Chapter 3: PART I. The Greatest Gift Anyone Could Give

Trigger Warning(s): Mentions of incest, illness, death of a loved one

 

◆ VAMIR ◆

Azuries. Ossola, Capital City of Ilialana.

I stand in front of the mirror and look at my reflection. Slowly, I cast off the drab tunic of mourning and set it on the bedside chair. A shiver races over the exposed skin on my arms and legs, raising fine hairs in its wake. Summer is on its way to take the cold chill out of the final breaths of Spring.

I close my eyes and heave a deep sigh as I wrap my arms across my chest. It has been a full lunar cycle since the death of my father, His Majesty King Beluar Ilialana. Today is the final day of mourning. Tomorrow, a new dawn awaits: My brother, Crown Prince Isarrel, is to ascend the throne!

But here come the predicament: I will not be here for it and Isarrel is on his deathbed.

The citizens of Ilialana had not seen their crown prince since a truce had been declared between the kingdom and House Khriskhana. After the border war, the Ilialani infantry, measly to begin with, returned home short of a thousand and five brave souls. Farmers and miners, fathers and sons, all lost to a senseless war declared upon by the tyrant king, Athar Khriskhana.

But the greatest loss of all was my father's life. The death of a king spells terror and low morale for its people, even more so for an ailing kingdom that, for many years, has faced crisis upon crisis- endless wars, years-long drought, famine, and a royal family that is quickly failing to secure its bloodline.

I, Vamir vus-Ilialana, second son of Beluar and prince regent to the throne, am the last highborn Omega in what was once a long and prestigious line of Alphas and Omegas. Today, our family is a remnant of a custom that has long been obsolete: A series of line-breeding between siblings and cousins in an effort to secure the purity of the bloodline. But for the last century, House Ilialana is marred by disease and deaths-one that could only be blamed on the revolting practice of inbreeding among blood kin.

Our forefathers have put an end to this abhorrent practice, but the blood sickness still flowed in the veins of my father and siblings. Two brothers have died before me, and another after me, one that ultimately led to the death of my consort-father, Corym wys-Ilialana. Blood poisoning, they say, as the babe had long been dead in my consort-father's womb.

I thought Isarrel would be different-an exclusion from the curse. But when my brother returned home with grave injuries that refuse to heal, I knew in my heart he had not been spared. Dark, purple bruises that continue to spread like wildfire, festering wounds and infection that eat away the flesh, and a shattered soul that no one-not even his beloved consort-can put back together. As he lies in bed, burning with fever that never subsides, I witness how each day that passes steals away his hope and strength, leaving behind a frail, despondent man resigned to his ill fate.

I wish we could keep up the façade a while longer, but war waits for no one and the kingdom yearns for its king. Yet I can see Death reflected in Isarrel's eyes. He will not last much longer.

I open my eyes with a soft gasp, hugging myself even more tightly as I find myself welling up in tears. I have not grieved enough for my father as much as I am grieving my brother's imminent death. From my reflection, the trapped look in my eyes says everything: It is all up to me now. The fate of House Ilialana lies in my hands.

I step closer to the mirror, hastily wiping away the tears that are threatening to fall. I have to be strong for this family. Dignity is all we have left.

I have always had confidence in myself, not so much with the arts and swordmastery, but in my physical appearance and upbringing. At an early age, I have attached a great deal of importance to the way I speak, to my body and countenance, with an acute dislike for feebleness and illness. My consort-father had always reminded me to be graceful yet bold; to observe the humility of silence, and to know when it's time to speak.

I am not hard-built like Isarrel, whose body was a mass of finely carved muscles and fat. Despite years of training with the sword and dagger, I have barely developed any muscles. As an Omega, I have natural predisposition to be lithe and long-limbed, with slow-growing body hair, and wider hips designed to accommodate childbirth. I have father's green and gold-flecked eyes and aquiline nose, but the rest favored my consort-father. I had missed out on his whisky eyes, but I had inherited the thin lips, the russet hair, and the pale, freckled skin.

And oh, the freckles! In the past lunar cycle, the constant exposure to the sun had produced a heavy smattering of freckles across my nose, cheeks, and shoulders. I knew how these long-bemoaned brown spots must look on me as they stood out in sharp contrast to my distressingly alabaster skin. What must Ettrian think of them? Would he think me grotesque? He had not seen me since father's funeral.

Ettrian... My future mate.

As I stood in front of the mirror, hands on my cheeks, I wonder what lies ahead of me in the coming days. I still could not fathom the idea of marrying someone I have known since I was a child-a man whom I treat more as a brother than a lover.

But he is not just any man. He is the Summer King, ruler of the Phosories, patriarch to one of the most powerful monarchies in all of the Glass Empire.

Ettrian Cardan. The only Alpha left who stands in the way of Athar Khriskhana's plans. The man who can save Ilialana from absolute ruin.

A soft rasp at the door startles and pulls me from my thoughts. Orrian, my trusted steward, opens the door and whisks into my bedchamber. A frown forms on his face at the sight of my still-naked form. Swiftly grabbing the scarlet-and-gold embellished tunic from the bed, he walks up to me and wraps the lavishly decorated garb around my shoulders. 

"Your Highness," Orrian says sharply, "the physician has just left. His Majesty is ready to see you now."

I grab a pair of leggings lying haphazardly on the floor, pulling them up as Orrian hastily brushes and pulls up my hair into a loose braid.

"Your Highness, have you fallen asleep?" he asks, failing to conceal the exasperation in his tone. "If you do not want me to dress His Highness, His Highness should have at least put on his tunic."

In spite of my steward's displeasure, a grin pulls at my lips. "You can drop the formalities, Orrian. We are alone."

