”
Nemiah, for the first time since he was a very young boy, felt his cheeks light aflame. He
pulled back, clearing his throat. “Yes. I see. I think the demonstration is over.” Nemiah flipped
the switch and pulled back.
Polite chuckles spread about, and Nemiah plucked his pocket square free to daub at his
cheeks to cool the sensation.
 “Young love,” someone cooed, their voice a whisper, countered with a soft, “It’s a political
arrangement.”
The first voice rebutted. “The fates have made worse choices. Our king smiles for him.”
Nemiah wanted to wipe the grin from his face, adapt his dour attitude once more. Instinct
told him that sweet fondness he held for Virion was a weakness someone would exploit. But let
them try. Nemiah pushed his urges back. The mere thought of having Virion threatened made his
wings itch within his soul and horns throb with magic. “I think we all can agree that the moon
has made what appears to be a wise choice.”
Nemiah’s voice cracked, but when Virion’s demure face met his own with a knowing purse
of his lips, there was no need to posture. He swept Virion into one arm to his side, tilted his head
down to touch their horns, and brush their lips in a chaste kiss. Every fiber of their beings
hummed with need.
“So it seems.” Virion shuddered against Nemiah and pulled his face away, inches shy of
kissing distance. “We will make many beautiful things together.”
Nemiah knew they would. Children aside, Virion would continue to bless Nemiah with
bountiful magic and brilliant thought. “Or you will, and I’ll be witness and facilitator.”
Virion’s lovely face fell as Nemiah pulled away. The impassive stare of someone who bit
their tongue fell back into place, and he stood back as many approached to ask questions and
receive answers as to when units could go into production. Nemiah had those answers, but Virion
could only stand to the side and nod politely, offering a curt smile as his mother flitted about and
soothed nerves, directing people to his page to take notes and make appointments. Dealing with
people en masse wasn’t Nemiah’s forte, but he was strategic at redirecting people.
Each passing second and polite conversation dragged on as the wine wore thin. Not that they
didn’t have more in reserves, but the amount of wine designated for a party was a polite way of
indicating when guests should go their separate ways.
Someone pressed a cup into Virion’s hands and he smiled graciously, brushing off the male’s
attention with a demure nod. Nemiah bristled but immediately soothed his temper when Virion
turned those pretty eyes of his to him and smiled before taking a sip.
Drink faster, dammit! There was far more wine left than patience, and Nemiah buried down
his own frustrations into the pit of his soul.
 “Dear, should I have an attendant go fetch an extra cask?” his mother’s needling voice made
his hackles rise. The male that’d given Virion a drink leered and attempted to brush a finger over
his shoulder.
“No!” Nemiah’s snarl escaped his mouth before his mind could temper it. Whatever
expression tore his face apart made Kiara whimper.
The flare came with a pulse of his magic and to his utter dismay, she flinched away from
him and Virion jumped, startling the suitor away. “I-I only spoke in jest.”
Distracted from his anger at the tactless guest, Nemiah refocused on his stricken mother.
“Mother! I—Virion.” Nemiah glanced between the two. Of them, Virion had recovered from
the snap, but the fear quickened in his mother’s eyes, much like it often did when his father was
in one of his moods. “I’m not angry. I am okay. You’re okay, Mother. Would you like me to get
your handmaid and go for a lie down?”
“I—I think I’ll be okay. I—” Kiara couldn’t look him in the eyes and Virion, as if sensing
something was the matter, stepped in.
“How about we go step out for a stroll, Mother? The wine is strong and we could use some
fresh air.” Virion smiled and guided Kiara away as her face melted into a model of relief.
Expression understanding and polite, he bid a few men and ladies farewell as they retreated. And
if Nemiah scented sunderleaf later on, he’d say nothing of it.
Unable to comfort his mother, Nemiah took a deep breath and assured those closest who’d
witnessed his snap that it was merely a knee-jerk reaction and entirely to blame on a lack of sleep
and the newness of his mating bond.
Soothed, they went back to the soiree, trickling out one by one as the wine told them they’d
stayed their welcome. Though, no sign of Virion’s admirer remained other than the half-
consumed glass. He finished it with a hard swallow.
Nemiah sagged when he saw the last of the guests out, putting those staying at the palace
into the capable hands of attendants. After, finding his mother and mate would be the highest
priority.
He strode his way from the ballroom as attendants swept in to take glasses and goblets.
Patisserie had been largely left untouched, as the mood had faded when everyone was nibbling a
little before departure. And with Virion and Kiara having left as it was being served, Nemiah
found it prudent to carry a few plates with him as a peace offering.
 Walking down the hall, Nemiah mulled the words over in his head, one foot in front of the
other. He needed to apologize to his mother, soothe her nerves, and make peace with his mate if
not eventually harsh and unrelenting love. Like. He’d make harsh and unrelenting like. Love was
too sure of a word to speak to the male, yet.
He loved Virion. He was beautiful in mind, heart and body. He comforted Kiara when
Nemiah couldn’t. They complemented one another, and perhaps the goddess knew that with
Nemiah’s flaws, a partner would need to have unending patience, a modicum of determination,
and accustom themselves to a lack of forthright affection.
Perhaps Nemiah could rectify that last one.
His mind snapped from the thoughts when the sweet scent of his mate and sunderleaf
ensnared him.
At the end of their dwelling hall, two doors swung open at the behest of the standing guards,
allowing Nemiah in.
Amid the quiet of the hall runner, the hush of voices—more than Virion and his mother—
met his ears. The nymphs and her personal handmaid. And surprisingly, there was no sunderleaf,
but the fact that Nemiah brought extras figuring they’d be giving into the temptation of hunger it
sometimes caused meant he had enough for everyone and looked that much more the better.
He approached his mother’s quarters, the door ajar, but he dared not enter without a soft
knock. He tapped with his foot, the steel toe of his boot enough to catch their attention with a
polite rap.
Nyem, his mother’s maid, popped her head free. The steel in her long locks hung loose and
flowing, a sign of her age. She’d been with Kiara since she was little, born in the Dusklands,
herself. “Pri—King.” Her acknowledgement came out dry and flat.
“I bring peace offerings. I apologize for my outburst. It was a knee-jerk reaction.” Nemiah
bowed his head.
She hummed under her breath and frowned. “Your father was good at that, lashing out and
showering your mother as an apology.”
“I spoke tersely and loudly. I broke my peace and for that I apologize. I am not asking to be
forgiven. I want everyone to know it slipped and I am better than that. And that I happen to have
their desserts with me, so be it.” Nemiah offered her his best smile that seemed to appease her
with a grunt of approval.
 “I’d have you on your knees, but you might drop the cake.” She opened the door fully,
drawing the bright room into view.
His mom sat on a lounge, eyes glassine with the threat of tears unshed. Virion sat beside her,
brushing her hair, feet crossed under him as he tended her.
“Isn’t that Nyem’s duty?” Nemiah sat the plates down and seated himself in an empty chair,
earning a glare from the nymphs floating nearby.
“If she needed her hair combed, likely, but I wanted to do this. I did it for my sister often
when she was little to make her feel better.” Virion brushed through her hair a few more times,
fawning over the steely locks. Rather unlike his own, reminding him of their unshared blood.
The fierce black hair was a preference of hers and his father’s and it gave them a bond. It was
easier to pretend she was his birth parent and not the omega his father had ensnared.
“Does it make you feel better, Mother?” Nemiah glanced toward the sweets.
“I think so.” Her voice came forth weakly.
“I do apologize, Mother.” Nemiah bowed his head.
“I shouldn’t have teased you. I overreacted a bit.” She canted her gaze toward Virion, who
nodded sagely.
“But not without understandable reason. We’re calm, taking deep breaths, and we’re happy.
And there’s dessert!” Virion tucked her hair behind a neatly pointed ear.
“Thank you.” Kiara patted Virion’s knee. “You’re forgiven, Nemiah. You have your father’s
reactivity and none of his venom, but it is so hard not to still see him at times. Virion was an
excellent help.”
“Had I heard what you said, I’d have been shouting with him. I’m quite anxious to see if our
Nemiah has cold feet or snores.” Virion glanced over and winked. Watching him there with
Kiara, soothing her so naturally, made Nemiah’s heart swell.
“Both, I’m afraid,” Nemiah said. He nodded sagely, allowing his mask to lower for a
moment and pull at the corner of his mouth in what he’d been told was an attractive smirk.
Virion stared at him for far too long of a moment before glancing up and down, taking in his
body in a blatant display. “Eh, you look worth it.”
Heat flushed through the tips of Nemiah’s ears, and giggles spread among the nymphs.
 “I think the mood is ruined. I apologize.” Nemiah sighed and slumped back in his seat,
jolting when Virion crawled over his mother’s lap, onto his lounge, and sat on the arm next to
him, proffering a bite of dessert on the end of a slender fork.
Taking the gesture for what it was, a peace offering, Nemiah leaned forward and wrapped
his lips around the end of the fork, drawing the sweetness of winterberry tart into his mouth. “I
take it you do not see me as a monster?”
“A very small monster.” Virion gave a curt nod and before Nemiah could protest, forced
another bite into his mouth.
“I beg to differ.” Nemiah sniffed. “I’m an enormous—”
“Horse’s ass.” Ivy floated by, her misty eyes full of ire and amusement.
Virion and Kiara laughed heartily, and their smiles returned. Dessert in private company was
always far better than that of those silly events.
“Question, aren’t you worried someone will steal your ideas when you show them off like
that?” Virion canted his head.
“And if they do? They start industry, provide jobs, bring taxes in, and the kingdom profits
anyway. I’ve never had it happen before as they all know since I use tax moneys to research that
my finds are available for lease to those who can show talent and make agreement. I charge a
nominal fee.” Nemiah grinned. “And I don’t allow merchants to have exclusivities.”
“Yet you gave my father one.” Virion took a quick bite.
“For Liaberos, where I have no control, yes. He still needs my cars and designs to run them.
Very few have access to both mechathalmists and artisans and blacksteel. It’s a lot of
coordination to achieve for someone interested in cheating people. What industry would last long
that way?” Nemiah grinned and Virion’s face fell.
“Father makes sure his dearest rodents prosper.” Virion sniffed but still offered a bite, even if
much smaller.
Nemiah took the opportunity to steal the fork and take another bite for himself. “A means to
an end, I’m afraid.”
“Much like me?” Virion’s face didn’t hold any ire.
“If you weren’t so likeable, I’d agree with you. We’d still be making arrangements to agree
upon what I’d need to do to keep you comfortable and obtain an heir so we could each go our
ways and find acceptable lovers for one another.” Nemiah went to steal another bite and found
Virion holding the plate away.
“You’d allow that?” Virion wrinkled his lips as if he found the idea distasteful, and
something about that made Nemiah’s heart warm.
Kiara snorted. “That’s what most nobles do, dear. Moon knows that I’ve had my fair share
of dalliances and Behran had an appetite. Get your heir and move on.” She made a halfhearted
gesture. “It’s expected.”
Virion averted his gaze and jolted when Nemiah stole the last bite of tart, gasping with
indignance.
Nemiah grinned and lost himself in those mock-furious eyes until he blinked in surprise, the
nymphs leaving.
 Chapter Thirteen
Virion

