Page 1 of The Omega Slave

Chapter one

** This book takes place four months after The Omega Thief and eight months BEFORE the bonus epilogue. (Those who have read the Omega Thief bonus epilogue will understand why the timing makes sense)

***In Rajpur the wordsummersis synonymous with the wordyearsEg Nine years = Nine summers

Kamir stood on the balcony outside his dressing room and stared out at the city. His life sentinel, Mansala would not be pleased to see him standing out here alone, sipping his coffee, but thanks to the ridiculous edicts of past emirs, no building more than two stories high was permitted to be within a half mile of the palace in Rajpur. The people farther out in the main part of the city were allowed, of course, to build their structuresas high as they wanted. Shopkeepers, tavern owners and the like all lived above their shops, and hostels and pleasure houses often had three or four levels, but none of those were close enough to fire an arrow from.

But he had bigger problems today than an imaginary assassin. He’d run out of time. Today, he would lose the throne and his people—his starving, downtrodden people—would lose what little freedom and sustenance they had managed to claw back since the end of the war and his father’s rule. Because while he assumed the title of Emir on his father’s death, he had six full moons to prove he was worthy of the gods to be crowned, and today he would fail.

Not that Kamir particularly cared what any of their gods thought, or craved their approval, but summers of tradition that he could not avoid if he wanted to be crowned meant that today he had to prove to the ruling assembly that he could do the most important thing required of him.

Shift.

To prove he was blessed by the gods to be the emir, he had to shift into his wolf. Except, he had never been able to. His age of provenance, as it was called – sixteen summers – had happened during the war, and no one had even noticed that shy, quiet, studious Kamir hadn’t shifted into his wolf. His father intended to rule for summers and finding another possible heir was the last thing on his mind.

The only one who knew was his greatest friend and protector, Mansala, and he would take that secret to the grave if he had to. And to be honest, Kamir had never wanted to be the emir. If he had a choice, he would be a scribe and historian. He’d nearly finished documenting the last seven hundred summers of Rajpur and was eager to continue. His sister Veda was much more suited to rule a kingdom, but her gender prohibited her, and that was another edict he couldn’t alter. It would take himdemonstrating his provenance, being confirmed the emir, and the further impossibility of the deaths of all sixteen members of the ruling assembly to replace with his own to change such a law. Since today was the day he had to prove he was worthy of the gods and he couldn’t, the whole thing was moot.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he had a suitable replacement, but the first in line was his uncle—his father’s younger brother—then either of his uncle’s twin sons. They were all as cruel and greedy as his own father, sometimes worse, if that was possible. His father had been selfish and greedy himself, but lazy, and without Kamir’s Uncle Gabar whispering in his father’s ear, the emir would never have challenged Cadmeera.

“My lord?”

Kamir turned and glanced at Mansala with an affection born when they children growing up in each other’s shadow. Life sentinels were chosen as children. Boys born the same day as he were lined up at the palace for approval on their fourth birthday. Families desperate for the coin and the escape from poverty such a position afforded often deliberately brought forward births or even tried to plan conception around the ritual once the emir took a wife.

After the third boy presented had grasped a kitten from a box he had brought and in front of the assembly wrung its neck to prove he was capable of killing, Kamir had risked his father’s displeasure and fled to throw up in one of the pots in his bathing room.

Mansala had followed him, unseen. To this day Kamir had never known how he seemed to disappear into the background until he was needed, but in that wretched space where Kamir had felt disgusted, sickened to his stomach, and had hated being alive, Mansala had prevented any servant from seeing him and adding to his humiliation, and a lifelong friendship had been born.

It was the only decision that Kamir was allowed to make for himself, and one he never regretted.

“All is arranged,” he said.

Kamir felt the burn of frustrated tears. Veda had suggested his uncle meet a timely death, but he had two sons, Iskar and Damatrious, who were both as bad as their father, so nothing in Rajpur would improve, and Kamir would still be prevented from assuming the crown.

The only thing he knew for certain was that today would end in his own death. There was no way his uncle or his cousins would allow him to live. If that was all he had to fear, Kamir wouldn’t have honestly cared about dying, but he knew it would mean the death of Mansala, his sister, and his closest servants, and he couldn’t risk that.

To say nothing of plunging the kingdom into greater poverty and possibly more war, but at the moment he was at a loss as to how to prevent that. So, they had planned their escape for today. With the help of Attiker and Raz’mar from Cadmeera, a diversion during the ceremony would allow them to escape.

He’d even met Attiker’s dragon Eldara in the hope she could bring forward his wolf, but she had confirmed to his regret that he had no wolf inside him. It had been his last hope.

“I was standing here pretending all we’ve worked for in the last few months wasn’t a futile exercise.”

Mansala met his gaze. “Good is never futile, my lord.”

“At least I won’t be your emir after today and you are finally free to call me by my given name.” Mansala arched a disbelieving eyebrow and somehow in the middle of such wretchedness, it made Kamir laugh. Even as children, Mansala had refused to call Kamir by his given name.

They quickly went over the secret plans as Mansala helped Kamir dress after he had bathed, and they shared a light breakfast. Veda had explained there would be a fake rebellion,staged by her secret mate Draul Eryken—the leader of the human alliance—and during the attempted assassination, Kamir would be secretly squirreled away. In the confusion, Kamir, Mansala and three trusted guards would escape through the underground passages, mount horses waiting with Draul’s crew and flee to Cadmeera.

They would have Raz’s protection while they decided what to do.

And Kamir hated every part of the plan. He was grateful his friends were about to save his life, obviously, but felt agonized over failing to save his people.

“Ah,” Attiker had whispered after seeing Eldara last month. “Do not forget that alive, you can fight another day. Dead and the hopes of your people die with you.”

Kamir had eyed Attiker suspiciously after the very grandiose words had left his mouth. Attiker huffed. “Yeah, you caught me. I’m quoting my lord and master. I would just tell you to screw ‘em, but his way sounded fancier.”

Kamir laughed for the first time in quite a while. Because everyone knew Raz hadn’t any hope in hell ofmasteringAttiker, and he freely admitted it to his friends.

The ceremony was at three bells after midday, but the celebrations that Kamir equally dreaded started two bells before that and the hours to that point would both drag yet simultaneously speed along.

---