Shadows Of Desire
Scorn

As Rowan wandered aimlessly down the darkened corridor of the third floor of the palace he thought to himself, what am I doing with my life?

Each day presented itself to him as one dreary, monotonous, day after the other. Nothing changed. At least when he’d had lessons with his tutor there was some break in the dullness of his daily routine. Now though, with his studies at an end, and no clear path for his future, he was left feeling empty.

University would have been the obvious next step if he’d been born the alpha male that his father wanted but as an omega, his father didn’t feel that further education was needed. Rowan could never rule after all. Would never hold office or achieve high ranks in, well...anything. In his father’s eyes, he was useless. There was no place for him at court, his future uncertain, and as he grew older he had less hope of ever becoming more than just a shadow haunting the halls of his father’s castle, invisible to all.

Rowan sighed as he leaned against the brick wall and stared out the window at the world below. A world that he would never be a part of. For a brief moment he thought of climbing into the window and just letting himself fall to the stone path below. He pictured himself laying there, his head split open as blood and brains stained the cobblestones. Without proper treatment he would surely die. Slowly and painfully, but it would happen. His refusal to drink blood would cause his healing to slow, aiding in his demise.

Would his father care? Would he try to save him, or just let him die? Glad to finally be rid of him? He assumed the latter. No. He thought. I won’t end my life today. Why do the old man any favors?

Still, the thought of freedom clung to him, just not freedom in death. He could jump from the window he supposed. Land on his feet like a cat and then run. Run as far as his legs would carry him. Not that he expected that he could outrun the guard mind you, but the chase would be thrilling nonetheless. He smiled thinking of the look of fury that would no doubt cross the King’s features if Rowan were to attempt such a thing.

He might make it to the mountains before he was caught. He’d never been to the mountains but had heard of their beauty. Or, he could go east and run to Night-Port, near the sea. He could hide there for certain, maybe get a job as a fish monger or better yet, a sailor. Yes, he could do that. Months on a ship at sea. His father would never replace him then. It would also give him a chance to see the world, explore new lands, maybe even replace love.

Rowan leaned out the window and closed his eyes. A gentle breeze blew through his hair, lifting it off his shoulders and he imagined it was the breeze from the sea, cool and uplifting. He imagined the feel of the salty sea water hitting his face and the way the light of a full moon would look, spanned out over black waters. That was the life he dreamed of. A life of travel, never resting his head in the same place twice, and far enough away from his father’s suffocating hold that he would never again feel the lonely pang of isolation.

Rowan was brought out of his thoughts as he heard a frightened gasp from below. He opened his eyes to see two young servant girls, probably returning from the market, staring up at him with alarmed looks on their faces. Rowan quickly pulled himself back inside, concealing himself once again within the castles many shadows. The poor girls probably thought he was going to fall, or jump, and there was no use frightening them further.

Rowan scuffed the toe of his boot along the wall as he reluctantly continued down the hall to the stairwell at the end. He was dragging his feet he knew but he had no interest in reaching his destination any time soon. It wasn’t often that he was invited (or commanded) to join the royal family for the midday meal and he was a little concerned about why his father had extended this invitation in the first place. It wasn’t as if the old man actually wanted him there.

There had to be some sinister reason for it. The King wasn’t known for his kindness. Especially not to Rowan. He didn’t suspect that he was in any trouble either though. His father certainly wouldn’t reprimand him in public, would he? No, he normally pulled him into his private chambers to berate him. So, he wondered, what occasion could it be that should require the young Prince’s presence? Rowan shrugged. The only way to know was to show up. Not that he had any choice in the matter. Refusing the King would land him in the stocks or worse.

Rowan stopped and gaped, shocked, as he entered the King’s private dining hall. The King was already seated at the head of the table, glaring angrily at Rowan. To his right was the Lady Caroline and across from her, the Lady Emilia. Both, he had expected, as they always took meals with the King but the one he had not expected was the gentlemen seated next to Emilia, Lord Killian Thorn.

Lord Thorn rose at once as Rowan entered the room and gave an elegant bow. The King as well as the two ladies remained seated. Lady Caroline raised an eyebrow in irritation at seeing the Prince, then she turned her head and gently sipped at her wine.

“My Prince.” Lord Killian smiled charmingly at Rowan. “What a pleasure it is to see you again, your majesty.”

Rowan gave the man a curt nod. “Lord Killian.” He said, coldly.

“How nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.” The King scowled.

Rowan bowed. “My apologies, Sire. I was delayed in the third floor corridor.”