“As much as I do love your company, I think I’d best go to sleep.” Kiara gave an
exaggerated yawn, and Virion only at that moment realized the nymphs had gone and Nyem was
doing her best to shoo them away like scolded children.
Virion placed his plate and utensil on the accent table and stood, ready to head toward his
own quarters.
He bid goodnight and turned at the door, only to be turned with Nemiah’s hand. “Would you
like me to walk you to your room or…”
The hopeful tone in Nemiah’s voice made Virion desperate to offer him a taste of omega
mischief, but he’d already been punished enough that evening. “I think the nymphs already had
plans. I’d hate to deny them their night off.”
“I believe we were denied, but would you like me to carry you to our marital chambers?”
Nemiah’s half smirk of a grin made Virion’s breath tremble.
It’d been so long since Virion had released, longer still since he was able to pleasure himself
in the way an omega most craved. “I shall accept my husband carrying me to our bedchambers
for the ritual deflowering.” Virion snorted with laughter and gasped when Nemiah scooped him
up in his broad arms, his eyes shimmering with thalmic power.
It hummed under his skin, the energy of their magic, every point of contact between them a
buzzing point that sent his nerves on tingling fire. Virion couldn’t contain the soft noise that
escaped his lips, earning a fiery-eyed glance from his husband.
From what Virion had seen, he was a dedicated male, infatuated with his work and deeply
invested in morality. He’d seen the worst from his father, as Virion had seen the opposite end of
that spectrum. Alluin was not dishonorable, but he was without empathy and held outdated
views. He’d spared Virion the humiliation of being rejected, the indignity of forceful penetration,
and had done his best to show how very much he valued his mind.
Drashili were rumored to have been rough lovers, passionate and inconsolable, unsuitable
partners for a civilized fae of high sun lineage, especially one as pale and fine as Virion. Though,
the more Nemiah stared at him, the more he wondered if his paleness was meant for the moon.
 As if reading Virion’s mind, Nemiah whispered, “You’re like moonlight, you know that? I
see the goddess in you.”
Cheeks heating, Virion tilted his head back and allowed the glamour to slip free of his horns.
They were such pretty things, he knew, alluring to even betas that saw them. They held the
silvery pearl of his hair, pronged with thin, dangerous tines that clicked deliciously against
Nemiah’s bullish ones.
The dwarves of Likwyf believed in star signs in the skies that could tell tales about the
person someone was by their birth alone. The humans judged by the year, while the fae told the
tales of someone’s heart by their horns.
A ram’s horns meant they’d be stubborn. Each ridge they acquired through life a hurtle of
their own design.
An alpha with a steer’s horns meant many things, but strength was foremost. Pointing to the
sides of their head meant they’d have a magnificent presence and take up much space while
regarding others little. Pointed back would be strength through submission, but Nemiah’s pointed
nearly straight up. Virion caught himself reaching toward one curiously. “What does it mean if it
stands up?”
“Hm?” Nemiah adjusted his footing and Virion was barely aware of his personal guards
shuffling a door open.
“If they stand up. Your horns.”
“Yours stand up, too.” Nemiah’s heated gaze bore into Virion.
“But mine are antlers. When antlers point up, it’s because I am alert. The tines mark me as
delicate.” Virion bit his lower lip as his cheeks heated.
“It means, you pay attention to small details, as do I. We’ll notice things others won’t. If you
believe that old crone’s tale.” Nemiah chuckled and the world around them shifted as Virion
found himself deposited onto a very plainly clothed four-poster bed. Ostentation had been done
away with in favor of luxurious comfort.
“I don’t know if I do believe.” Virion whined as Nemiah pulled himself back and moved to
shut the bedroom door.
Nemiah returned to the bed, tugging loose his cravat. The soft fabric met its end somewhere
over the side of the bed as a welcome, warm hand slid up Virion’s side. “You’ve had to be
observant and vigilant. You’ve had to be ten times better than anyone around you to get a sliver
of their recognition.” Bare fingertips brushed above the hem of his trousers, pushing his pretty
tunic up.
“I can unbutton it,” Virion said, pawing at his duffel buttons, the bone toggles clicking under
his nails.
“Patience,” Nemiah said. He leaned down to kiss over Virion’s throat, tracing his sharp teeth
over the vulnerable flesh. Hot breath and the barest brush of hair and skin made Virion’s already
plump cock twitch, hardening down a trouser leg. “Unless you want me to remove my hand?”
“Do what you must.” Virion’s voice trembled and Nemiah’s expression went wooden and
heavy breaths slowed.
“Either we go into this enthusiastically, or we don’t at all.” Nemiah pulled his hand back,
lessening the contact until his palm rested on his hip, gently massaging.
“I’m enthused! I promise. Please. I don’t want to push you.” Virion lifted a hand and cupped
the back of Nemiah’s head. He twined his fingers through the fine, plentiful strands of silken
hair, gripping so close to his horn.
“Okay. So, can I take this tunic off?” Nemiah drew his hand up and toyed with a button at
his neck. Breathless, Virion nodded. The prospect of it finally happening made every nerve in his
body light on fire. A single finger plucked one button after another, the skill of his flicks parting
the brocade down his chest to expose the flesh beneath. A sharp nail trailed back up his belly, his
sternum, then along his neck, leaving that strange rippling sensation of goose bumps in its wake.
Virion took it as permission and gained a little awareness, fingers shaking while he undid the
fasteners on Nemiah’s jacket, frustrated at his tunic beneath being the sort to pull over his head.
“Impatient little Sugarmoth. Am I the sweetness you crave to flutter about me so?”
“Probably a lantern. Your magic shines so brightly,” Virion said. “And I cannot stop myself
from butting into you.”
The sniff of laughter died in Nemiah’s throat as he leaned down and crushed a punishing
kiss against Virion’s mouth. Their whimpering moans a chorus of frustration, shoulders rolling
and legs struggling as they fought free of their stuffy clothes. “I’m going to kiss you. Keep
kissing you as we grind together. Gonna make you come just from my touch before I bury myself
in you and knot you to my heart’s content.”
Virion’s breath caught in his throat, a halted hiss that froze when Nemiah’s hand circled his
waist as if asking permission. “Do it.”
 Thankfully, Nemiah listened, drawing the strings of his linen pants to let the silk cords fall
astray until their glorious bare cocks could touch through thin, soft fabric, woven silk from rare
butterfly cocoons spent after their summer hatching. The gift of them in his dresser had been a
small pleasure amid the wanton nights he spent praying Nemiah would sneak into his quarters.
It only occurred to Virion, then, that Nemiah may have waited for that, too. “Should I have
been brazen enough to sneak into your chambers at night?”
Nemiah took delicious charge as he stole another kiss, their lips brushing between soft
words. “No. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself and I’d have felt so terrible.”
“And now?” Virion offered a slow lick along Nemiah’s tongue before he pressed their lips
once more.
“Now, I’m going to make you waste yourself like a springling and melt under me.” Nemiah
struggled to get his undergarments off, legs kicking behind him as he straddled Virion, pawing at
his mate until his silvery underwear rolled down his thighs, damp with sweat and twisted to pin
his knees together.
“F-fuck.” Virion’s whole being shuddered at those filthy words. He needed more, wanted
more, and more Nemiah gave. A soft palm stroked the length of his shaft, thumb circling the
weeping tip before dipping downward to play with his soft sac, gently massaging the bit of loose
skin there, palming and massaging balls an omega would never have. Despite that, the sensation
was incomparable.
Pure lighting rushed through his touch, prickles of static that radiated to the base of his
spine. “All this noise over nothing? I’m only beginning.”
Virion tensed his core, holding back to make the tender sensation last. In truth, it’d been far
too long. He couldn’t hold back, not for long at least. Thalmic power rushed through Nemiah’s
fingertips and Virion bellowed out a wounded cry of pleasure, everything in his core tightening
in controlled spasms, jerking to the tune of one hot streak up his belly after another. “N-
Nemiah!”
The way he closed his eyes, face softening as if he heard sweet music, made Virion’s heart
swell. His cry of pleasure ended with a whimper that silenced under Nemiah’s deceptively soft
lips. “There we go.”
 Nemiah’s soothing tone cooed along Virion’s cheek, to his ear, where sharp teeth nipped and
nibbled him into limp complacency. “Feel good?” Nemiah swiped a streak of Virion’s cum from
his chest and licked at his finger, groaning with appreciation.
“Y-yes.” Virion gasped tenderly as Nemiah rolled him onto his front and gently propped his
hips.
Far gentler than the first time he’d been touched by Nemiah, a finger slotted against his
tender hole, circling the ample wetness that met the cool air. In his vulnerable position, he
trembled and cut off a choked whimper of pleasure as that single finger slid inside him, toying
with his wet insides. It was there that the budding slick pooled and dribbled down his thighs. It
had to be plentiful for an amorous alpha to take him hard.
The stretch and burn of a second finger followed, sending pulses of hollow pleasure through
his half-soft cock. It twitched and dribbled with empty threat, but the recovery period of an
omega could be indecently short.
Nemiah’s dark chuckle brought a shudder of pleasure through his chest. “Like a springling,
as I said.” A third finger pushed in, stretching Virion in a delicious way that rekindled his
erection, making it jerk and twitch to the tune of Nemiah’s gentle motions, opening for him so
easily. No beta had taken time to open him so well before. But then again, betas were not known
for being enthusiastic lovers to begin with.
Fingers withdrawing, Nemiah leaned in, hot breath dancing over the cool expanse of his ass
before lips brushed. “Tell me if I do something you do not like. Otherwise… Do me my utmost
pleasure and let me hear your cries.”
Virion hesitated for a moment before Nemiah descended, tongue trailing his ass to delve
between his leaking cheeks, lapping along the trail of dripping slick. “What are—” Virion’s
voice choked out, replaced by a mewling noise of pleasure that cracked in his throat.
Nemiah dragged his tongue along Virion’s crease, trailing his hole for a bare second before
lapping his sensitive opening. Hands grasped on either cheek, Nemiah buried his face, his nose
panting hot breath, tongue flicking in and out, sending a spark of pleasure deep into his core,
opening up his innermost depths in a way that only rarely happened, his body submitting itself to
an alpha.
With a gentle kiss to his sensitive opening, Nemiah pulled back, lips brushing. “Making sure
you know how much I care for you.”
 “Oh, goddess…” Virion choked as he dipped his back and let instincts take over. He was
about to be bred in the way an omega needed. So, when Nemiah pulled away, much to Virion’s
mournful whimper, he chuckled and leaned in, guiding his cock to push against his opening.
“Mind your words, she listens.” Nemiah groaned thickly and rolled his hips in gentle
motions, pushing the head back and forth against Virion’s hole, always coming almost to the
point of penetration. Each delicious stretch made Virion sigh with pleasure and moan with
protest.
With careful ease, Nemiah pushed his hips firmly in. Virion’s well-softened hole plied open
and took his husband in so greedily. Such a noise Virion had never heard croak free of Nemiah’s
voice, halted with a soft hiss. “By her name, I want to fuck you so hard. I’ve wanted to since the
moment the king said you could be mine. I sensed the power, how our souls meshed. I want to be
the one to tear you apart and build you back up better and stronger.”
“I want that, too.” Unsure as to what he was agreeing to, Virion merely braced his hips,
dipped his back, and sucked in a harsh breath when Nemiah’s hips snapped forward so hard he
nudged something vital. The sudden impact made Virion cry out in a mixture of startled pain and
pleasure. His world went white, vision muting into a bare slit of soft covers clenched in pale
fists.
Nemiah rolled his hips slowly at first, building a punishing pace that hammered him up the
bed until the headboard rattled and canopy swayed. Every firm stroke of his hips and pistoning
motion of his cock drove him higher, made his pleasure increase. Virion choked on a breath,
finding his insides clenching and spasming around his alpha’s cock so much more intensely than
any other partner he’d ever been with.
“Let go for me. I won’t last too much longer, my Sugarmoth.” Nemiah’s words hissed
between his teeth, breath heaving as he thrust into Virion with careless abandon. He snarled until
his entire body jerked and froze, a harsh shiver starting in his core so fiercely that Virion could
feel it vibrating.
“Can’t… I need.” Virion’s breathy groans croaked free of his throat, strained with his own
lust.
As if he could read Virion’s mind, Nemiah’s hand wrapped around, milking over his cock
with gentle, firm strokes. Each tug gave him permission and cause, the mind-numbing pleasure
overtaking him from the base of his spine into the root of his cock, sparking in his toes and belly.
 Every breath drove Virion higher, exhalations coming with shouts, pitch rising into a squeal
that satisfied him for the second time that night. The goddess had surely blessed their union, for
no beta had given him such pleasure. No touch of his hands, fingers, nor oddly procured
vegetables of interesting shapes that he’d never admit to came close. “Nemi—” Virion squeaked
but choked on his words as the world whited out and blessed pressure built just beyond his ring.
Nemiah’s pistoning hips locked in, the bulge of his knot filling. The minute leeway it had
soon vanished as Virion screamed, and screamed again. The orgasm that rode him as hard as
Nemiah did.
The wounded bray of ultimate pleasure that filled the room over his own screams made
Virion dip his back, lock into place almost obediently and whimper. Each twitching pulse of seed
that funneled into his body left Virion a little weaker, until he relaxed into a near-boneless
sprawl.
That should have been the point he pulled out, procured Virion a towel and left wordlessly. It
was what he was accustomed to, but Nemiah rode through his orgasm and slowed into gentle
rocking motions before draping himself over Virion’s back, panting over his neck. Hot hands
took Virion’s and scooped them closer, lacing their fingers. All the while, tender lips plucked
apologetic kisses. “Are you hurt, my sweet?”
Virion couldn’t form words but gave a groan somewhere between a no and a whimper.
“Good to hear.” Nemiah rolled his hips and Virion clenched tight around his knot, relishing
the foreign sensation. He’d waited entirely too long for it and exhaled, the entirety of his breath a
soothing whimper that left him deflated much like a child’s ball at the end of a season. Perhaps
Nemiah would prod him and find naught but mush.
But that was okay. His husband was a generous lover, and his last worry slipped away. “A
few minutes, please… Then we can go again.”
“Again?” Nemiah’s dark chuckle tugged at the knot within him, giving them both pause to
hiss softly. Nemiah gently massaged along Virion’s back and sides, long fingers digging deep
into muscles. With careful ease, he pulled Virion flush against him and maneuvered them onto
their sides. “Once we’re no longer united, we’ll see.”
Virion held back, shedding a burning tear for the utter joy of what he felt because they’d
chosen one another, been chosen for one another, and been blessed by their goddess. The sun no
longer held dominion over Virion. He answered only to the moon and his mate.
 Chapter Fourteen
Nemiah

It was no surprise when a while later, his knot receded and Virion whimpered, pushing his
ass back to grind, begging for more. He’d had his first taste of alpha, and his body craved it.
Nemiah wasn’t much better. Like all alphas, he’d cut his gaze off toward omegas and the
odd female, but such was his bloodline that a bastard, like himself, wouldn’t be tolerated.
Despite his mother claiming him as her own, Nemiah blanched at the thought of leaving an
omega disgraced.
Nemiah gave his mate another knot that night, turning him to face one another and lock
limber legs over his hips and grind lazily into one another with tender kisses and satisfied,
indistinct noises. He’d never had sex with a partner where they weren’t feverishly rutting to be
done with it. This slow, lazy grind of bodies with kisses that didn’t end was an experience he’d
never known he needed.
With catlike grace, Virion stretched his lithe body and wriggled into the curve of Nemiah’s
frame. The squeak that came from his throat made Nemiah’s heart melt. “Goddess, you’re
beautiful. I never thought of sun fae as an option before. You are the brightest thing in a room,
and I can see you flush so prettily.” Nemiah traced a finger over Virion’s side and nuzzled their
horns together with a satisfying clack.
“Same. I find myself rather fond of your skin, like the night sky. I always appreciated the
moon. She was kinder to me than the sun.” Virion watched Nemiah’s wandering hand and peered
into his eyes, the pinkness in them gleaming with a mild form of lascivious interest again.
“Among other…things.”
He bit his lip, staring at Nemiah with that bottomless want.
As much as Nemiah wanted to go ahead, it would be greedy to wear the poor thing out or to
let things continue unbridled, like they were in heat. “Calm yourself, my Sugarmoth. I could go
for hours yet, but I think we should bathe and pace ourselves.”
Virion’s little pink lower lip, bitten and swollen from kisses, poked out. Nemiah had to
strengthen his resolve not to take him right then and there, to give in to that little pleading stare.
“You’ll be the death of me. I know it.”
 Virion snuggled in a little flusher to Nemiah’s body and grinned. “That would be
unfortunate. I have far better plans for you than death.”
“Call me terrified.” Nemiah scooped Virion up, his form lithe and warm in his arms. He fit
so well, sliding to the floor with jellied legs and a whimper of surprise. “Let us throw robes on.”
Virion turned in place, his pale form marked from Nemiah’s hard touches, bites, and
suckling kisses. The trails in his flesh where his wings would emerge glistened just the slightest
with a hint of wing scale. His cock twitched with interest.
“Dress now or I’ll have you again.” Nemiah’s voice came out far rougher than he’d
intended, but the threat seemed to titillate Virion more than put the fear of the goddess in him. He
swatted Virion’s pale rump, and he squeaked, shrugging into his robe. “The better I have you
recuperated, the more we can keep going.” And at that, Virion tied his robe into place and let
Nemiah lead the way to the baths.
They rinsed off together, exploratory touches finding home. Their lips brushed, heated
bodies rubbed against one another, and when they finally pinned their hair up and slid into the
mineral-laden water, the sigh that escaped them both came out as one.
Virion luxuriated in the water, as it was still a new luxury to him. His pale flesh almost
glowed in the low lamplight, thalmic power kissing his skin. Tasting it on him had made
Nemiah’s core shake and cock surge, though it was anyone’s guess what it’d simmer into with
time. He hoped it’d intensify as Virion was allowed to come out of his shell.
The premise of personal space had gone out the window the moment Nemiah had stuck his
cock in him. With a gentle hoist, Virion straddled Nemiah’s lap and pressed their noses together,
his dainty ridge a cool presence against his own. With a gentle brush of lips, Nemiah placated
Virion with soft kisses. The pale vision of him stood out so brightly, like holding moonlight in
his arms, cradling it like the night sky. Touching every inch of his body felt right, fingertips
rolling into soft muscle and tender flesh. “I’ve been missing all this… I could have had it the
whole time.”
“You could have. But sometimes things are worth waiting for. But don’t do it again. I’m not
going another night without my husband’s cock.” Virion grabbed onto Nemiah’s horns, forcing
him into another lingering kiss. “I’ll have you again this night. Again the next.”
Nemiah stifled a hiss of pleasure, a feral want burning in his chest. “You play with fire, my
husband.”
 “I play with thalms and make miracles.” Virion hoisted himself, using Nemiah’s horns as
leverage. Only a moment of confusion and hiss of rebuttal halted the moment Virion’s hips lifted
and brought themselves together. In the hot water of the pool, his slick had washed away.
Without as much ease, Virion brought his weight down and cried out a wounded noise before
forcing himself down.
“Easy!”
“More.” Virion rolled his hips and kept his leverage on Nemiah’s horns, hips bobbing
insistently. “Goddess, I love having an alpha’s horns. I feel… I—”
Nemiah thrust his hips up to meet Virion’s insistent bobbing, earning a snarl of pleasure.
“Complete?”
“Better. I’m—” Virion ground his hips down, his cheeks pink and gleaming with the steam
of the room. The pink flush in his cheeks grew, eyes misting as his pupils widened. “I need…”
Nemiah was happy to give. He rocked his hips, panting through gritted teeth, each breath
hissing wetly as desire and urgency burned its way through him like he held no control over his
will. Virion rolled his hips and splashed water about in a frenzy, crying out in sharp bleats of
pleasure until the water between them clouded with his lust, cock firing cum into the lazily
drifting waters. Still, he didn’t slow. “Tell me what you need.”
“Kn-knot!” Virion worked himself desperately, every muscle in his body shaking. “Knot me,
my king. Please. Put your seed in me. I need it.”
“As you wish.” Nemiah rolled with Virion and pulled free, bending him over the shore of the
pool and pinning him to the stairs. His hips thrashed until Nemiah’s hand found his still-hard
cock pulsing in his grip. Had he known how wound up his mate had been, he’d have made the
choice to have pleasured Virion sooner.
Guiding his cock in, Nemiah treasured his omega’s channel, relishing his wanton cries, his
arching back, the way a pleasant flush rose over his skin, and horns gleamed in the low light.
Every other breath broke free with a growling cry of pleasure, feral with want and need. His
channel pulsed and milked over Nemiah’s cock until his knot tingled and he slammed in,
drawing forth a louder feral cry as his knot engaged.
“Virion. Precious rabbit. Take me.” Nemiah pumped his hips, his knot filling and pulsing.
Each wave of lust brought with it hot seed that spilled into his heated depths. Nemiah cried out,
his body jerking as thalms shot through him, power surging between them until his pleasure
peaked and he pitched forward, head resting between Virion’s trembling shoulders with a soft
kiss. Heaving breaths echoed over the sputtering waters of the spring, taking with it their spend
as fresh water flowed in.
Virion, happily sated, groaned so low and soft the noise was mistakable for a purr. His hum
of satisfaction drew Nemiah up, his chest puffing with pride. “You are insatiable, my husband.”
“Goddess alive, I do not know why. I wanted that first rut with you badly, but I needed this.
That delegate of my father’s there made me want to crawl out of my own skin.” Virion groaned
as his back arched.
“The one I snapped at? Delegate? That wasn’t one of the dusk dwellers?” Nemiah’s brow
furrowed.
“No. He was an alpha that my father presented to me some time ago. I recall. He has a wife,
but she’s barren and he courted me but I—I didn’t care for him then, nor now.” Virion peered
over his shoulder, shuddering at the motion. Nemiah’s knot pulsed in sympathy from the motion,
refusing to release. Normally, it didn’t last so long.
“Perhaps he’d moved to the area recently.” Nemiah released a long breath, body shuddering.
“I’ll ask Mother. She handles the guest list for these events.”
“I never knew knots would feel so fantastic.” Virion wriggled his backside and made
Nemiah groan with pleasure.
In revenge, Nemiah stroked Virion’s cock, thumb roving over the sensitive tip to draw forth
pitiable little whimpers. “And I never knew giving you one would be so amazing.”
Tracing his hand along Virion’s chest, he circled around to grip onto his slender hips.
“I don’t think I have anything left in me to give.” Virion hummed and his channel pulsed,
milking over Nemiah’s shaft.
“If this is you pent up, I cannot imagine how awfully you’ll behave when it’s your begging
night.” Nemiah circled his thumb.
“This is more intense than a begging night. I apologize.” Virion’s insides trembled, still
keeping his knot full.
“Ah, we’ll see what more yet you have to offer me when the time comes.” Nemiah rolled his
hips and sighed with pleasure when his knot disengaged, allowing them to part and soak in the
waters once more. “Would you like a late-night repast and to sleep in my chambers?”
 “Of course, though I cannot vouch for how good of a bed partner I will be. I’ve never slept
with another.” Virion stretched and stood.
“I’ve had the nymphs since I was very little. They say I am a sound and still sleeper. I often
recalled them waking me at times to make sure I still breathed.” Nemiah hated being woken up
like that but felt absolutely warm with delight at sharing his bed with Virion.
“When I was little, I slept curled tight to my stuffed bear, and when they took it away, I used
my pillow. I like to cling to things at times.” Virion’s cheeks were still pink from lust but
deepened at the admission. “I never thought I’d look forward to this.”
“Same for me.” Virion tucked at his hair a bit and followed Nemiah’s lead to step out of the
hot springs. His pale form amid the steam looked glorious, a ghostly image that Nemiah pulled
into his dark arms. Day and night coming together, sharing a soft kiss.
They robed themselves and took the long stroll to the kitchens before diverting to his
bedroom with their pilfered treats. Leftover repast from the party stolen away in a tin bowl tasted
better than they had warm.
Snuggled up in his room, spilling crumbs on the duvet as they shared bites of savory tarts
was one of Nemiah’s new favorite things, he decided. Though…if the heated scent of arousal
still wafting from his mate was any indication, Nemiah would perform again soon.
A soft knock on the door squashed the plan as Nemiah gestured for Virion to throw his robe
on and did the same, welcoming in the guest.
A timid guard cleared his throat from the hall. “Sir. There is a security matter that needs your
attention. Apologies to our Silver Prince and yourself.”
“Needs must.” Nemiah sighed and cinched his robe before struggling into a pair of breeches.
Virion took heed and struggled into a pair, too, closing in on Nemiah’s back. “None are to come
in or out of my bedchambers. My mate wants for my company and he has enough thalms to
leave anyone who thinks otherwise in flames.”
Virion’s little smirk brought a stirring of pleasure to Nemiah’s chest. “Keep yourself warm
for me.”
Marching out, the guard glanced back toward Virion before nodding at other guards in place,
a few more than necessary. Nemiah gave his coldest, placid expression to the soldier and hid his
satisfaction at the male’s recoil. “Sir. We caught… Well, I should say, the nymphs caught a man
sneaking about the Silver Prince’s wing and we found something on his person when we
searched.”
“Elaborate.” Nemiah crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.
“He had preparatory powders for ah… Arousal.” The guard cleared his throat. “Beyond that,
we’re not sure what the blend is, but it’s potent, and certain blends can send omegas into estrus.”
Nemiah’s blood went cold. “Excuse me?”
“Sir, sneaking about your mate’s quarters with that kind of thing isn’t an innocent position to
be in.”
“I understand that part, but…” Nemiah glanced over his shoulder, thinking over the night
when the male handed Virion the glass of wine and tried a few more times to pull him away. The
frenzy Virion was in… “Goddess…”
“Let me see him.” Nemiah’s demand was met before he realized he was asking, being led
right toward the male in their dungeons. His mother sat before the cell door, arms crossed and
face twisted in disgust.
“I just finished questioning him.” Kiara brushed a hand off on the front of her night robes.
“And he’s so very lucky that our Silver Prince has eyes only for my son.”
Nemiah’s gaze traversed to the male he’d suspected, laying prone on the floor, breaths
heaving. “He intended to slip away with my mate.”
“King Alluin is furious,” she said, examining her nails. “Want to guess why?”
“That Virion was virginal?” They exchanged a fleeting glance.
“So when our little Virion was but a boy and they tested for potential, he was told three-
score and two. So, he’s been bartering his son off to perspective suitors as a six because math
isn’t His Majesty’s strong suit. He regrets giving you Virion and not his daughter, and our little
rat here decided he’d attempt to take Virion.” Kiara scoffed and brushed her nails on her jacket.
Nemiah took a shuddering breath. “King Alluin is welcome to come—”
“King Alluin will need Virion to return once the rails are done because it seems that your
dearest…what did you call him? Sugarmoth? holds the favor of their goddess and is the only one
strong enough to bless the springs for Vitalis.”
Nemiah pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “Did you find out the extent of
the poison he carried?”
 “Aphrodisiac and estrus stimulant.” She nodded at a glass vial of powder on a nearby ledge
waiting for his inspection. Not much was left in the vial. “Judging from the chaos the guards
heard from your wing and the baths, I’d say you both got a dose. Get back to your mate while I
send this pig home with a gift.” The wicked glow in her eyes sparked. His mother was not one to
be trifled with at the best of times. In that way, she’d been an excellent match for his father, but
her temper was more discerning.
Nemiah stared at the vial for a long, painful moment. “Your gift for him?”
“Castration and nullification. He’ll be lucky to light a candle with his thalmic energy after
I’m done with him.” She sighed and tied her hair up tightly. “Have the guards send the healer
here. The moment your lips touched Virion, he became mine, too. And I shall show him what we
do to those who hurt my family.”
Nemiah swallowed hard and nodded before slipping out, his ears and mind ringing with
what she’d said. Virion was in estrus. He muttered to the guard to fetch their healer and blindly
made his way back to Virion and into his arms.
“Is all well?” Virion said the moment Nemiah crashed into him. He couldn’t bear to tell him
what had been done just yet.
“The guest that made advances toward you was caught sneaking into your quarters,”
Nemiah managed to choke out.
Virion shuddered, his upper lip curling. “I’m sure if the guards hadn’t caught him, the
nymphs would have done worse.”
“They did.” Nemiah’s voice trembled as he brushed Virion’s robes off his shoulders, kissing
his cheek and neck, brushing his fingers down his sides. “My mother is seeing to the rest.”
“Does she need help? I think I feel preemptively violated and would like to personally see to
him suffering a little.” Virion hissed under the gentle pressure of a soft nip.
“You have no idea what my mother is capable of.” Nemiah shuddered as he wrestled Virion
back into bed. “But we should probably talk before we engage further.”
Virion wrapped his legs around Nemiah’s waist, nosing his way into another kiss. “Talk
later.”
“Talk first.” Nemiah pulled his face away and grumbled when his traitorous cock took
Virion’s side. “Estrus… Drug.” Nemiah shuddered as Virion ground his cock against Nemiah’s
and halted.
 “Wasn’t that the whole point of our union? To conceive you an heir?” Virion didn’t appear
to be bothered as much as he should. “Talk later. Don’t care. Knot. Please.”
And Nemiah couldn’t argue. The will of an omega won out.
 Chapter Fifteen
Virion

