Page 13 of The Omega Slave

His uncle pressed his lips together so hard his skin whitened. “Caliph, I urge you to reconsider.”

Kamir struggled to keep his face passive. He knew the revered title had been another attempt to stroke his ego. He deliberately threw himself dramatically into a chair and tried to appear like his world wasn’t ending. “It’s not that I want to go. I…” He let the word drag out. “Uncle,” he said, pitifully. “I’m aware the people don’t see me as a strong leader—”

“Nephew,” his uncle soothed. And Kamir nearly laughed. “You know my dear brother would have wanted nothing more than for me to guide you to become the emir he always knew you capable of.”

“Yes,” Kamir said, almost jumping on the words. “Exactly. I believe the people will only accept me if they see a strong, experienced leader at my side.” Kamir’s initial humor at his uncle’s reaction had now fled, and he felt disgust at the pure avarice in Gabar’s gaze. “But it’s more than that,” he admitted in a pitiful voice. “This whole day, days, shows me how out of my depth I am.”

He fell silent. Any more and not even his uncle’s ego would have allowed him to be convinced of Kamir’s sincerity.

Gabar bowed. “You can trust me, nephew, in my brother’s stead.”

Kamir forced a smile, reminding himself that this was exactly what he wanted. He needed his uncle away from the palace or all this would be for naught. “I am grateful.”

His uncle begged a few minutes to ready himself and even suggested a full company to go with them. It was always better, he said, to give the people what they expected.

How Kamir managed to restrain an inappropriate answer he never knew.

Barely a bell later, they left the palace gates in an obnoxiously loud procession. As Kamir had expected, there was also a large crowd. The only way Draul and his men would be able to access the palace and dungeons were because the temporary lack of guards at the palace meant an unguarded back gate. His uncle believed the pleasure slave to be behind lock and key, and no threat.

Kamir played the part of a useless, vain, vapid ruler with no real talent for making decisions. The trouble was, though, he had never been vain, simply to be trotted out for appearances, despite all attempts to make him so.

So, he sat in the common prayer house, picking at a hurried yet humble feast that the poor had put together from theirown meager stores because it was expected, and despised every second of this farce. Despised himself for taking part in it simply to save his own neck.

Except it wasn’t.

It was to save someone else. The beautiful man that had given him the power to turn into something magical. It had to be all the slave’s doing. Kamir wasn’t worthy of such a beast. He didn’t know how it happened, except that every cell in his body craved contact with the man.

And he desperately wished he knew his name.

“Highness,” Mansala murmured, and Kamir listened. It was entirely appropriate for his life sentinel to speak with him privately. In fact, Mansala took a couple of steps away from the table to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.

“The slave has been collected unharmed and is on his way.”

Kamir almost sagged in relief.

“There is a disturbance arranged. The large one that was originally intended for the palace. We will get you out because of it.”

“And no villagers will die.” He made it a demand rather than a question. His safety should never be put above others. Mansala bowed, but then a small voice interrupted.

“Why do you eat so much?”

Kamir looked down at the little girl, and raised his hand as four guards drew their swords. She was maybe eight summers, and it was clear by her skinny body and rags that she was poor.

And he had no answer. Nothing he could spout to justify such gluttony when others starved.

“My lord has little appetite,” Mansala answered for him, but Kamir knew that wouldn’t help.

“Has your family contributed to the feast?” He felt rather than saw his uncle approach. “How many brothers or sisters have you?” She held up one finger but didn’t differentiate.

And Kamir smiled as an idea entered his head. He could do this and no matter what his uncle said now or after, he couldn’t gainsay it. “Are you hungry?”

She eyed him solemnly. He walked nearer the tables then stood still until each noble eating noticed he stayed on his feet and they paused. When Kamir didn’t sit, they all rose to their feet in confusion.

“Lords,” he said incredibly loudly, ensuring everyone could hear him. “In honor of the great wrong that has been done today to our country and for the lives lost, I am bequeathing this feast to the families that suffered today and to the nation that lost so many loved ones.”

He knew that few understood his words, but it was part of the ruse. “Nobles, step away, return to your carriages.” They all took a hesitant step back and Kamir knew he had a split second to ensure that no recrimination in the form delivered by weapons would happen to the poor because the rich were among them, and heaven help the soldiers if they struck out at the people that paid their coin.

“People of Rajpur. Eat your fill.”

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