The King huffed. “So I’ve heard. Thought to throw yourself from the window did you? Foolish child. Think of the mess you would have made for the groundsman to clean up.”

Rowan pursed his lips. “Not at all, Sire. I merely contemplated turning myself into a bat and flying away.”

Emilia nearly spit her wine out at that though the King did not appear amused. “Well, don’t stand on ceremony.” The King frowned, speaking in sarcastic tones. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to the empty seat next to Lady Caroline.

Rowan took the cue as it was intended and moved to seat himself just as a young servant boy hurried to pull his chair out for him. Lord Killian sat as Rowan sat, smiling across the table at him.

“If you figure out that little trick,” He said, reaching for his wine glass, “Turning into a bat I mean, please share it with me. I’d love to try that one myself.”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously then nodded with a slight smirk. “Of course, My Lord. Unfortunately, my father has taught me not to dwell on human fairy tales but, stranger things have happened.”

“Indeed they have.” Lord Killian grinned wickedly as he brought the goblet of wine to his lips.

“So, Lord Killian, how does the Duke fair these days?” Lady Caroline asked, trying to steer the conversation her way and ignoring Rowan all together.

“He’s been better.” Lord Killian admitted. “Handling disputes over land keeps him busy most days and of course there’s the issue with the outlanders. We’re seeing more and more of their encampments popping up around the outskirts of Grayholm. At first it wasn’t much of an issue but lately their numbers have been increasing and it’s caused some concern.”

“What does his grace plan to do about it?” Lady Caroline asked. She leaned in as though taking much interest in Lord Killian’s troubles back home though Rowan imagined it was all for show. The Lady cared little for anything or anyone other than herself.

“Well, of course taxing them does no good. Most are exiles and have little in the way of coin.” He considered his options carefully in dealing with the problem. A servant laid a plate of food before him and Killian picked up his fork, stabbing it, almost violently, into a slice of pork. “I say we burn them all out but father wants to take a more diplomatic approach to it though I see no good coming from that.”

The King scoffed. “A true diplomat, the Duke, and a fool. His soft hearted ways have never proved fruitful and they earn him no favors with me. I say take a small regiment of your strongest men and wipe out the lot of them. Let it be known that trespassers on your land will be met with the swift end of a sharp sword.”

“A most shrewd plan, Sire. His majesty always gives such sage advice.” Lord Killian raised his glass in praise.

“Forgive me, My Lord.” All eyes suddenly turned to Rowan as he spoke, his voice guarded and light. “Might it not be more prudent to first try and communicate with the outlanders? Send an emissary out to speak with them. It’s possible they have no where else to go and have taken up residence out of desperation. I’m sure a reasonable agreement could be made with them.”

“Interesting.” Lord Killian smiled and leaned forward, his chin propped on his hand as he listened to Rowan. “What sort of agreement do you suppose could be made?”

Rowan shrugged some. “Well, I have heard that you have large amounts of untamed land in Grayholm. Perhaps, if you granted them use of that land they could build a settlement there and farm the land for you. You could tax them after the harvest and not only would you be putting that land to good use but also make a profit as well.”

Lord Killian laughed a triumphant laugh. “Why, Sire. The young Prince is not only a true beauty but has brains as well. What a studious omega. He’ll make some lucky man a very agreeable mate someday.”

The King frowned. “My foolhardy son has not the slightest idea of what it takes to rule a provenance. As such, he should learn to keep his opinions on such matters to himself and worry only about what is important for him.”

Rowan dropped his fork with a loud clank as it hit his plate and starred daggers at his father. “And what is it that is most important for me?” He asked, obstinately.

“Finding a suitable mate and keeping him well sated in the bedroom.” The King glared angrily at his son. “Everyone knows the only thing an omega is good for is what’s between his legs. All you need to worry your pretty head about is learning how to a please a man in bed. Leave the governing of land to the real men.”

Lady Caroline smirked seeing the rage evident on Rowan’s face as the Prince stood from his seat and threw his napkin on the table. “I believe I’ve lost my appetite.” He scowled, turning to leave.

“You will leave this table when I dismiss you and not a moment before.” The King rose and glared at him. “Is that understood?” He asked, stressing each word as he spoke.

Slowly and with ire, Rowan lowered himself back into his seat. “Yes, father.” He hissed, using the familial term as a means to show disrespect. “I understand.”

“Good.” The King snapped as he sat back down. “Now sit there and keep your mouth shut.”

Rowan folded his arms over his chest and glared at the King though he did as he was ordered and remained silent.