He’d had his fertile period during isolation, a warm night of self-pleasure. It was lighter than
his usual cycles, coming off of nightflower. Cycles on nightflower were lighter anyway, so it’d
been many years since he’d had a full fertile period. That night, he’d had his first full one in a
long time, and it appeared that it would be the last for a while.
Virion rolled over onto his side and pulled a blanket over his head, surrounding himself in
Nemiah’s scent.
“Prince Virion.” The healer’s voice wasn’t any more soothing than anyone else that
morning. Rolling nausea greeted him, and for an omega late on his cycles, there was only one
conclusion.
“I can perform my examination better if you aren’t hiding beneath a quilt.” Virion could
hear the smugness in Nilla’s voice. “Like Nemiah when he was a little one, refusing medicine. I
swear you two must get along well.”
“I can tell you how much we get along.” He stuck a hand out and gestured at a covered
chamber pot that Nemiah had procured for him so he didn’t have to scamper to the garderobe.
“That much.”
“May I ask what other symptoms ail you, my prince?” The healer, Nilla, didn’t move from
where she stood and her tone didn’t improve, either. Tinkling amusement played out in every
syllable.
“I’m tired.”
She hummed in acknowledgement and scribbled something down in her journal. “As is
normal.”
“I’m in a foul mood for no reason!” Virion’s churlish behavior seemed unreasonable to him,
but at the same time, his entire being emanated a foulness.
With a stifled huff of laughter, Nilla wrote something else down. “I wouldn’t say you’re
without cause.”
 “And my back hurts and I want cake! But I don’t want cake because if I were a commoner,
it’d be so sad to be unable to have cake if you wanted it this bad.” Tears pricked Virion’s eyes,
and he snarled them away before rubbing at his face with the corner of the quilt.
“Uh-huh.” The endless scribbling continued. “So, we’re both on the same page, I think. I’ll
have to do a physical examination, but in all likelihood you’re carrying. What does your magic
tell you?”
“My thalm count is thirty-two. If I even try to do magic, things spark right now. Thanks.”
Virion sighed heavily and pulled the blankets away, sitting up. It’d only been a lunar cycle since
his forced heat, a full cycle and a half off of nightflower. He had every chance of conceiving—
and at the moment, that wasn’t a problem.
She bowed her head, dark hair slicked back into a neat bob behind her head, attention
focused in her little notebook as she scribbled. She reached a hand out with a perfunctory touch,
thalmic energy humming over her fingertips as she prodded over his belly. “I see. I’d have to
agree you’re carrying. This is good news, yes?”
“Yes.” Virion groaned and winced as Nilla lifted his tunic and rested a cold hand beneath his
navel. He hissed, stomach jolting.
“Well, we all suspected, but it’s strong enough to tell so far.” She turned away, writing in her
notebook. “Bedrest for a few days until you’re feeling better. Bland foods—though our bland
may still be—”
“Please. I like Drashil food better.” Virion let his head fall back with a sigh.
“Okay. So our version of bland and if it’s too much, please tell someone. You weren’t at a
super-healthy weight when you arrived, thanks to that barbaric cleansing.” She scoffed and
closed the notebook.
“By bedrest, does that mean I have to stay in bed the whole time?” He pouted.
“It means no carnal acrobatics and take all the naps you care to. No lifting anything heavy
and if you find yourself falling asleep at your desk, let our queen manage.”
Virion grumbled. “I wish to see Nemiah and blame him for this. And if we cannot engage in
acrobatics, can we at least engage in some light calisthenics?”
“I’ll have the guard escort you. Try to keep it tame?” She sauntered out and Virion rose to
dress himself, having sent the nymphs away that morning as they tried to placate him with coos
and back pats. If they’d really wanted to soothe him, they’d have brought cake.
 When Virion finished dressing, the guards ushered him from Nemiah’s wing, past the
bedroom at the opposite end of the hall where once Virion had slept. Each turn and step they took
through the castle brought them closer to the distant scent of burning thalms, blacksteel, frit, and
oil.
Once past the libraries and offices, Kiara peeked her head out, a pursed-lip expression
dashed across her face. “Am I a grandmother?”
Rather than say something hurtful, which Virion had the urge to do, he settled her with a
lingering stare. “I’ve not spoken to my husband yet. Whatever news I have, if any, will be shared
once the only other participant in the event is informed.”
Her eyes lit up, but she didn’t argue further, receding into her office to leave Virion to his
task of storming his mate’s lab, informing him of what they already knew, and bartering for some
sort of affection. Virion didn’t think he could handle an orgasm at that moment, but he damn well
wanted Nemiah’s hands all over him.
When they got to his lab, Nemiah sat at his desk, staring at blank sheets of paper. The pen in
his hand had gone dry, the ink long solidified from its last dip in the well.
“Husband!” Virion announced himself and marched in as the guards shut the doors behind
him.
Nemiah fumbled his pen and glanced up, his eyes wide and expression untrained. If Virion
were any judge of it, he’d have labeled the expression as guilt. “You bear news?”
“I bear more than news, you fool. That Liaberian noble’s trickery has seen to your heir.”
Virion sneered and Nemiah stood with a scoot of metal across stone, mouth open slightly.
“For sure? This is… I cannot say unexpected. Truly?” Nemiah’s façade fully fell away as he
rushed up and embraced Virion.
“Don’t!” Virion pulled away and covered his mouth. The waves of nausea came and went,
and they assured him he’d be fine closer to the afternoons, but the way his taste buds were going,
he wasn’t sure.
Nemiah pulled away and stood, hands lifted as though he were unsure of what move to
make. “I apologize. This is good news for us both.”
“Yeah. You have your heir for my father’s money, and I have cemented my stay.” Virion
leaned against a wall, and Nemiah’s face twisted into a snarl of unrestrained anger. His helpless
posture stiffened, and he strode forward, caging Virion in with his arms for a few shaking
breaths. Almost tenderly, he reached up and cupped Virion’s cheek, tilting his face up so their
noses touched. His bullish horns pushed free in a display of his alpha claim, drawing a whimper
of submission from Vir.
“You. Are. Mine. I have claimed you as the moon has blessed. I look upon you with great
favor, your mind, body, and spirit. I shall have no other. As our souls have melded, we are
equals, understand?” Nemiah’s cold tones shook with a barely restrained rage.
Virion could only manage a shaky nod.
“That money you are looking at is for the thalmway. You and our young are insurance.”
Nemiah’s hand on Virion’s chin released and slid down to palm the flat of his belly. There, his
magic swarmed beneath Nemiah’s fingertips. He let his magic skim the surface of Virion’s and
closed his eyes, as if feeling that flicker of magic that burned like an ember in him. “And in a
few months’ time, you’ll board the thalmway at my side, show your father what a prince you’ve
become while my engineers install the Telecon you made possible.”
With a gentle swallow, Virion nodded. “Yes.”
“I will sing your praises and you will earn your father’s admiration. Do you understand?”
Virion nodded once more.
“And…” Nemiah’s nose brushed over Virion’s face, lips brushing with warm breath trailing
over his skin. Firm lips stroked Virion’s ear, a tongue trailing the helix before halting. A wave of
nausea threatened to rise up and with a swift, but firm, nip, Virion’s entire body jolted with a
breathy whimper, pleasure shooting through him as all nausea faded away. “There. Feeling
better?”
Sinking against the wall, Virion’s lips fell open. He stifled a soft whimper that borderlined
on sexual. And despite the strong pleasure he felt, his cock remained still and listless. “Much.
And I’ll never earn my father’s admiration.”
Virion closed his eyes, and strong hands moved to cradle and lift him. Swaying footsteps
brought him to a seat atop a dusty workbench. His clothes would be stained, but nothing magic
couldn’t fix.
“You can and will.” Nemiah nosed his way to Virion’s other ear, nipping that same spot
opposite he’d nipped earlier. The palpable release flowed through, making Virion nearly melt.
“The Vitalis springs have gone dry.”
Virion gasped and jerked away from Nemiah’s touch, eyes wide. “No!”
 “It seems they’re relying on a store of it at the moment, but something about you being
necessary to bless the springs. Alluin didn’t realize you were the one that held the goddess’s
favor. And he gave you away to the moon so casually.” Nemiah brought Virion’s face in for a
soft brush of lips. “So your father will get on his knees and beg.”
Virion’s cheeks went hot with a strange flurry of motions. “I can’t travel like I am.”
“Not via carriage. Give it two months and the rail will be laid. I’ve already got engineers on
their way on the first leg of rail with a Telecon.” Nemiah chuckled darkly. “A gift from his
beloved omega son.”
“No!” Virion’s spirits lightened as he chuckled. “But why would the goddess favor an
omega? Why would he need me to bless the springs?”
“I’ve never spoken to the sun before. You’d have to ask her.”
“The sun doesn’t speak to omegas.” Virion twisted his lips in confusion.
The hurt on Nemiah’s face morphed into pity. “This eve, when our goddess rises, you will
speak to her. I’m uncertain as to how one speaks to the sun, but the moon will give you messages
from her sister if needed.”
“Will the sun want to hear me? Why do I need to return to bless the springs when the sun
doesn’t speak to omegas?” Tears stung Virion’s eyes. Years of going to dawn worshipping once a
season and watching the sun rise to align with the monoliths as the clerics called her missives
had long made him wary of his place in the world. Omegas sat in the back. Omegas never
prayed, nor were they taught how.
“She will speak to you more dearly than any cleric. I feel that it is not the goddess that
doesn’t wish to speak to you, but the king that doesn’t wish you to speak to her.” Nemiah cradled
the sides of his face and nuzzled over his cheek. “But if she doesn’t, know that you are under the
moon’s protection and she loves you.”
Virion could feel a certain buzz in the magic between them.
She loves you. And for a moment, Virion could feel that Nemiah did, too.
 Chapter Sixteen
Nemiah