Orrian's shoulders sag as he lets out a sharp sigh. "You've been daydreaming again. I can tell." I winced and let out a soft yelp as he tugs at my hair. "We are running late. King Cardan's royal entourage arrived an hour ago. They were told to wait in the courtyard."

My stomach flutters at the mention of his name. This is true. This is happening. I am about to be whisked away to marry a king!

Orrian grabs a bunch of sapphire-encrusted hairpins from the dresser, placing them between his teeth as he ties a red ribbon at the end of the braid, complementing my tunic. One by one, he jabs the pins into my hair, tucking a few stray wisps behind my ears before glancing down at my leggings with visible repulsion. "That thing does not match your tunic."

I roll my eyes as I square my shoulders and slip on the tunic, the fine fabric clinging to my torso before covering the leggings. And then, I grab my favorite coat from the wardrobe, a richly embroidered black damask with the coat-of-arms of House Ilialana woven on its chest.

I whirl around to face my steward, arms outstretched. "Does this solve your problem?"

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Orrian studies me from head to foot, shaking his head in silent dismay. But a moment later, a tired smile softens the harsh angles of his sleep-deprived face. "That will do. For now. You need to get changed on our final stop before reaching Cardan. You will need the very best clothes you have when you reunite with His Majesty! And, oh, before I forget-" He holds up a finger as he marches over to my wardrobe, retrieving a wooden jewelry box and setting it on my dresser. "For you, Your Highness."

I flip open the lid. Pillowed on the plush black velvet lay a heavy golden choker set with precious gemstones, sparkling diamonds and emeralds of the deepest green. At the center, a large teardrop-shaped sapphire sat framed by diamonds. Gently, I take out the choker out of its box, my mouth agape in yearning and awe.

An Omega's choker. But it's not just anyone's choker. It's my consort-father's, the one I always see in paintings. The very same choker he had worn on his wedding day.

"How... Where did you find this?"

This time, a warm smile curves my steward's face. "He saved this especially for you. His Majesty would have presented this to you himself, had he been here..."

Once again, my eyes smart with tears. "And it's been with me this whole time? Why haven't you told me?"

"That is not how surprises work, Your Highness." Orrian grins as he stands in front of me, palms up. "May I...?"

I smile as I dab the tears from my eyes. "Yes. Yes, please." I hand him the trinket, turn around, and lift my hair off my neck.

"I know that His Majesty was very strict with you, Your Highness. Even more so compared to the crown prince," Orrian says softly, looking at me from my reflection in the mirror. "You might have thought this unfair, but His Majesty's intentions were from a good place. He wanted you to know that you are not just some delicate Omega with a crown on his head. That you are not to be treated differently from the rest. You are an Ilialana-proud and true."

I find myself nodding meekly, wordlessly. A brief silence passes between us, and I think of a thousand things to say, but none of them seem right. As always, Orrian fills in the gap. "A week before His Majesty passed, he asked me to give this you," he confesses, leaning forward as he secures the choker around my neck. "I told him he should give it you himself. But... I surmised His Majesty knew he...he would not be able to-" He chokes up, for a moment unable to continue. "But here it is now. With you." He closes the clasp with a hard click and turns me to face him. "Do not forget, you can only take this off on your first estrus*, with your Alpha."

I nod somberly, looking into Orrian's eyes as I lay a finger on the pendant hanging from the chain. Sapphire. The symbolic gemstone of House Ilialana.

"They say that an Alpha's Mark is the best gift one could ever grant to his mate. But it is nothing. Nothing compared to this-" He places a hand against my chest, right over my heart. "This is the greatest gift anyone could ever give."

"Orrian, I-"

"Your Highness," my steward cuts me off, "at this point, I could summon no words, no platitudes. It's far too late to call off the wedding. But I know you will never do it. King Cardan-Ettrian-I know he will be good to you. For you. I have always seen the kindness in His Majesty. He loves you. And one day, you will learn to love him, too. But until then, guard your heart. Everything you do flows from it."

I nod, taking Orrian's hands and squeezing them tightly. "I hear you, Orrian. Thank you. I...I feel safe and completely myself when I'm with Ettrian. You know that." I pinch my lips together and drop my gaze to the floor. "I...I may not love him now, but I will learn to. He's not so hard to love now, is he?"

Orrian chuckles as he gives my hands a light squeeze before letting them go. "No, I should hope not. His Majesty adores you. He would give you the moon if you ask him to!" He tips my chin up before grabbing my coat and heading to the door.

I make a beeline for the nearest pair of boots I could get my hands on-fur-lined brown leather, edged with fox fur-and hastily shove my bare beet into them. Of course, Orrian scrunches his nose in disapproval, but simply moves on. "Now, we mustn't keep the crown prince waiting, Your Highness. We only have a few minutes to spare."

I grab the door handle, almost reluctant to leave now. I look over my shoulder, giving my bedchamber one last, longing look. How I wish I could take refuge in the safe confines of this room forever!

Would it be possible to have that peaceful, carefree life again? I can only dream. But that is the problem with dreams. For when I wake up and reality sets in, they are gone.

It is final. My new life begins in Cardan, among the Phosories.

I am Vamir vus-Ilialana, second son of Beluar, prince regent to the throne, and the last remaining highborn Omega of House Ilialana.

In five days, I will be known to the world as King Ettrian Cardan's mate, the Summer Consort.

◆ ◆ ◆

 

Glossary of Terms:

Azuries - official name of the Sapphire Court of House Ilialana

Phosories - official name of the Summer Court of House Cardan

Estrus - an Omega's heat cycle

'vus-' - prefix added to the family name of a second son or prince regent

'wys-' - prefix added to the family name of a king or emperor's consort

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