“Such an undisciplined child.” Lady Caroline said, dabbing her napkin at her lips. “I know not how his majesty tolerates him.”

“On the contrary, My Lady. I replace the young Prince quite charming and his candor most refreshing.” Lord Killian said, smiling at Rowan. Rowan wanted to slap the smile off the man’s face but instead he returned the smile with one of his own although forced and with a hint of irritation behind it.

“Oh, My Lord, I’m sure you are just being kind, but you needn’t be so with our Prince. I’m afraid he lacks any real charm, or social skills, for that matter. Now, my daughter Emilia on the other hand, has all the grace and charm of a proper Lady.”

Lord Killian looked to his left at Lady Emilia as she smiled sweetly at him. “Yes, Indeed she does.” He said, licking his lips. “I have been quite captivated by her charms all afternoon.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to upchuck all over the table.

Rowan was never so eager for the meal to end and when it finally did he jumped up with all intentions of running back for his rooms but the sharp look in his father’s eyes told him to stay right where he was.

With the pleasantries out of the way, Lady Caroline excused herself to her boudoir, while Lady Emilia offered to give Lord Killian a tour of the palace. Rowan scoffed at that, being quite sure that Lord Killian already knew the layout very well. At least he was familiar with the more private areas free of prying eyes.

With the others gone, Rowan was left alone with the King and wondering why he himself had not yet been dismissed. The King beckoned him to follow him to his solar. Rowan did so, begrudgingly. Once inside, the King slammed the door closed then turned on Rowan at once, grabbing him by his hair and flinging him violently to the floor.

Rowan yelled out then tried to crawl away as his father raised his hand and quickly struck him across the face. Blood spurted from Rowan’s nose and he fell backwards against the cold, hard floor. Rowan covered his nose with his hand then quickly crawled into the corner where he cowered in fear. Tears stung his eyes and his body began to tremble as he saw the look of complete madness in the King’s eyes.

“You stupid, ungrateful, insufferable little fool! You dare to disrespect me, your King, in front of my guests!”

“Father, please.” Rowan cried, still shaking in fear. “Forgive me...”

“Do not call me father.” The King hissed. “No son of mine behaves the way you did out there, I should have you flayed alive for your transgressions!”

Rowan looked to the floor, weeping uncontrollably. Master Kinnerik had always said he would one day go to far and so it seems that day had come. He wondered, would his father make good on his threats and kill him? Was this the end for him? In some strange way death almost seemed merciful. At least it would end his long suffering. No more would he remain victim to his father’s fury.

“Get up.” He King sneered as he paced the room. “At least pretend that you’re not some sniveling little coward.”

“Y...yes, Your Majesty.” Rowan struggled to stand. His legs were weak and his head ached terribly. Fortunately, the bleeding had stopped as his natural healing began to work it’s magic.

“This was a mistake.” The King mumbled to himself as he paced in front of his son. “I should have known better.”

“Sire?” Rowan narrowed his eyes as he watched his father talking to himself, wondering suddenly if the old King had indeed lost his mind.

The old King stopped then turned and glared at Rowan, the disgust he felt for his own offspring more obvious than ever. “Do you know why I ordered you to take your midday meal at my table?”

Slowly and cautiously, Rowan shook his head. “N...no, Sire. I admit that I do not.”

“Lord Killian requested you be present. That is why. That is the only reason why. I knew it was a mistake but being the son of the Duke of Grayholm, I took a chance that you might actually behave yourself for once, and granted his request, though shocking as it was.”

“I...I don’t understand.” Rowan stammered. “Lord Killian? Why would he request my presence?”

“I wondered that myself.” The old King laughed, mockingly. “I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why he would even care about a pathetic little whelp like you. As it turns out though, he’s quite enamored with you, though, don’t ask me why. It seems, however, that we are presented with an unforeseen and possibly quite fortuitous opportunity here.”

“Sire?” Rowan felt his heart jump as a new and terrifying fear crept up his body and wrapped around his throat like a snake intent on choking the life out of him. “What exactly does Lord Killian want with me?” He barely got the words out as they were nearly choked off in his mouth. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know the answer to that though, somehow, he felt he already did.

“Well, my idiot son. It seems my prayers have finally been answered. Lord Killian has asked permission to claim you as his mate, and I’ve given him my blessing.” The King grinned sadistically as he walked to Rowan and took the Prince’s face in his hand, tilting his head up so they locked eyes. “Finally, I’ll be rid of you. And not a moment too soon.”