A child… Nemiah had known it was the intended purpose of his union with Virion to
produce an heir, to leave a bloodline for mechathalmy to continue toward. He didn’t expect it so
soon, and part of him rejoiced, not at the immediacy of it but the fact that Virion, bearing his
child, could not be taken from him. The Silver Prince, as the advisors had decided to deem him,
became bearer of next in line to their throne.
Their throne. They’d been together such a short time that the declaration seemed strange, but
he felt the urgency in his heart. Virion was his forever. For the next few months, though, he’d
have to make Virion understand that he was as strong, intelligent, and worthy as he was.
Walking up the tower that night, Virion yawned as if he longed for their bed once more,
another pleasant sign of their potential child. With a hand rested gently on Virion’s back, Nemiah
guided him to the window where the moon shone her fullest.
“Kneel.” Nemiah drew Virion to kneel next to him and gestured for him to bear his wings
and horns.
Virion did so with a sigh of exhaustion, stifling a polite yawn. It pleased Nemiah far more
than it should have, as he lit the candle and took Virion’s hands.
“Speak with me.” Nemiah leaned into Virion’s side for a slight nip to his ear, letting his teeth
hit that pressure point that would ease his nausea.
“Don’t do that kind of stuff here.” Virion pushed at Nemiah, his cheeks going that brilliant
pink.
“Then speak with me—Mother Goddess, moon above.” Nemiah smiled when Virion’s
hesitant timbre joined him. “We seek your answer.”
Nemiah smiled as the flame went blue and cast his eyes skyward. Virion turned his head up,
and from the corner of his eye, Nemiah beamed when he gasped in awe.
Such sweet lovers. Greetings, my new child.
Nemiah chanced a glance over and tears streaked his eyes.
“She—you sound so beautiful. Go—Mother Goddess.”
 Few have told me that, child. I’m glad my sister sent you to us. You two are finding your love
well, I see.
“Thank you, Mother Goddess. I treasure him dearly. He is the greatest gift you’ve ever given
me,” Nemiah said, sitting up a little straighter when Virion gasped at his side.
“Th-thank you.” Virion tilted his head to stare down, but Nemiah nudged him to stare up
once more at the moon. “I’m happy.”
I’m glad. You’ll be happier when you hear the things my sister whispered to me. She says
she picked you special to bless the springs with Vitalis, as I blessed Drashil to harness thalms in
metal. It is a shame your father neglected you, but my sister kept your father from forcing you
away. She gave you to me, and together, you two will create something beautiful.
“I think we started that path.” Virion’s weak voice wavered.
Our two gifts will combine. Life and metal. You have given his machines purpose. Your ideas
will bring a new age. And your children, the one you bear and more to come, will all take the
places in your two kingdoms as great thinkers and creators alike.
“I doubt my children will go to Liaberos and be welcome.” Virion’s voice shrank.
Seidrik and Saria are not blessed to produce true heirs. Seidrik has never once spoken to my
sister in prayer. And Saria has never once praised the sun. She thinks she deserves her place, and
neither of them has any humility. And Alluin prays only for power, money, and perfection. The
blood for the springs ends and begins with you. Your mother prayed to my sister so diligently,
spoke to her as a friend, and promised you in service to her. You were a treasure from the
beginning, Virion. Blessed of thalm.
Virion choked on a breath, his next noise a soft whimper that he couldn’t turn into words.
“The springs are… I loved those springs as a child.”
And of all the things I told you, your only concern is for those springs. Treasure him,
Nemiah, my child. He is sweet. When he returns to bless the springs, the clerics will have the
missives. You will be respected or Liaberos will fall.
Virion swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you, Mother Goddess. I do not feel worthy of
your praise.”
Nemiah reached over to grab Virion’s hand. “I am so very fond of him so far. I treasure him
and will continue to do so. I made the deal to save my people and bring peace and prosperity to
my country, but I am quickly falling deeply in love.”
 Virion gasped softly. He trembled at Nemiah’s side before his tiny words barely breathed
over his lips. “As am I.”
I am pleased to see you two have matched well. You two do me proud, and my sister sends
her love, Virion. When you go to Liaberos, pray to her. She will speak with you before the clergy,
but remember, young one, you are mine first. She may have blessed you, but your own people
turned you away. So my sister’s blessings come at my behest. Remember that, Silver Prince. And
welcome our young one with pride.
And at that, the candle went out. No words were left unsaid and Virion broke down into soft
sobs. His rounded shoulders pitched forward, hair spilling down. He reached toward his stomach
as if he wanted to hold it but drew his hand back. Nemiah completed the gesture, though,
bringing his hand in to cup Virion’s, resting both their palms there. “Promise me, by the time our
young one is born, you will say you love me and mean it.”
Virion’s shuddering breath subsided, and he nodded. “I promise.”
Nemiah, caught up in his emotions, brought Virion’s face to his, before his prayer spot and
in full view of the goddess, and kissed him. Their entwined lips brushed softly at first, locking to
trade peeks of tongue before the heated, breathy noises between them evolved into soft groans of
want.
Nemiah couldn’t say he detected desperate need from Virion, nor the heated scent of slick.
Something about his vulnerable posture and whimpers drew Nemiah to him, drawing them away
from the window to the small rug on the bare stone floor.
Going willingly, Virion bowed to Nemiah’s touch, drawing the strings of his trousers open to
pull free the omega’s stiffening cock. Through his tender whimper, Nemiah deepened their kiss
and grasped his shameless erection for a firm stroke.
The glands that made an omega slick resided where an alpha and beta’s testicles lay, and the
gentle swell of them told Nemiah he could be coaxed quite easily into a state of indecent
slickness in moments. All he had to do was… Nemiah adjusted his grip to cup the mound of his
omega’s sac and squeeze with featherlight pressure.
With every fiber of his being, Nemiah fought the moan that wanted to curl in his throat when
Virion tore his mouth away and hissed through his pleasure, thighs tensing and trembling against
him. With a response like that, Nemiah couldn’t refuse touching him more, repeating the gesture
until the fullness swelled and subsided, bringing with it the scent of arousal and slick. “That’s a
good omega. You know who your body belongs to.”
“You.” Virion’s whisper drew the lightest, almost feral growl from Nemiah’s throat. “Only
you.”
“That’s right. Only me. Your belly is mine to fill. Our children will be beacons of beauty,
strength, and raw power. Your skin is mine to mark.” Nemiah leaned in, teeth brushing down
Virion’s jaw to his neck to bite firmly, making him writhe and stifle a bleating moan.
“Please.” Virion’s tiny whimper made Nemiah snarl with pleasure. He wanted nothing more
than to give Virion whatever it was he wanted. He drew Virion’s trousers away and brushed his
nails gently along his pale flesh, drawing goose bumps and lightly colored downy hairs into
standing on end.
Nemiah groaned as his hand grazed Virion’s thigh, circling his soft ass to draw fingers along
his slickening crease, relishing the pucker as it twitched and pulsed a fresh wave of slick, inviting
a single finger in with a gentle press. “Please, here?”
Virion nodded enthusiastically, spreading his legs wider in invitation. “I don’t need
preparing. I want to feel you own me.” At that moment, something in Nemiah’s mind snapped.
The feral energy of his alpha drew through his mind. He wanted to fuck his mate raw, to make
him bear child all over again, to bend him over every surface in the castle. None of that would do
though.
Fingers flicking, Nemiah had his breeches open and sliding down as his cock drew free into
the coolness of the tower. The slickness coating his fingers glided down his cock before he
braced himself over Virion and guided his cock home.
If Virion hurt, he said nothing about it, eyes rolling back as a strangled noise wheedled free
of his throat and silenced under a punishing kiss. The tight ring of his entrance stretched pliant
around Nemiah’s cock, swallowing him inch by inch as he sank and withdrew a dozen times or
so to soothe his intrusion.
“Please.” Virion’s throat bobbed as he swallowed a wash of their saliva. Nemiah gave his
tongue an extra swipe, finding his husband’s mouth tainted with a faintly metallic aftertaste.
While common in pregnant omegas, it was new to Nemiah and drew his mind out of the feral
desire to ram into Virion with careless abandon.
 He wouldn’t have Virion suffer, but they both couldn’t contain their emotions. Nemiah had
little in the way of romanticism to show Virion he cared, but spitting into his hand, he brought it
down to grasp the omega’s cock and lavished it with gentle pumping strokes that he timed
perfectly with the cautious bob of his hips. Sinking into one another so deliciously, Virion
struggled to breathe, choking on whimpering breaths between kisses.
Nemiah eased his tongue to rest their foreheads together and drew free his wings and horns.
A quick click of ivory to keratin reminded Nemiah of their differences, their similarities, and the
need for omega to melt for an alpha. “Precious Sugarmoth. Please.”
At the sound, Virion whimpered and snapped his spread legs up and over Nemiah’s hips,
rocking into him. From the firmness beneath Nemiah’s cock, Virion had angled him to rub over
his gland with each stroke. “Come for me, my king.”
Nemiah hated hearing Virion call him king, but the way he said it at the height of pleasure
made him tremble with want and need. The base of Nemiah’s cock tingled, his knot engaging as
his spine shot lightning through his body. As if spurring Nemiah forward, Virion jerked his hips
and squeezed Nemiah’s cock. He bucked wantonly into Nemiah’s fist and tightened his thighs.
Each stroke brought Nemiah closer until his knot filled and locked into Virion.
A wounded cry broke free of Virion’s throat as his entire body bowed, inner walls pulsing
and milking to the tune of wet stripes of cum that shot over Nemiah’s fist and up his chest.
Nemiah’s orgasm slammed into him like the hammer of a blacksmith’s forge, hot seed pulsing in
rushes, quenching his fire. In a flash, almost too soon, it was over. Virion’s body went limp and
complacent beneath him. His chest rose and fell, body trembling lightly even as his insides
clenched and released spasmodically, keeping Virion locked in for those tender minutes. And if
the flame of the candle beside them lit itself with a blue flicker and went out in an almost amused
tremble of laughter, Virion said nothing of it.
After long, silent moments, Nemiah’s knot relented and Virion exhaled as if he’d been
holding his breath the entire time, gasping for air as he tied together his clothing and dress.
“We should get the girls to care for your hair. The way we engage is shameless and does no
wonders for their styling efforts.” Nemiah offered his most hopeful smile as he pulled up his
pants and fastened them.
“That’s a rather tactful way to say that I look like a well-fucked mess.” Virion sighed and
gathered his legs beneath him with a tender hiss.
 Nemiah perked to his noise and aided him in standing. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I—” Virion’s cheeks pinkened. “A symptom of quickening, I’m afraid. Some motions
make muscles prick and twist in my belly.” Virion’s pursed-lip smile made Nemiah smile, his
cheeks pinching from the unfamiliar twist.
“You’re so very handsome when you smile, you know? You should do it more.” Virion’s
pink eyes glimmered as he reached up to cup Nemiah’s cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of
his mouth with little circular gestures, encouraging him to continue grinning.
“I am afraid that my usual expression is unpleasant and dour at the best of times.” Nemiah
scoffed and averted his gaze, but found Virion drawing him back into a tender kiss.
“Then smile for me. If nothing else, watching the way you light up when you see me makes
me shiver. I owe you a million kisses and will die owing you ten million more.”
“Then I shall collect freely.” Nemiah stole another kiss for good measure and righted his
cock. The traitorous flesh perked with middling interest once more. “Now let’s wash up before
bed.”
Virion dutifully followed Nemiah as they headed toward the showers, skipping the hot
springs, as Virion had been told the hot springs may have not been kind on his belly. After being
tended to by a rather smug group of nymphs, they slipped into bed with one another. And if the
comforting brush of Clover’s lips brushed Nemiah’s forehead, and the squeeze of Artemis’s hand
graced his shoulder, he said nothing. For what more could he say to thank those around him? The
smile he wore said it all.
 Chapter Seventeen
Virion

The rails had been completed on time. Soldiers-turned-laymen returned home on the very
rail they built forward day by day as they finished the first line between Liaberos and Drashil.
And the first run would be that morning, several cars lined up against the front engine of the
thalmway, a train they’d referred to the lineup as. Each car had been designed with the care of
Liaberos, the style, not the white that Virion expected but a rather elegant sage trimmed with
gold. They’d discovered that white dirtied and fouled far too quickly and the greenish gray hid
dust far better, and Virion could say it suited the machines.
Cradling his growing bump, Virion hefted himself aboard with Nemiah aiding him, cautious
hands smoothing his robes in a worrying fashion. Nemiah had become somewhat of a mother
hen since Virion’s little belly had first presented. The slight tilt of his navel had rounded
considerably, but he was far from due quite yet, and the difference between the high fashion of
Drashil and Liaberos for omegas with child was quite astonishing.
Drashili clothing erred on the side of warm, and since omegas could identify as they chose,
the clothing even there differed, but the masculine slant of the tunic he wore fitted perfectly over
his chest and had a panel laced in back for his growing bump. The coat he wore over the outfit
brushed the tops of his knees as he surveyed the carriage that Nemiah had reserved for them, a
private space with a comfortable lounge, sleeping quarters, and a small kitchenette and
bathroom. Virion understood that he’d be sleeping there for the duration of their visit, as Nemiah
wanted that extra security for him while carrying their child.
Virion dutifully rested a hand over the brocade surface of his tunic and huffed in amusement
as he took a seat, drawing Nemiah’s curious gaze. A playful bubbling sensation danced within
him, evidence their little one stirred within him.
“Vir?” The short affectation from Nemiah’s lips warmed Virion’s heart.
“Come here.” Virion delighted at the movement and drew Nemiah in to slip his hand
beneath his tunic.
 The movements up until that point had been small flutters too imperceptible to show, but it
was as if their child celebrated their ride to come on the thalmway and the barest flutter danced
beneath Nemiah’s fingers. His eyes glimmered with wonder. “Our little one.”
“Praying for a beta or alpha?” Virion chuckled, and Nemiah frowned.
“Not a girl or omega?”
Virion raised a brow. “That isn’t an heir.”
“Is our mother moon not a female? Is my mother not a great leader? Are you not capable of
doing so much and educated to do so?” Nemiah withdrew his hand and leaned in to kiss Virion
with a soft brush of lips. “An heir is an heir. If their thalms are true, they will gift our worlds.”
“Ugh! I am trying to prepare myself for bigotry. Quit being so damn sweet.” Virion playfully
pushed at Nemiah, turning his head to hide his cheeks. From the heat over them, he knew they
must be red, and Nemiah teased him endlessly for how easily he showed his state.
“All prepare to board!” A shout from somewhere outside from a former soldier-turned-
thalmsmith had people ushering into cars farther down the line. Nemiah opened a window to
watch the spectacle and waved at eager people rushing into carriages. Only a few tickets had
been sold for the event, the rest won by lottery from surrounding villages, on the caveat they
stopped at one of three points along the way and a stipulation that the visit was for family or
business only. They wouldn’t be ready for recreational use for a while yet.
“Should I prepare to board you, husband?” Nemiah finished a polite wave and turned,
bearing a lascivious grin.
Virion wilted in his seat. “I don’t feel particularly amorous. I’m big and people keep staring
at me. I feel so disgusting.” Virion sighed.
With a loud click of the blinds keeping the windows covered, Virion jumped in his seat,
heart racing.
“I’ll swear before our mother moon that I find you far more beautiful than any other, my
Sugarmoth.” Nemiah approached, that sweet name for him such an unfair weapon against his
surliness.
“Trust me, I know you find me attractive. It’s just at the point to where—” Virion trailed off,
cheeks burning again.
“Point where, what?” Nemiah joined him on the lounge and brought a hand to his belly.
 “I leak.” Virion said those two words in a whisper, and Nemiah frowned. At nearly four
months along, his bump was merely half of an omega’s cycle. He bore a rather gentle swell, like
that of a small melon, the bow of it higher against his belly.
Nemiah placed his hand atop it reverently, anxiety fluctuating in his thalms. “Do I need to
call the healer? I can have her here. She’s two cars over. I would go nowhere without her with
you in a state.” His eyes, wild as a cornered animal’s, went wide and before he could stand,
Virion gently nudged him with a soothing noise.
“No. It’s… The little one has put weight on my organs and bouncing tends to have them
putting weight on my bladder.” Virion’s voice squeaked at the end.
“Oh… Well, that’s easily solved.” Nemiah gave Virion a dirty chuckle and pushed him over.
Virion bleated in shock and struggled until Nemiah had him on his side, his body spooned
flush against him. “There, no weight.”
“I’m fine just sitting, Nemiah! I can—” Virion struggled until a rather fetching throw that
had been draped over the back of the lounge flowed over them. A warm hand circled his stomach
and slid downward, inching up the hem of his tunic until he cupped Virion’s cock through the
fabric of his trousers. “O-oh.”
“Think we could cuddle like this awhile?” Nemiah rumbled a dark purr against Virion’s ear,
drawing him into a full body shiver. Hand dipping down, Nemiah fondled Virion’s groin, teasing
him into middling hardness.
“Perhaps.” Virion shivered and stifled a sound. A pulse of pleasure rocked through his body
until Nemiah’s hand fished down the front of his pants and palmed his hardening length.
“Definitely.”
“I thought so.” That lascivious, evil chuckle against the back of his neck made the world
spin.
“What about you?” Virion sighed, relaxing with a lazy, catlike stretch while Nemiah did all
the work.
“Perhaps we can try something later, after we get to Liaberos. Perhaps we can find some
corner of your father’s castle to defile.” Nemiah nibbled Virion’s ear once more and slowed his
strokes.
“Yes. Please,” Virion said, his breathy words near silent as shouts from outside announced
the engine being primed. “In the library. I want to ruin the lectern.”
 Nemiah laughed and nuzzled along the back of his neck, warm lips brushing the fine hairs
there for a moment before his spare hand cupped the underside of his head to tilt his ear into
nibbling distance. His teeth, so sharp in places and calculatedly so, gave a peaking sense of
danger. “Goddess, I love it when you whimper like that.”
Virion didn’t even realize the vulnerable noise had eked from him, but he silenced it the
moment he realized and stiffened.
Nemiah’s dark voice vibrated through him. “We’ll be the first to fuck in this carriage. The
first to fuck on the thalmway.”
“Oh fuck, please.” Virion’s inhibitions eased, the pressure on his belly receding moment by
moment.
With a slow stroke, Nemiah rolled his thumb over Virion’s tip and circled the leaking head,
the slickness there spreading across his sensitive nerves. “Are you going to come for me? Get
your filth all over this blanket? Make a mess? How embarrassing. I bet you’re leaking through
your trousers as we speak for want of my cock deep insi—”
A sharp rap shook the door before it swung open. Virion instinctively held the blanket over
them tighter, making prolonged eye contact with a saluting soldier.
“Apologies, Your Majesties, for interrupting your rest, but we are loaded and ready to leave.
The motion is rather unsettling, so if our Silver Prince is delicate, he may want to sip something
light. My mate had troubles on carriages when he carried ours. I realize you may not have ridden
since your pregnancy was announced.” The guard nodded his head politely, completely unaware
of the hard ridge of his king’s cock pressing into Virion’s backside and the stroking hand gently
squeezing his cock that refused to soften.
“I appreciate your care. Thank you for telling us, Otha, was it?” Nemiah’s flat voice held an
amused edge of it that Virion had only recently learned to pick from his dryness.
“Thank you, my king.” He bowed shortly and retreated, closing the door behind him right in
time for Nemiah to lean forward, nip his ear, and grind in.
Virion stifled the cry of pleasure, and the sudden relief of the tense moment overcame him
and pleasure streaked down his spine. “Oh! Shi—” Virion’s entire body lurched and Nemiah’s
hand moved, cupping over the end of Virion’s cock to catch his release in time, letting his thumb
stroke to coax him down.
 “Foul mouth.” Nemiah’s laugh slowed Virion’s heart. “I’ll have to grab you a linen. One
moment.”
Virion adjusted himself as Nemiah pulled away from him, hand all but dripping with
Virion’s release. Boneless contentment slid through Virion, the post-orgasm bliss making him
yawn and settle. With a brush of his hand, he had the evidence of their mess cleaned away with
his magic. Nemiah didn’t allow him to finish though. He aided Virion in fastening his trousers
and settled back into the couch with placating kisses and warm arms.
As the first jolt of movement jostled Virion, he tensed, letting the thing gain speed beneath
them, the blacksteel tracks clacking beneath them. As told by the guard, Virion winced as the
gentle motion increased, taking with it his peace. “The next thing we invent will be something to
settle stomachs. Goddess alive…”
“Need I get the healer?” Nemiah stroked Virion’s side.
“No. I’m fine. My body is just more sloshy than I’m accustomed to.” Virion rolled onto his
back and patted the small swell of his belly.
“Ahh. Sloshy. I so often enquire about the babe, but how are you, really?”
“Tired, sore, nauseous. They move around a lot, so it’s uncomfortable.” Virion offered
Nemiah a half grin.
“That’s more about the state of you and the baby than it is about you. How are you,
emotionally?” Nemiah rejoined him.
“Anxious, I suppose. I’m not ready to see my father again.”
“Well, he has to find out about our child sooner or later, and you do want to help with the
springs. It’ll ingratiate yourself with your father. Earn that respect.” Nemiah took his hand and
joined him on the lounge. “And we’ll need to return your suitor to him.”
“Most of him.” Virion couldn’t withhold the grim snort.
“Ah, something tells me his wife will not miss his testicles.” Nemiah fondled a lock of
Virion’s hair and smiled. “And I’d castrate a thousand more men to keep you safe.”
“That’s the most disgusting and sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. But leave the emasculations
to your mother.”
With a dark chuckle, Nemiah settled in next to Virion and offered him a soft grin. “She will
be thrilled.”
 Chapter Eighteen
Nemiah

Virion slept most of the journey, his face a peaceful mask and breath barely audible over the
din of the tracks.
“Vir. We near Liaberos, and you need to freshen up.” Nemiah nudged Virion as he stirred,
helping him up with a gentle hand to shuffle to the washing quarters. He yawned and shuffled,
water splashing for a few minutes before he came out, face clean, eyes lightly shaded, and hair
pinned neatly into place.
“Am I presentable?”
“You would be even in your night robe and uncombed.” Nemiah drew Virion to sit on his
lap and hugged him happily.
“I think I prefer your cold side a little more right now, husband.” Virion squeaked as Nemiah
nibbled affectionately at his back.
“I have to get it out of my system before we stop. Remember to keep your emotions silent,
too.”
“I’ll follow your lead.”
“Good. Because you are my consort. If something happened to me, you’d be king. My
mother would attend and advise you in some capacity, but you carry my heir and would rule until
they came of age.” Nemiah nuzzled down his back gently, enjoying the last of the affection he
could have for a time.
When the engine slowed, the thalmic hum of the machines lessened as the clack of the tracks
came at longer intervals. Soon after that, the excited cheers of Liaberians could be heard, but
Nemiah made no mistake that the cheer was for his or Virion’s arrival. When the machine came
to a stop, riders poured from the doors, rushing out to meet friends and family long parted,
tradesmen with new wares, sensitive goods, and books on trade and loan between their
conservatory and the Liaberian’s.
Nemiah flicked a finger at the window coverings to peer outside before his guards opened
the doors.
 King Alluin sat imperiously near his carriage as the commoners ran about, moving in
ordered chaos to make way for him. He looked thinner than last Nemiah had seen him, pale.
Nemiah took the first step off the train, and the clang of a guard’s shield rose as a projectile of
some sort made way to his direction.
A young boy sat clutching a fistful of rocks, glaring in their direction.
A guard turned, hand on his sword, and Liaberian guards drew their weapons.
“Wait.” Nemiah gestured for Virion to stand back. “He’s a child. Ask why he needs to throw
stones before drawing steel.”
He gave the child a long, cool stare, waiting for the shaking child to speak, his expression
twisting somewhere between terror and furiousness. “Speak.”
“The thalmway killed my father!” The child, venerated, threw another stone, pinging off a
guard’s helmet. The Liaberian soldiers moved in but, surprisingly, King Alluin called them back.
“How?” Nemiah parted the soldiers and earned a well-aimed rock to his shoulder, scuffing
the leather there.
“He went to work on the tracks and never came home!” The boy tossed another stone that
missed Nemiah, a flop of dirty hair of some shade of brown falling over his forehead.
Turning, Nemiah addressed his soldiers and had one leave to enquire about any deaths
related to construction. As far as Nemiah was aware, there were no casualties.
A woman from the crowd shouldered her way through and grabbed the boy, tears pouring.
“Sima. Stop this. Please!” Her softer voice petered out among the whispers of the crowd.
“You killed our prince and my father and you’ll take until we’re burned down like all the
other places the Drashil warred!” The young boy shouted from the woman’s arms and a guard
returned with a whisper, confirming no deaths were reported.
Virion, against Nemiah’s orders, took a step out and rested a hand on Nemiah’s shoulder as
he came into view. “I assure you, young one, I am very much alive.”
Nemiah turned, cautious of reacting too much, but offered Virion a hand. If he couldn’t stop
his mate, he could at least protect him.
“Now, would you like to come here with your caregiver and tell me what happened?”
Virion’s thalms flared lightly, the light casting of a spell evident in the hum of magic between
them. A protection spell? It made sense.
 The child calmed and the woman lessened her grip, approaching the guards and Nemiah
with shaking caution. “Please. He doesn’t understand.”
Virion knelt down and held out a hand, taking the little boy’s without hesitation. The rocks
fell from his palm and he reached out, hugging him with a huff and whimper.
“His father went to work on the rail and didn’t come home. Sima presented as omega and…
He took the job off distant and sent a letter that he’d moved on.” The woman’s face twisted
uneasily.
“You his mother?” Nemiah tilted his head.
“Aunt. Mother passed on a few years ago.” The woman reached down to tug on the boy’s
shoulder.
“That’s not good at all.” Virion kept the hug going as he patted the boy’s back.
“And I can’t keep up with him. I have six of my own, and their father is off in the mines.”
She sighed heavily.
“Well, what are your thalms, Sima?” Virion pulled back, and the boy whispered.
“Thirteen! That’s a good number.” Virion smiled at the number, barely above average. But
for a commoner, not bred or blessed to be successful, it was good. “And you’re omega?”
The boy nodded.
Virion turned his head and gave Nemiah a long stare. Tons of meaning lay in his expression.
“Can you read or write?” Nemiah’s voice rolled smoothly.
“I can read a little and write my name.” Sima sniffled.
“Good. My page needs an apprentice. If so you choose, you may become our ward and earn
a wage, learn to write and maths. It appears your father is fine, he just chose to find you a new
mother and hasn’t found one for you, quite yet.” Nemiah stared at his nails and glanced up at the
glistening-eyed child, then his aunt who nodded appreciatively.
“New momma?” His little pink lips formed a soft O, dusty hair falling over his equally dirty
face.
“I have three lovely imps and a castle of women that have no problem spoiling an
apprentice. You may feel free to come with us when we leave. Leave contact with my guards if
that sounds acceptable. After all, it was my thalmway that enabled this situation.” Nemiah
reached out and patted the child’s head a few times. He lowered his voice as he rested a hand on
Virion’s shoulder. “Are you a boy or other?”
 The boy’s eyes widened. “I’m omega… I want to be a boy though…”
“You are a boy. As am I.” Virion gave the boy one more hug and smiled.
“You’re welcome to him if you are offering him an apprenticeship.” The aunt fanned her
hand at herself and nodded. “Would you like that, Sima?”
“Will I get to see the Blessed Prince?” His shrill little voice squeaked out of Virion’s arms.
“I promise, all that I can. We can make plans for you to dine with us often. Perhaps
luncheon?” Virion pulled away from the boy and tilted his head.
Sima nodded.
“Okay. Miss, speak with our guards and have arrangements made. He’ll ride home in our
carriage. I promise, and he will write and visit as possible.” Virion watched as she patted his
head and led him off, balancing himself with a hand on his side. When his face slipped that cold
veil back over, he glanced toward his father.
King Alluin’s expression was twisted. It was unmistakable from his expression. He saw
Virion’s belly and beneath the sourness of his expression lay many complex things that Nemiah
needed to decipher.
“My dear father-in-law. Now that the dramatics are over, how are you?” Nemiah urged
Virion at his side and held his chin aloft.
“I see you’ve made do on your promise of an heir. And, Virion, it is nice to see you.” His
mouth twisted into a forced but nervous smile.
“He has, and I’ve grown fond of him.” Nemiah guided Virion forward and into the carriage
by King Alluin. “But he’s graciously said that he will make time to come visit the springs. It was
a tough decision, but the moon speaks her truth loudly, and has no problem speaking for her
sister.”
“Y—yes. Our sun speaks firmly, too. She made it clear she would like Virion to answer to
her. Strange that she would speak to an—” He wrung his hands nervously, that expression he hid
full of all the bitterness he couldn’t contain. “A prince.”
Nemiah’s cool gaze didn’t change, but Virion’s posture stood swift and tall, lavishing in his
father’s discomfort. “I find I rather enjoy speaking with Virion as well. His spellwork is fantastic
and has a mind worthy of conversation for hours.” Nemiah aided Virion in sitting before taking
his own seat.
 “Yes. I have heard that… There’s been a lot of things I—oversights.” Alluin climbed in and
closed the carriage door. “After you have the child. You are free to return. I encourage it. I—we
could find another husband—”
Virion held a hand up with as much demure calmness as he possessed. “No, sir. The moon
and sun blessed our union. Our mating is true.”
“But I forced you into—”
“And that changes nothing. Nemiah has treated me kindly and I bear his child. I will bear
more if the goddess wills.” Virion cut his gaze to Nemiah and offered a lingering stare,
something softening in his eyes.
“Well, you understand—had I any idea that you were… They say you have thirty-two—”
Virion raised his hand once more. “Your lack of foresight does not necessitate my need for
change. I respect that the goddess has required me to do things. I will do that which is required
by the goddesses. After, I will return to my home. I am as the Drashil have declared me, their
Silver Prince, and I have fallen into my role comfortably.”
“Surely you cannot be comfortable there!” King Alluin glared at Nemiah. “Or is it your
husband that holds your opinions? Does he threaten you?”
A flicker of pride rose in Nemiah’s chest as he slanted his gaze toward Virion, who merely
stared at his father as emptily as Nemiah had coached him to.
“Really, Father? Now you care?” Virion raised a perfect brow and smirked before casting his
gaze away. “But no. I have far more freedom and fun in Drashil than I did here. My handmaids
saw me off, and my mother-in-law expects me home soon to see to state matters.” Virion
inspected his nails and buried his hands in his lap politely.
Alluin pursed his lips. “I see. Omegas aren’t—”
“Omegas aren’t allowed to do much of anything in Liaberos, Father. We’re not even allowed
to have gender. Does it terrify you to find out I am capable?” Virion didn’t glance at his father,
but Nemiah sat back and did his best to hide his amusement.
“I see you’ve been spoiled there. Was it so bad here, in Liaberos? You had fine food and
drink. The best education, a maidservant, and a wardrobe full of finery. I would pay you,
Nemiah, handsomely, to have Virion back.”
Nemiah shook his head. “I’d rather go back to war than part with him, and you know how
much I detest war.”
 “Father. When you had me led from this castle, not a soul gathered to bid me farewell. I was
escorted out like a dismissed chambermaid.” Virion’s flat voice held none of the sting in it that
Nemiah would have added. “When I left for this short trip, my handmaids all waved me farewell.
My mother-in-law nearly wept. I had staff that lamented my departure. I am loved, Father. I
wasn’t loved here. I haven’t been for a very long time. Not since Mother, at any rate.”
The words soured King Alluin’s expression, and he opened his mouth to say something a
few times, but ultimately said nothing else as the carriage made its way toward the castle.
“It’s the harvest, isn’t it?” Nemiah peered out the windows as they passed by vendor stalls
overflowing with goods.
“It is.” Virion peered out a window and waved toward curious onlookers. So many people
milled about, an influx of Drashili and dusk wandering about with introspective gazes, enamored
with the new fare. Virion didn’t pay it much mind, as he favored Drashili food, and had only
doubled down on that since pregnant.
“Ah, yes. Citronelia is in season for us. We’re exporting some on this train back to Drashil,
as well as grains and fruits. You’ve also brought more flashpine and blacksteel for the continued
leg of the tracks. I believe the geothalmists have leveled the path between here and Likwyf. We
had intended to do Senesmal, but they were far too interested in weapons transport and you know
how we feel about that.” Alluin regained some of his composure.
“Ours is not for several weeks still. Is there anything you’d fancy while here, my Silver
Prince?” Nemiah said, enunciating those last two words.
“I wouldn’t say no to some fresh citronelia. Birch syrup is in the winter so, if I must, I’ll
return then.” Virion hesitated and frowned. “I’ll be due by the winter’s coldest, so perhaps the
syrup will have to be brought to me, then.”
“I’m sure you and the nymphs will be so busy looking after our little one that you will
hardly have time to miss it.” Nemiah forced a laugh that earned a cold glare from Virion.
“I will not be deprived of birch syrup.”
Alluin nodded sagely. “Just like his mother.” Those last four words left a bitterness hanging
in the air. Rather than retract his words or apologize, he spoke quietly. “We were arranged and
did not love one another. But we did raise our children, and when she carried, she was insistent
upon her flavors even while nursing.”
 The words seemed to soothe Virion, and he went back to staring out the windows. “Nemiah
and I are very fond of one another. Your match was well made, Father, even if not to your
intended benefit.”
“I’ve angered the goddess, you understand.” Alluin’s soft admission made Virion turn his
head.
“I heard. The moon told me. I am needed to bless the Vitalis springs so the kingdom may
prosper. To my knowledge, bargaining me away from my husband was not part of your orders, so
I’d appreciate you not to make foul accusations or attempt to lure me away from my mate.”
Virion’s flat voice sent a chill down Nemiah’s spine. Part of him realized how much he
appreciated Virion’s positivity and sweetness when they spoke. “We pray in the morning and I’ll
speak with her as requested. I’m well rested and you can take me straight to the springs. If
there’s no further business, we’ll leave on the morrow. If there is further business—”
“Saria is being married,” King Alluin said. “In three days. You should stay for it.”
“Unless I am required to attend, I was not invited, nor was a missive sent informing me. I
assume that neither my husband nor I are welcome.” Their missive didn’t mention her marriage,
only that the springs needed his attention. Virion was well aware of the lack of invitation or
news.
“I—it was an oversight, I am sure.” Alluin cleared his throat.
“I’m sure. Seeing as Saria didn’t speak to me when I departed nor when I was wed—I see
every need to return the curtesy. Besides, I didn’t bring a gift. It would be rude.” Virion inclined
his head toward the door as the carriage rolled to a stop before the castle entrance.
“What you do for the springs is more than enough of a gift.” His father clenched his fists as
Virion stood. The door opened at the hand of a guard and Nemiah took his hand, stepping out
before the king to assist Virion down. The guards blinked in shock, clearly surprised that Virion
would go before his father. And, from the pinch of some of their eyes, they held clear contempt
for the prince.
Turning his head over his shoulder as his father rose to depart, Virion shrugged. “I do it for
the goddess, not you. You made it clear I was no longer of the sun, nor a member of this
kingdom.”
Alluin stood with plain defeat in his expression and descended the steps. The disgust and
humiliation of someone forced to bow before a beggar showed plain on his face.
 “The springs?” Nemiah gestured for Alluin to lead.
As if wanting to argue, Alluin paused, opening and closing his mouth a few times before
nodding and leading the way.
 Chapter Nineteen
Virion

The castle he’d called home from his birth until only a season ago seemed devoid of
character, as drab and lifeless as he thought the Drashil castle would be.
Several halls passed them by, down steps and down one wing and another. The purpose of
the jaunt to make finding the place more difficult if intruders attempted theft or destruction. Few
had tried, and all had failed. The goddess jealously guarded her tears.
“So, you may not know the words, but—” King Alluin started, but Virion interrupted,
impatience clear in his voice.
“I’ve seen the springs a thousand times and read the inscription on the wall. It was the only
thing to do every ceremony I was forced to witness.” Virion pushed ahead as the vaulted doors
opened to something far less impressive than the springs beneath Nemiah’s estate, but the
purpose of this one was far holier.
Where months ago the water held a subtle glow, then it only appeared milky, opalescent with
a faintly sour odor. A drip of water descended from a stalactite at the center of an ancient room,
naturally hewn from a cavern. Since it was common for castles to be built over natural caverns
for the temperature control, some natural features often existed at the lower levels. For this room,
it was the slow drip of water condensing through the limestone at a single mineral point into an
elegantly adorned basin that had been tilted to funnel into an urn they used to collect the Vitalis.
The urn overflowed, the water soured and useless.
The walls had been scraped and carved with ornate historical scripts, illustrations in relief.
The stone itself had a chalky texture, a crust of fine crystals over the light-gray surface. Virion
approached the wall sconce bearing the engraving, roving his fingers over the rough surface as
he’d done a hundred times before.
Mother Goddess, born of sun, your sons and daughters come to you, our hands cupped in
supplication. May your tears not be shed in vain. May you give us life. As the keepers of your
tears, may we drink of them and prosper.
Virion had mastered the art of a spell unspoken. In his training, an omega was to be silent.
He could think whatever he liked though. Vehemently.
 As he’d seen his mother do before him, and his father’s father before he passed, Virion kept
the words in his mind and reached for the stalactite, letting a drop touch his fingers. As it slid
down his slender digits, it regained its golden glow.
“You need to speak th—” His father halted mid-word as Virion touched that drop to the
water’s surface. Like blood in water, it spread and flowed, tendrils of light venturing forward to
join the water. “Mother Goddess…”
Virion stared intently, making sure the magic continued to spread. The seed of his blessing
grew and sprouted. Like vines, it covered the sourness of the water in its fine sheen. “That is one
thing you taught me well, Father. How to not need to speak.”
His father’s jaw dropped, mouth open for a lingering few seconds.
“Really, Father, close your mouth. It’s unbecoming of a beta.” Virion’s flat tone silenced
Alluin as color raced over his cheeks. Knowing his father could do little to retaliate made the
entire thing worthwhile. And, where once he’d seen his father as an impeding force, strength and
rule preventing him from flourishing, he saw him for the weak man he was, then.
A fire burned in Nemiah’s eyes as they caught one another’s gaze. He mouthed four words
that Virion always wanted to hear. I’m proud of you.
Goddess knew Alluin would never say them. The gulp and silence that came from his father,
from him swallowing his pride, was all the reward he could have asked for. “Thank you.”
Virion froze in place. His heart fluttered momentarily at the thanks, but he buried it down.
“It is still early in the day yet. There’s business to attend to with the matter of a former suitor.”
Nemiah cleared his throat, and Alluin led the way to ready him to take the prisoner to do
with what he saw fit.

***

Sitting at the dining table in the place of an honored guest instead of at the far end was a
different experience in those halls. Virion continuously reminded himself to hold his head aloft
and remember that his station was far greater than it had been.
As he took a bite, a warm, comforting weight settled on his thigh then rose. Nemiah’s hand
shifted to nudge his belly affectionately. The babe within fluttered excitedly, and from Nemiah’s
softening expression, he felt it too.
 “You truly do care for him?” Seidrik, his brother, as light blond and blue of eye as his father
spoke up from his place at the table, spoon paused halfway between his bowl and mouth.
Nemiah turned his head back. “I do. He’s very intelligent and an excellent
conversationalist.”
“But Father said you’d be miserable.” Seidrik narrowed his gaze, his full cheeks giving him
a slightly pudgy look despite his lithe frame.
“Don’t act so offended, Brother. He has faith in my abilities.” Virion took a bite of the bland
soup, a cream base of some sort, with a light peppery herb stewed in.
Seidrik’s face twisted into doubt. “I doubt any of your abilities need bragging about. Half
the palace beta servants can attest to your abilities.”
Virion kept his face schooled. “And what abilities would my older brother be speaking
about? With the beta servants? Please, elaborate, Brother.”
“That’s enough, Seidrik!” Alluin slammed his fist onto the table, making him jump. Virion
tensed but ultimately didn’t react. “He was required to prove his virtue.”
“What virtue? Virion’s backside whistles in a good breeze, he’s so used.”
Nemiah cleared his throat. “He proved his virtue. He bled for me, and whatever you assume
happened was far before my name ever touched his lips. Therefore, it’s not my concern. And I
highly doubt it’s the concern of his brother. Or have you something to confess?” Nemiah tilted
his head and reached under the table for Virion’s hand, giving a reassuring squeeze.
Nemiah was not unaware of Virion’s handful of lovers. He was not a promiscuous sort, but
he alleviated himself every odd season or so. In turn, Virion had been made aware of Nemiah’s
history, not blow for blow but a curt reminder that he’d had a few lovers and was experienced. It
didn’t bother Virion, though, because he had part of Nemiah that nobody else would. His soul.
Seidrik made a disgusted noise and Alluin’s face reddened with anger. “You are dismissed,
son.”
“But, Father, I’ve barely started my dinn—”
“Dismissed!” Alluin’s shout brought an attendant over who tidied up about him and pulled
Seidrik’s chair out like they would for a child, as they’d done to Virion so many times. A certain
satisfaction settled in Virion’s chest. A taste of his own medicine.
 “Oh, Seidrik! I must say, I appreciated your company this evening. I’m sure the wine was
heavy and your tongue is loose, so no need for apologies.” Nemiah’s curt words made Seidrik
glare before he stormed off.
“I—he’s spirited. But what is it that Virion has had ideas for?” Alluin fumbled his fingers.
“Well, we have ways of sending out missives faster with the thalmway, but I wanted to be
able to use magic to speak with one another from far away. My original concept was rather
rudimentary, sending coded messages through the air to be translated at the other end, but Virion
showed me how to transmit voice. He took a few minutes’ look at my notes while I was taking a
nap and left the plans on my desk. Had he the ability to meld blacksteel like we do, I’m sure he’d
have built the thing himself.” Nemiah’s face broke into a pleasant smile, eyes agleam with
affection.
“Virion never graduated from finishing school. How would he—” King Alluin frowned.
“I spent all my spare time at the conservatory and the library learning. Just because I never
had a ceremony doesn’t mean I never sat through the lessons.” Virion snorted and sipped lightly
at the tea they’d given him in lieu of alcohol.
“So that is what you did there. I found it strange they had offered you a spot in the
conservatory with only six thalms. I thought they had ulterior motives.” King Alluin frowned.
“Anyway. Sour feelings aside. We’re here for your springs, to reinforce our alliance, to pass
the news along that an heir comes. As we were not invited to the wedding, other plans were made
and please extend our congratulations to her coming nuptials. In lieu of a gift, we’ll leave you
with one of Virion’s Telecon units. It only connects to a few places at the moment, but we can
send word the moment our young one is born.” Nemiah didn’t look back at King Alluin but
rather at his mate. Virion gave Nemiah a flick of his brow, lips tilted into what he hoped was a
coy smile.
The glimmer he got in return meant the world to him, and they understood one another
perfectly.
“Speaking of libraries, Father. May I spend some time in the collections this evening?”
Virion snaked a hand into Nemiah’s lap to find his hand and squeezed. He’d defile every lectern
in the place.
 “Of course. Your quarters are made up for you to sleep there. Trunks were brought in. Pilki
has been returned to you for the night and we’ll have someone wake you for sunrise.” Alluin
waved his hand dismissively as Virion took the hint and wiped his mouth clean.
“Thank you, Father. This will be very helpful in my research.” Virion rose and good things
were on their way.
 Chapter Twenty
Nemiah

Nemiah had taken Virion in the back corner of the library, bending him over a lectern just as
Virion had promised. The entire display had been a little awkward and forced, but it seemed to
make his mate happy to spill himself all over the expensively woven rug.
Nemiah found himself unable to sleep in Virion’s room, the large windows in his secluded
room well in view of the full moon, his goddess watching him intently. There was something
intimate about knowing his Mother Goddess watched his mate sleep as he grew up, every night
unable to hear from either of the sisters that kept watch over him.
When the waning face of the moon sank far out of view and the sky began to glow in that
familiar way, a rather oblivious attendant began milling about, dropping things and stumbling.
Nemiah sneered and sat up, running a protective hand over Virion, tentatively settling on the
swell of their unborn child.
“Rise and shine, my Blessed Prince!” The doors swung open and the fae woman squeaked in
start.
“It’s the Silver Prince, now,” Nemiah said, staring the woman down as Virion slid from bed
and grumbled.
“I bathed last night. Fix my hair up and I’ve an outfit with me. I had it laid out for me last
night.” Virion held his head aloft and strode from the room, his face colder than even when
Alluin had stared him down.
“Bless’d,” she said, ignoring Nemiah’s order for her to call him Silver Prince. “Your father
wants you to—”
“My father may want many things, but you are to braid my hair as a man, and are not to
speak to me as a blessed anything.” Virion undid his night braid, letting the silken strands fall
down in waves.
“Why are you so terse, my bl—S-silver Prince?” Her stumbled words ended with pursed lips
and a fierce blush over her cheeks. “Have I done anything to d-displease you?”
 “It’s of no concern to you.” Virion’s posture told many things, the least of which was for the
attendant to cease speaking as she did his hair and dressed him wordlessly. She cast her eyes
down and bid him farewell before backing out.
Taking that as the cue for them to leave, Nemiah offered his hand and escorted Virion to the
hall to walk the long way through the waning dark to the temple where they might greet the sun
that morning.
Nemiah hadn’t expected better when they reached the temple doors, staring at two guards
who drew weapons to bar him from entering.
Virion put a hand on the shaft of the lacquered spear. “My husband goes with me, or I do not
go.”
The guards glanced back and forth between one another but didn’t budge. Nemiah stood
quietly in place, letting Virion stand up for him. It would do no good to overrule his husband’s
demand.
“I said, either we both go, or neither of us go.” Virion held his ground for several seconds
before turning to Nemiah. “We are not welcome. The goddess has asked for me and they have
denied me.”
They made it a half dozen steps away before a pale and breathless Alluin shoved his way
past the guards. “Let them in!”
Nemiah stared at Alluin as he coaxed Virion over, inviting Nemiah with a placating wave to
the affronted guards. “Sir, he is a worshiper of the night!”
Alluin glared at the soldier. “And my son’s mate. Our goddess has demanded Virion’s
presence, and he has stated firmly that he goes nowhere without his mate. I’m sure the Mother
Goddess will forgive me for allowing a night worshiper in if he’s attached to Virion.”
“I hold much respect for the sun and her followers. The moon is my Mother Goddess, sister
to the sun. Therefore, the sun is an aunt to me, and worthy of my respect.” Nemiah offered his
best smile, which didn’t put any of them at ease, but it made him feel better, at least. A Drashili
king, sharp of tooth and long of ear, was always a terrifying thing to the softness of the sun fae.
Virion told Nemiah he’d seen the ceremonies a dozen times before, or more, but had made
his visits less frequent as he felt more disrespected. So, when he approached the central aisle of
the temple toward the grand window facing the rising sun, Virion marched forward with
confidence before milling patrons, whispering among themselves.
 As the night was quiet, her worshipers spoke to her as they willed, outside of temples, to
understand that no one person held any more sway to the goddess than another. Even the sun and
her great temples understood that, and her words became fewer to her people because of it, or so
the moon had told him.
Nemiah followed Alluin and took a seat near the front of the many filled pews. A robed
priest stared Virion down with a mix of uncertainty and disgust. In the ways of Liaberians, the
omegas were unfit to speak to the goddess, and a pregnant omega was considered unclean and
not allowed to set foot in a temple. Virion broke many traditions as he held his chin aloft,
wearing the garments of a man, visibly with child, the mate of a night fae.
Silence spread across the crowd as Virion strode past the cleric and toward the expansive
window framing the sunrise. Bright light kissed the windows in a bright gleam as they swung
open, highlighting Virion’s silken pale hair like a halo.
He sank down to one knee, head bowing for only a moment before it lifted. The brightness
of the sun’s touch washed him out amid the pale colors that Liaberians favored. He almost
disappeared as the sun pushed free of the horizon in greeting for him, like great arms reaching
out to hold.
Several minutes passed before Virion lifted his head and stood, still facing the goddess for a
long while. The barest whisper of Virion’s soothing voice tickled Nemiah’s ears, words unclear.
So, when Virion turned, and the goddess spoke, her voice boomed loud enough to rattle the
temple windows. Nemiah, son of my sister, come take your beloved’s hand and look at the
gathering before you.
Nemiah did as commanded, climbing the steps to the dais as Virion took his hands, facing
him.
Son of my sister, child of the night, I give to you my favored son. Virion, holder of the gift of
Vitalis and rider of the blacksteel road. Bringer of voices to the forgotten.
Gasps and mutters spread through the nave.
Your beta son is impotent, and the child your daughter conceived is not that of the man she
claims. Best you look to her staff for the true sire, as her betrothed does not know he did not sire
the child.
Nemiah schooled his reaction, but Virion’s eyes widened. So that’s why the wedding was so
sudden.
 Further whispers and gossip silenced as the goddess spoke again.
The child Virion bears and those to come shall lead both Drashil for my sister and Liaberos
for myself. I only ask that I be allowed to pick the child best suited when time comes.
“Be it that you and your sister agree, I accept if Nemiah does.” Virion stared at Nemiah and
gave him a steeled gaze that fell flat under the watering of his eyes.
“I accept.” Nemiah’s voice cracked as he said it, presenting his horns for Virion as a show of
his affection. In turn, Virion did the same, their wings unleashing in tandem.
And before the king to witness, my clerics and worshipers, I declare your union blessed.
Speak, Nemiah. Tell my gift what you feel.
Nemiah, startled, lost composure at the command and took a shuddering breath, not wanting
to speak for fear of seeming weak. “Virion, the moment I saw you I thought you fair and comely.
As we grew to know one another, I saw the brilliance in your mind, the kindness of your ways,
and the acceptance you hold for change. You are a shining star in my night, a complement to the
moon. In all ways, I am yours, before the sun and our Mother Goddess, the moon. Know that I
love you.”
And you, Virion?
“You are swarthy and handsome. I adore your secret smiles and the little things you do to
show me you care. You are the first male to have taken me seriously, to listen to me and see
something other than my gender or station. You were the first to see me as something other than
a burden. And to see you have a brilliant mind that you use for good… I love you, too.”
They leaned into one another and shared a soft kiss, chaste in the way they reserved for
public displays, but Virion’s eyes promised more. Nemiah could stare into those eyes forever. “If
I’d told you a day sooner how my heart felt, it’d have not meant as much as it does now, but I’ve
wanted to say it since the moment you set foot in my lab.”
Alluin is king only in name. My bloodline ends with him and begins with Virion. His children
shall seat the throne of Liaberos and hold the cup of Vitalis aloft. And from this day forward, no
omega shall be denied speaking to me. May they pray to me and feel my glory and blessings.
Know now, Liaberos. If you do not heed my warnings, Vitalis will turn to poison and a thousand
years of darkness, I will promise you.
Nemiah chanced a glance toward Alluin, who sat pale-faced, cheeks growing red as he
poorly hid his growing rage.
 Speak, Alluin.
Alluin stood and cleared his throat, speaking as loud as his wheedling voice could carry. “As
the goddess has commanded, in her light, we obey.”
As the sun came into full fruition, the light bathed them first, spreading out among the
crowd as Virion inhaled the power in the air and flit his wings, drawing them into a flitting hum.
As he rose off his feet, Nemiah rose too, flying to one another as their arms entwined. The kiss
that followed, while less chaste, held all the promise of a wonderful life to come.
When the moment ended and they landed on pointed toes, the crowd bowed in silence
before rising and dispersing at the behest of the priests. Alluin couldn’t look at the two of them,
his gaze anywhere but on them until he found his daughter, face twisted into a scowl. “Saria…”
Her face twisted into something bitter and full of disgust, but she said nothing, holding her
shame in silence. After all, she dared not call the goddess a liar.
“I suppose the wedding is off?” Virion stared his sister down as she turned her head away in
shame.
A young male sat beside her and while he didn’t appear to be happy, he wasn’t enraged. He
stood and held his hand out to Saria. “Come, dear. This changes nothing of our union.”
“You’ve every right to cancel the ceremony. You’re under no obligation if the child is not
yours.” Alluin braced his shoulders tight.
The male turned back and stared Alluin down. “This is something we will discuss and grow
beyond.”
“Kinsir, you cannot—” King Alluin spluttered and Saria clenched her fists, head bowed in
shame.
“I can. Saria and I share a lover, and I can no more fault her than I can fault myself.” Her
suitor, Kinsir, Nemiah supposed, took her hand and gave Nemiah and Virion a nod of respect
before striding out of the temple.
Virion nodded in response and took Nemiah’s hand as they saw themselves out, Alluin on
their heels. “Have you something to say, Father?”
Alluin opened his mouth to speak a few times and closed his mouth in silence. Still, Virion
waited politely.
“Your mother tried to warn me before she passed. She said that the goddess loved you so
much. I didn’t think it true.” Alluin swallowed hard. “What is done is done.”
 “And cannot be undone. I think our relationship shall remain transactional and cordial. I will
be returning to Drashil with my mate and will visit Liaberos after the little one is born to bless
the springs once more and introduce the babe to the goddess.” Virion rested a hand over his belly
and turned his head to stare at the light still aglow in the window. “I hope that we stay on better
terms. And for what it is worth, I am sorry that Saria and Seidrik have fallen short of your
ideals.”
Alluin’s entire posture fell as he sagged beneath it all. Seidrik would sire no offspring, and
Saria bore a bastard. The entirety of his line fell on the one son he made clear he never wanted.
“Question, Father.” Virion turned to face his father, face unreadable.
Alluin raised his gaze, the fire gone from his eyes. Full defeat.
“Did you honestly believe I was six thalms?”
“I…” Alluin shook his head. “Seidrik passed on the information from your tutors. With you
being omega and so low in thalms, right after your mother passed, I didn’t care anymore.”
Virion stared Alluin down before nodding once and turning his back. “Have people show
him how to use the Telecon. Nemiah and I will be on our way home this evening. The weather
here doesn’t suit the babe this time of year.”
They strode away with Alluin standing dumbfounded, no words he could say in response to
all that had happened. Not as much as a goodbye or a word of praise passed Alluin’s lips.
As their guards assembled and brought around a carriage, Nemiah swept a hand around
Virion’s waist. It felt odd, having been acknowledged by their goddess, united and recognized by
his first mother. Virion didn’t react, though, as stoic as Nemiah had pressured him to be.
“Sugarmoth, my mate,” Nemiah said as they sidled into the carriage.
Virion glanced up, his face falling into exhaustion and relief once the door shut.
“What did happen to your mother?”
Virion leaned into Nemiah’s side and shrugged. “She and my brother died in childbirth. It
wasn’t my father’s child, so they kept it quiet.”
“Oh.” Nemiah stroked over Virion’s head. “How would he have known?”
“Dusk child.” Virion buried his face in Nemiah’s neck and let a shuddering breath loose.
“So, quite obviously, it wasn’t his.”
“Oh. I am so sorry. Did you find out who the father was or…”
 “No clue. She never was seen with a night fae. Someone would have noticed and if it was
against her will, she’d have taken preparations…” Virion averted his gaze and drew a circle with
his finger over Nemiah’s knee. “Even I knew of the precautions to take if I were to have made a
mistake, or was made someone’s mistake.”
Nemiah nodded. He hated that females and omegas had concerns like that. He hoped his
mate never had those fears again.
“Not that anyone’s gotten close enough to try. Well, save for the new eunuch.” Virion waved
his hand dismissively. “My personal barriers provide me with the defenses I need for those
situations, and I am not like my brother. I didn’t frequent public venues.”
Nemiah nodded, letting his mate speak as he sought his hand for a gentle grasp. “You’re so
very strong and smart. I’ll never get over that.”
“And you never judge someone by their status. You never held me to an omega’s standard,
even at the beginning, you viewed me as an equal.”
“Not an equal. I admit I didn’t view you as aristocracy, but I viewed you as fae. I do not treat
anyone poorly that is made to serve me. And you were given to me to perform a very important
task.” Nemiah leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “You are my better in so many ways now
that I have come to know you.”
“You’re sweet.” Virion hummed and leaned into Nemiah’s affection until the jostling cart
came to a halt none too soon. The pallor of his mate’s face had slowly drained into a sickly pale,
reminding him of how important the thalmway had been as compared to conventional carriage,
especially for those with child.
As they disembarked, their guards lined up to make their way toward their carriage. The
train was not due to leave for several more hours, but they had to wait for Sima to be ready and
the cargo to be loaded. In addition, their things needed to be brought back from the castle.
They’d planned on staying a few nights, but with the way cargo needed to move, continuing to
bring the blacksteel rails and flashpine ties, it was no hardship to take them home early. In fact,
they’d kept the option open.
“You certain you want to take the boy?” Virion strode forward and climbed into their car,
settling down comfortably.
 “I don’t see why not. He was feisty and can read. I appreciate someone who doesn’t hold
their tongue. He spoke his truth and settled when we showed him different. All things that matter
to me in an attendant.” Nemiah settled in beside him and waited for the boy to be brought.
 Chapter Twenty-One
Virion

When the train disembarked that day, Sima, the omega child they’d agreed to apprentice,
had already been aboard for over an hour, climbing over every shining surface to stare at things
with wide-eyed wonder and a thousand questions.
“And how is this ma—sorry.” He pulled away from the window frames and slatted blinds,
lips twisted in an effort to silence.
“I am not engaged with business. Ask, little one. How else are you to learn if you do not
ask?” Nemiah’s lips spread wide into a grin Virion had once envisioned as menacing.
“How do the windows not break when the carriage rattles?” Sima scrutinized the window
again, turning in his seat to stare at the moving scenery.
“Well, that’s a very interesting question. The long story or the short story?” Nemiah
chuckled and drew Virion to his side. Virion had never seen him interact with children before,
and it was surprising.
“Short, then long!” Sima prodded at the edges of the window.
“Very well!” Nemiah beamed. “Something squishy in the linings so it doesn’t rattle. And
since the panes are flat, they’re not under stress.”
“Oh.” Sima waited patiently as Nemiah described in detail the vertex sap they drained and
processed to make an elastic compound, very similar to a chewing candy they made.
Virion dozed as Nemiah spoke until a soft voice in that loud sort of whisper only a child
could do stirred his attention. “I think the Ble—Silver Prince is sleepy.”
“He’s very sleepy. The babe says he must take extra naps, and it eats all his sleep up.”
Nemiah adjusted himself and Virion stirred, yawning halfheartedly.
Virion drifted off again, settling into comfort and warmth until a light weight draped over
the blanket on his legs. Sima climbed onto their lounge and sprawled out, nestling against
Virion’s legs for comfort. He wiggled a few times, adjusting himself and stilled enough to let
Virion drift off, too.
The ride there had been much longer in some ways, shorter than others, but sleeping made
the journey but a blink in an otherwise uneventful experience. So, when the eerie whistle of the
brakes and bells sounded out, drawing Virion awake, he wasn’t startled to find Nemiah dozed off
on his shoulder and Sima sprawled out rather obnoxiously in a full starfish over his legs.
“Alright, boys.”
Nemiah stirred first and Sima blinked sleepy eyes, little chestnut curls sticking up in all
directions over his head. “I believe we’re here, little one. We can find my page and the nymphs
to see if they’d like to get you a bath.”
Sima yawned and nodded groggily, climbing off a stirring Virion. He’d become accustomed
to the kingdom in no time, and find it much better, as Virion had.
Kiara met them as they dragged themselves off the thalmway, yawning as Sima hid behind
Virion’s heels. “Who have we here?”
“An apprentice to my page. Perhaps he can be Virion’s page in time.” Nemiah rested a
reassuring hand on Sima’s shoulder as he peered up at everyone with a gaping mouth and wide
eyes.
“Everyone looks like you, sir.” His quiet awe made Kiara laugh as she reached a hand out to
him.
“Yes, that is how we tend to look in Drashil. And you intend on being an apprentice?” Kiara
swept Sima away, chattering happily about the ride over and his idea of what serving Virion
would be like.
Nemiah took Virion by his arm and they made their way to the carriage that would pull them
close to the castle. Virion stared at the thing with all the sickening wish that he could simply
walk. He had no desire to upset his delicate stomach any further, but he persevered and groaned
in blissful relief when Kiara presented him with some herbal candies upon entering the carriage.
The flavor settled his stomach, and he sighed in relief. And from the looks of it, Sima enjoyed
the dark landscape and surroundings as much as Virion had come to. His wide eyes and unending
questions made Kiara laugh, and she took to the little one so well. “I think he needs a tutor, too.”
“I can read,” Sima said, as if that were all he needed.
“Yes, but can you do maths? Do you know your thalms and spellwork?” She raised a brow
and Sima twisted his little lips.
“But I’m omega.”
“Precisely why you need to be better. Alphas are brutish things that need someone with a
keener mind to handle them.” She winked at Nemiah, who rolled his eyes.
 “Mother is seldom wrong, but I feel like omegas should learn to spite their alphas. Goddess
knows Virion is far more entertaining than most since he’s so educated.” Nemiah offered Virion
that sweet half smirk that made his cock twitch. Usually. The sway of the carriage turned his
stomach again over the strong flavor of the candy.
Sima’s face blossomed into a bright smile. “I’m allowed to go to school with the betas?”
“I mean, I suppose if you wanted to, but I was thinking a private tutor, if not under my
instruction or at Virion’s side learning for a little while. Virion is an excellent mage, mastered
wordless magic and all.” Kiara had Sima’s full attention. “And I assume Alluin made good on his
end of the bargains?”
Nemiah nodded. “Plus some, considering things.”
Kiara’s sweet smile held a hint of predatory fierceness in it as she nodded. “Well, I’ll have
no problem getting off here.” She knocked on the carriage door. “Spending a little extra gold
today will suit me. Sima? Would you like to get some more fitting clothes for the palace?”
The little boy’s eyes went wide, and he nodded.
The carriage slowed and Kiara disembarked with the boy. “Good. I’ll put some silver in your
pocket in case you see some treats you like.”
“A whole silver!” He gasped sweetly and chased after her heels.
“Alone at last?” Nemiah turned his head to Virion the moment the door closed. “We have a
few minutes before we—”
“No. I need to settle down. I want a cup of hot tea and some time without the world rushing
about me before I even think about sucking your cock.” Virion waved a hand as he marched in as
if he owned the place. Which, in a way, he did. As a vital piece to Nemiah’s future, and thus the
shape of the kingdom, he had his rights, too. Nemiah had told him so.
“Sucking my cock? What happened to us both having fun?” Nemiah nudged into Virion’s
backside, prodding him into moving. He stumbled and batted Nemiah away with a laugh.
“I dunno. I got mine on the way over. And I haven’t had the stomach to suck cock in a while,
so I figured…” Virion waved his hand about airily.
“Well, far be it from me to complain, sweet Sugarmoth.” Nemiah leaned in to nibble at his
neck and chuckle darkly. “But I will have you bent over my bed by nightfall.”
Virion hissed something between a warning and a noise of delight as they made their way to
their quarters. Nemiah did things to him. Emotionally. Physically. Sexually.
 Maybe the nap could wait… When they approached his bedroom, Virion pushed up on his
toes and kissed Nemiah, dragging out a somewhat feral groan of pleasure. “Come. Perhaps I
need to be tucked in for my nap.”
Nemiah chuckled as he nipped Virion’s lower lip, those dark eyes flaring, the blue irises
nearly aglow. “Don’t tease me. If you keep giving me that look, I won’t be able to stop until
we’re both spent.”
“I bet I can have you coming in my hand in three minutes, husband.” Virion’s cheeks
warmed as they opened the bedroom door and forged in, pawing at one another’s clothing in
desperation before a soft Ahem caught their attention.
“If he’s coming, I’m going.” Blush sniffed indignantly and floated off. “But it is nice to see
you’re home.”
“Same. Ivy, don’t be rude. Come. We’re not wanted. They can say hello after they’ve got the
stench of travel off them.” Artemis floated off and Virion buried his face in Nemiah’s chest, his
burgeoning erection flagging.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Virion said, sighing in resignation.
“Mood killed?” Nemiah raised one of those unfairly sharp and beautiful brows at him.
“The mood has been murdered. We’ll hold a vigil for it come nightfall. Pray thee, goddess,
guide my fragile erection into the next world.”
Nemiah snorted, that cool, sexy exterior as wasted as the erection he’d sported. “We could
just let me have my way with you until the flag has risen once more?”
A stifled giggle from the hallway made shame burn fiercely across Virion’s cheeks.
“You three are the worst!” Nemiah slammed his fist into the door with a warning strike that
made Virion jump and the nymphs flee.
“They mean well, I’m certain.”
“They’re mischievous. They mean whatever they like,” Nemiah said, turning his attention
back to Virion. “But if they insist on dropping eaves, I’ll insist upon seeing how loud I can make
my mate cry out in ecstasy.”
Virion opened his mouth to say something, but Nemiah had rekindled his mood far faster
and worked to tug the ties and buttons of Virion’s outfit. Wasting no time in deciding otherwise,
Virion reciprocated, pulling at Nemiah’s clothing, the uptight brocade and leathers worn
ceremonially, what they’d not bother to change from after the sun’s ceremony that morning.
 Bare skin touched bared skin within the span of a few breaths. Their hungry mouths sought
one another out and Nemiah hoisted Virion’s thighs to his hips. Pleasure dissolved control as he
let his horns and wings flow free. The swell of Virion’s belly pressed into the gentle sculpt of
Nemiah’s, not uncomfortable, but soon it could be. “I’ll fly with you one day, my love.”
Nemiah stole his mouth again, lips locking. Their tongues glided against one another, and
Nemiah’s cock nudged Virion’s bare ass cheek. A single sock hung from one of his feet, unshed
in their haste.
“You can send me to the stars with your breath alone. Your words bring cool relief and your
skin brings me all the warmth I could never take from the sun.” Virion shuddered through the
contact and reveled in his mate’s display.
“You’ve a beautiful mind for words as well as thalmic science.” Nemiah sank into their bed,
knees first, tilting Virion almost delicately to the covers. “Will you deny me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Virion groaned when Nemiah’s wings spread out, shielding him
from all the world and light. The silhouette of his mate a dark shadow between him and
responsibility. Delicate fingers sank over his hip and into the tender flesh of his uppermost inner
thigh. Once he found Virion’s hole, he trailed his fingers home to gently open him. It’d been too
long since he’d taken his mate’s cock.
Little noises of pleasure and pain escaped Virion’s lips so helplessly. Where with other
lovers he’d been skilled at keeping silent, with Nemiah, he was unable to contain every single
noise and whimper.
Nemiah spoke, voice full of gravel and desire, “I love watching you come undone.”
Such blatant desperation reflected from Nemiah’s eyes, his face a portrait of sinful lust.
Every time with them held memories of his heat, that crippling want that burned its way through
him. Virion only had moments to revel in his fingers before Nemiah’s grip changed. A moment
of emptiness shrouded his bliss until he thrust forward, guiding his cock into Virion’s depths.
He slid in far more gently than usual, his hand rolling around Virion’s hip to scoop down
and bear his weight. Bracing for more force left Virion stiff for a few moments before he relaxed
into his husband’s hold. “You’re so tight for me.”
“Not for long,” Virion chuckled but received a shush in response.
“The healer has spoken to us many times. You’ll recover in time, and your body may
change, but I’ll love you no matter what. And if I do not, the goddess may strike me down.”
Nemiah kissed Virion with the sweetest press of lips, gentle and reassuring. Their noses brushed
and his hips moved, rocking into Virion, seeking not carnal absolution but the wholeness they
felt together. Pure bliss coursed through Virion, their thalmic power entwining with one another,
caressing their souls. From the core of their beings, their hearts, and breath, their magic brought
them more pleasure than anything else.
Nemiah hissed first, his knot making Virion thrash for a jolt before shuddering, that pleasure
radiating not down his spine to his cock but from his heart to his mind. Together, they came,
Virion’s sac tightening, slick flowing. Nemiah braced himself with a shudder, and hot pulses of
thick cum basted him inside, as if promising him many more children to come.
Warm, content, and tired from their day’s travels, Virion closed his eyes and let Nemiah
have his way with soft kisses until they cuddled beneath the blankets. “You smell amazing.”
Virion nosed along Nemiah’s neck.
“I smell like you.” Nemiah laughed and snuggled in. “Let’s bathe after a nap.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
 Chapter Twenty-Two
Nemiah

Virion hovered in place in the lab, rolling from one foot to the other, his hips swaying as he
read over research notes they’d been debating over for days.
Nemiah thought that blacksteel was sufficient to act as wire, but he had concerns with the
conductivity and impurities. Not wanting to argue, he let Virion do his thing. He ordinarily
would have solved something like that in a few hours, but Nemiah bit his tongue when it came to
the scatterbrained mess his mate had become as their child grew, filling out his abdomen in a
round swell that grew lower in his hips by the day. Concerningly low.
Hand resting atop his belly, he frowned and glanced up. “I don’t think it’s about the
impurities at all. Blacksteel is fragile at best with impurities, so breakage is a concern before
conductivity…”
Nemiah puzzled over the comment, mind whipping from his mate to the statement. “What if
we tried a blend? There are more expensive metals that conduct thalm bett—”
“What’s the melting point of salicate?” Virion popped his head up, eyes wide.
“About thirty degrees over that of blacksteel.”
“See if we can amalgamate that and if it retains any of the original elasticity and pliability.”
Virion wrote furious notes, bent over his desk, one hand tensed over the dome of his stomach.
“Sugarmoth, my love. Why don’t we go rest? You’ve slept poorly and you’re obsessing, I’m
afraid.” Nemiah reached for Virion’s hand, placing his palm over his writing wrist purposefully.
Virion finished a few more words before dropping his pen into the holder and capping the
inkwell. “I don’t like being patronized, brute.”
Nemiah opened his mouth to rebuke when Virion twisted his fingers in the air, thalmic
energy dancing over them. With a quick flick, he prodded Nemiah’s nose and, against his will,
his horns unglamoured with an uncomfortable tingle of his scalp.
Nemiah shook the sensation away and frowned. “Now see here, petulant omega. Maybe you
need to be patronized if you’re going to behave so churlishly.” He schooled his expression to a
mischievous smile, scooping Virion into a rough grope around his upper waist, hand supporting
his belly.
 Virion laughed and struggled, huffing as Nemiah kissed at his neck and ear, nibbling
playfully. “Should I quarantine you to our bedchambers?”
“You’d have a foul time trying to keep me stilled.”
“I could manage to fuck you limp for a while. Would be hard work, but I could keep you
bedbound until you birth.” Nemiah nipped his neck playfully, unable to keep his cock from
hardening to a ridge of interest in his breeches. He wanted but he’d never push Virion, not in his
delicate condition and constant exhaustion.
Virion hummed with pleasure at the suggestion, but didn’t grind back into him as he
normally did when propositioned.
Nemiah reached down and scooped a hand below his mate’s belly, reaching for his sinfully
flaccid groin. Frowning, he ceased his ministrations. “Are my advances unwanted? We can go
get a snack and cuddle instead. I’d hate to trouble you.”
Virion shook his head and sighed. “No. I have to use the Telecon and then we can go to the
bedchambers. Would you be a dear and get Nilla for us?”
Nemiah’s heart fluttered. “Are you in pain?”
Virion pulled Nemiah’s hand back to his belly and instead of the ovoid softness, his belly
trembled, taut and still. “I think our little one is at least giving us polite warning.”
“Understood. I’ll get Nilla, and what was your verdict on Mother and the girls?” Nemiah
hesitated, pulling away, but Virion was too independent. He separated himself and released a
slow, trembling breath.
“They can be in the room but drop the curtains. If any one of them tries to peek at the goings
on, they’re to leave, no questions asked.” Virion’s pink eyes darkened slightly at his threat,
pupils drawing into pinpricks of threat.
“Understood. That’s far better than they’d thought.” Nemiah bowed his head and strode off
right as Virion leaned over the control panel and spun the wheel of the connection node to
Liaberos, where a light would flicker and harsh chimes would alert the attendant nearest.
Nemiah broke into a light jog, caught between propriety and excitement, unease at leaving
his mate alone.
“King Nemi—” His page, Reimun, caught him in a light jog, Sima scampering up behind
him, rather adorable in his tailored outfit, notebook in hand. A charcoal pencil sat neatly tucked
over an ear, ready for any notes to take. His writing skills were atrocious but improving, not that
Nemiah would say a word to discourage the poor boy.
“Can you find my mother, please? Have her to my chambers and see if the nymphs would
join her.” Nemiah glanced down the hall.
“Perhaps it would be best you found your mother and the ladies if Virion needs her, as I
think. I’ll find the healer.” The page offered a polite cough.
“Oh no! Lady Nilla is at the guardhouse today. I can go get her on my own!” Sima
smartened up and beamed, determination in his fierce little pale eyes.
“Good thinking!” Nemiah stopped and patted the boy’s shoulder before he hastily shrugged
his jacket off, handed it to his page, and let his little omega wings flutter free. His little curled
horns stood straight, the tips pointed back as he beamed.
“Sima! No. Do no—” Reimun reached a hand out and Sima jogged into a nearby office,
pushed the window open, and leaped, his wings carrying him off at a buzzing pace. With a harsh
gasp, his beta page paled and gripped his chest at the sight. “Mother Goddess…”
“He knows what he’s doing, Reimun. I’ve taken him flying several times, and he’s good at it
already.”
“But it still scares the goddess out of me!” Reimun shook his head and huffed. “He just
jumps from windows.”
“I’ll speak with him about decorum later. Thank you. Please see the staff is made aware not
to bother us and for the kitchen to send some carafes of water to the bedchambers.” Nemiah
bowed his head and changed course, going for his mother and Virion’s office.
Probably from the sound of his metal claspings on his outfit or the clip of his smart boots,
his mother alerted to his presence and stepped outside her office door, brows lifted. “Am I a
grandmother?”
“Not yet. He’s agreed to allow you and the nymphs into the bedchamber on the agreement
we keep the canopy curtains drawn and if anyone violates his privacy, he gets to kick everyone
out.” Nemiah cleared his throat.
“More than fair. I’d not want my mother-in-law staring up my skirts.” She nodded sharply
and followed Nemiah, holding the hems of her skirts as they swung by Virion’s dressing room,
where he’d once slept before joining Nemiah’s chambers. The nymphs swept up to him, pearly
pale eyes full of curiosity.
 “Need I even tell you, or do your ears reach that far?” Nemiah beckoned them.
“Vir has been testy for a day and a half now. It’s been coming,” Artemis said, sniffing
imperiously. “And why are you here playing messenger? Go be by his side!”
Nemiah stumbled as he turned and made his way toward their bedchambers, meeting Virion
in the doorway, leaned against the frame.
“And this is our job.” Carefully, Clover assisted Virion into their chambers, shutting the door
for privacy. Nemiah allowed them that moment of space to get Virion dressed. He had to feel
vulnerable, especially considering that he felt ashamed to let Nemiah look at his body. He
covered himself in gowns and kept his tunic on when they made love, lamenting the way his
clothes fit, even the more masculine things becoming feminine as his pregnancy progressed.
Nemiah leaned against the hallway’s wall and took a deep breath, glancing about as his
mother rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey. You’ll do fine. I promise.” She patted his cheek affectionately and took him into her
arms for a long hug, like she did when he was small. When his father forbade her to coddle
Nemiah, she merely held a cold face before him and others and lavished Nemiah with praise and
love when nobody could see, aided by the nymphs when possible. On more than one occasion,
they’d entertained the king, while Kiara tended Nemiah’s hurt feelings.
When the door finally opened, Nemiah peered in to find Virion in his nightshirt, padded with
the birthing bedclothes they’d reserved. The curtains had yet to be drawn, but Nemiah would pull
them together soon enough, as he wanted to do right then, to slide into bed next to him, hold his
hand, and kiss all the pain away.
He tried to do just that, sidling onto the bed just in time for Sima to come running in with the
healer at his heels, her face twisted into slight frustration. “If he’s not crying out, I told you it
wasn’t likely to be urgent.” Nilla glared at Nemiah and Virion in turn before straightening her
clothes.
She huffed and approached the bed, giving Nemiah a lingering glare before pulling back
Virion’s blanket to prod at his belly in a few strategic places, each one making Virion grumble in
pain. “I put it off as long as I felt comfortable, Nilla.”
The healer nodded, her sharp tongue dulled by whatever she felt before she waved for Sima
to leave. The young boy stood in place and glanced about, unsure of where to go before Virion
gave him a smile. “Clover, Ivy? Could one of you make sure Sima finds his way back to Reimun
in a moment?” He waved Sima over to his bedside and gave the little one a ruffle to his head.
“I saw a cow have a baby once. It was loud.” Sima’s eyes went wide.
“Well, I’m unsure of how similar cows are to omegas, but you may be in my position one
day. It will hurt, and I may cry and I may bleed.” Virion stroked over the trembling child’s head
again as tears glistened in his eyes. “But that’s normal. That is what is supposed to happen. And I
promise that when our little one comes, you may hold them and hear their name before all the
kingdom does, hmm?”
Sima’s sadness went away in a blink, and he grinned in excitement. “You promise?”
“I promise. And tell Reimun to bring the family record in. You’re going to help him record
the birth.”
Sima gasped in delight and took Ivy’s hand as she ushered him out, smiling endearingly as
he babbled excitedly about seeing the baby’s name written for the first time.
Once the boy got a bit down the hall, Virion hissed in pain and writhed through a few
breaths. “Hopefully, he doesn’t try to sneak back in. Don’t want to scare the little one.” Virion bit
his lower lip, his voice cracking as he spoke.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He understands the way of things,” Nilla said, helping Nemiah draw
the curtains and pull the blankets back, unsurprised to find a growing pool of wetness in the
towels he was seated upon.
 Chapter Twenty-Three
Virion

It was normal to be embarrassed to be wet in the presence of family, but this variety of wet
signified a whole new loss of autonomy and privacy, one that even strangers felt privilege to.
Laying back, the healer, Nilla, attempted to shoo Nemiah off to wait with his mother.
“I’ll be right here.” Nemiah glared at her and earned a scathing glance back.
“Do you not trust me?”
“I trust you, but I want to be here and witness to this.” Nemiah leaned down to kiss Virion’s
temple and hold his hand. “Nobody deserves to be alone during this.”
“Thank you.” Virion squeezed his mate’s hand, grateful for Nemiah’s strange propriety.
Virion’s father had never once sat in on a birth for any of his children, and from what everyone
had told him, Behran didn’t sit in on Nemiah’s birth, either. He merely waited outside the room
and took the child as soon as he was severed from his pater. The omega that bore him had chosen
to leave the kingdom, and Kiara had the babe thrust into her arms that night, congratulating her
on becoming a mother. And in a way, it had been a kindness to spare the omega and to give Kiara
a child, finally. He had every right to turn Kiara away, back to her homeland, but he chose to give
her a child. Perhaps there was some degree of kindness in him.
The thought passed in a flicker as the squeezing pain in his belly progressed. The domed
surface hardened in a ripple and, throwing his head back, he felt the uncomfortable clack of his
horns against the headboard, unable to contain them. Nemiah supported his head to stop the
scraping and whispered sweet nothings into his ear as the pain rippled through him, bringing
with it a fresh gush of birthing waters.
“I love you,” Nemiah said, his lips brushing the shell of Virion’s ear.
“You better, because I’d hate to be doing this for someone that hated me.” Virion couldn’t
muster a laugh through the pain.
Uncomfortable coldness made his backside twitch and his genitals shrink. Not that omegas
had much sac to begin with.
 When water arrived to the room and boiled under a spell’s flicker, the nymphs returned, a
sliver of their ethereal color briefly visible through a part in the curtains. As curious as they were,
they spared him their attention, seeking out the direction of Kiara’s quiet whispers.
Fingers invaded his hole without warning, the healer pressing one of his legs up. Virion
bleated in shock but didn’t rebuke her. She likely warned him, but his focus seemed so distant.
“You timed it right, my prince.” Her praise, ultimately, meant little as another wave of the
pain swept through. It wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined, just ramping up from the odd cramping
he’d had since the night before. The preparation he’d taken, reading through old medical
manuscripts on how to center himself in his pain had paid off. The Drashil allowing omegas to
become healers and scholars had made so much more information available to him.
The contraction that wracked him ebbed, and in the lull, he dimly registered Nemiah’s
whispering pleas to the goddess for his health and pain. A nearby lantern flickered with blue
flame as a reassurance that she, too, was there to witness this new life. The flicker gave Virion
assurance as well.
“Push! Bear down, Virion.” The healer’s urging made Virion cringe as he bore down against
a growing, violating force. His inner organs seemed to shift and move as he bore down and found
Nemiah bracing his horns to help him bear forward and grasp his knees.
“I hate this! Stop!” Virion snarled as he wrenched free of their grasp and flailed in bed,
much to their protests. On all fours, Virion released a haggard breath and bore down, pushing
that violating pain down lower, stretching his hole far beyond anything he’d ever taken before.
The sting and burn settled, making itself at home in Virion’s body.
He pushed again, bearing through a contraction as the healer tried to coax him to lie once
more.
“Fuck, no! That position is outdated, inconducive to my anatomy, and if I’m going to rip my
asshole, I’d rather do it on my own terms!” Virion snarled as he pushed and the healer put up a
weak protest about her not being able to see things as well.
“Your ease of viewing is less important to me than my own safety and comfort.” Virion
snagged Nemiah’s offered hand and squeezed until he hissed and a bleat of surprise confirmed
his suspicion. Their child crowned.
 With fierce, snarling breaths, Virion bore down through another contraction then another, his
energy wavering as he screamed at the apex of the head pushing free, a shoulder, and the rest of
them in this violating, empty spill that left him shivering and weeping.
It took a few moments, Nemiah parting from him and the healer busying herself. The long
silence grew ominous until a barking cry rang out, wrenching free of unwilling lungs.
Nemiah broke down into shaking sobs as he moved over the bed, arms cradling a bundle
while the healer worked Virion over. Task completed, Virion fell to his side and let her clean and
bandage him.
“It’s a boy,” Nemiah said, tilting the crying bundle into Virion’s arms. Ashen skin, a pale
dusk child stretched out with curled fingers, pale lips forming a gaping O of displeasure. A
dusting of silvery light hair stuck up at all odd angles.
Into his arms the child settled, quieting against his warmth.
“Ahran,” Virion whispered, glancing up to meet Nemiah’s eyes. A continuation of his
father’s name, but not a repeat of it. It signified meaning, power, and command, with none of his
father’s venom left in it. “What if he’s omega?”
The odds of an alpha omega pair producing a beta were low, so the likelihood of the child
being omega or alpha was near that of a flipped coin, with a beta being a coin landing on its side.
“Then he’s omega, and he’ll be king, with his own consort.” Nemiah took the child from
him and opened the curtains when all had been cleaned and the healer excused herself.
Alluin arrived within the hour of the child’s birth, marching through the halls with minimal
guard as he entered their chambers to pay witness to the child that Kiara had been reluctant to
release between bouts with the excited nymphs that dazzled the infant into opening his wide
eyes. White sclera gave way to silvery pale irises.
Nemiah took over, addressing the king as Virion fought the urge to fall asleep after letting
the child feed at his chest, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable. The urge won out, but he
found himself roused as a cool hand wrapped around his own and squeezed in an unfamiliar way.
Virion peered up and locked eyes with his father, his face a mask of uncertainty. Perhaps his
emotions were genuine, perhaps calculated, but he gave Virion a slight nod. “The boy’s
beautiful. You did well.”
Virion offered Alluin a half smile and a nod. “Of course he’s beautiful. He takes after me.”
 Alluin stifled a laugh and shook his head before Kiara saw to putting the babe into his
cradle.
As promised, Sima came in with Nemiah’s page and recorded the birth, letting Sima write
the date in with careful numbers. His poor hand trembled, and the numbers came out a little
crooked, but legible all the same.
“Heal up nice and strong, Virion, my dear. I want another grandbaby as soon as possible.”
Kiara laughed and offered a short hug to Artemis, a warmer gesture than she’d given the nymphs
previously.
Virion glared at her and made a rude hand gesture that she reciprocated with a genial laugh
before seeing herself out, muttering something about seeing where her son had wandered off to
with Alluin.
With their little one taking a nap, Virion closed his eyes, relishing what sleep he could get.
 Epilogue
Nemiah

King Alluin walked with Nemiah, head held high, as they paced the halls toward his
laboratory. He’d expressed interest in seeing it and having a private conversation. A matter
needed to be discussed, and he felt that Nemiah was the perfect male to approach.
Nemiah doubted whatever it was would be worth leaving his mate and child so soon, but
whatever it took to keep peace and appease the source of his newly found finances.
“I have a matter I need handled.” Alluin’s face soured as he turned his gaze toward Nemiah.
“Our summer castle at the border of Croatens has been raided. As you know, we do not
participate in war and do not have those sorts of faculties.”
“Raided by whom?” Nemiah detested what Alluin was proposing, but he decided to hear
him out.
“A dusk kingdom much like Tibitz of your southern border, but they’re goddessless,
forsaken by both. They took something that needs to be returned.” King Alluin frowned at his
feet.
“I’d ask what you consider to be more important than your son in recovery from your first
grandson, but your priorities have seemed low in regard to Virion unless the goddess herself
spoke.” Nemiah took a seat at his desk and crossed his legs, offering a dusty stool, usually
Virion’s, to him instead.
“It’s no secret that my wife died in childbirth.” King Alluin sat and primly folded his hands
in his lap. “But I don’t speak much that the child born was a dusk child. Quite obviously, not my
own.” Alluin sighed. “The child survived, and I sent him to Croatens with a small retinue, a
nanny and the likes. After the whole situation with the…” Alluin waved his hand a bit. “With
Virion and the goddess.”
“Yes?” Nemiah raised a brow, liking Alluin a little less by the moment.
“I received word that the castle had been invaded and they took the boy.” Alluin fidgeted
anxiously, as uneasy as he’d been when Virion returned to bless the springs. “And when they
went to investigate, it was not the conditions I was paying to keep the child under. And now I’m
afraid that he’s missing.”
 Nemiah took a deep breath, curling his fingers tight. “For how long?”
Alluin hung his head and cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”
With a shuddering breath, Nemiah tilted his head back and closed his eyes. It was all he
could do not to lash out in rage. As a bastard child himself, he’d been made legitimate, and could
have easily been such a discarded creature.
“I’ll send a political party out first, see if we can bargain him. Any idea who has him?”
Nemiah clenched and unclenched his fists.
“None. Word from their king is that I should forget he exists and move on, but I cannot.”
Alluin’s face twisted in misery.
“And why is that?”
“The goddess has demanded it so.”
 About the Author

Lilo Quie is a purveyor of filth and fine filth accessories. She is also being forced to write in the third
person and detests writing biographies, even if the occasion does call for it, like now.

https://liloquie.net/