Page 21 of The Omega Slave

“Kamir didn’t kill anyone.” Tsaria said, feeling he should point that out.

“I would imagine not,” Mansala said. “He was incapable of even killing an insect as a child. His uncle, however, would want no witnesses.”

Tsaria glanced at Jael, who was still fast asleep, then stood and walked to the end of the room. There were no windows, merely vents that provided air. How was he supposed to believe any of them? He could challenge them to let him go, but what about Jael? Maybe if he was clever they could come to some sort of arrangement?

He could demand many favors if he was responsible for Kamir’s shift. So why did that thought taste bitter, like betrayal? He owed these people nothing, but it made no sense to run away. It actually made sense to talk to the emir, but he didn’t want an audience. Maybe he should push and see where it got him butalso be prepared to run if it turned out the emir didn’t need him anymore. He wasn’t so foolish that he didn’t realize that having a pleasure slave as a constant presence would hardly be fitting in palace circles.

And he couldn’t ever forget that. “If I stay, I need somewhere Jael can stay with me.”

Ash glanced at Tam. “Attiker’s getting some rooms ready in the royal wing. Plenty of room for a young ‘un, and I’m thinking he would fit right in with Flynn and Candy.”

“Who are they?” Tsaria asked.

“The king and consort’s adopted son and daughter. Officially it’s Prince Flynn and Princess Candace, but Attiker doesn’t hold much with titles unless he’s forced to.”

Tsaria glanced at Jael. How would he fit in with a prince and princess? “I don’t think—”

Ash chuckled. “They were exactly like Jael before they were adopted. You don’t need to worry about them turning their nose up at Jael.”

He took a breath. “Very well, and perhaps in the morning you could arrange for me to speak to his highness?”

“Or you could come now?” Mansala said.

Which might be better because he didn’t know what to expect and he didn’t want to spend a night worrying. Plus Jael was asleep. The emir could have been faking his demeanor, might still fake it, or if they were all to be believed, he could be sincere in everything he’d said to Tsaria.

And for his peace of mind, Tsaria honestly didn’t know which would be worse.

Chapter ten

Kamir didn’t know what to do. Not that this state of indecision was unfamiliar. Mansala called it the great debate. Veda said it was like being between a rock and a hard place. He huffed quietly. He loved them both, but someday they would both realize it was merely an accident of birth that put him in the position he was in, and not ability.

The servants had been in to light the sconces, and he had considered bathing but couldn’t drum up the energy. They had also brought food, but he had yet to touch any of it, and he felt guilty over that because apparently he had two bowls of something called apple crumble, plus custard. Custard was a thick, hot yellow vanilla sauce, currently keeping warm in a jug, and the crumble seemed to consist of a cooked apple base and a topping of brown sugar, spices, and flour, all baked to a crust. He had to admit it smelled wonderful, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat for fear Tsaria wasn’t.

“Can you smell that?”

Kamir was brought out of his wanderings by the small, yet determined, whisper. “But it’s Wednesday. We have to eat fruit on Wednesdays, and I don’t think we’re anywhere near the kitchen.” a higher voice pointed out. Immediately diverted, and guessing he was hearing children, he decided to play along.

“What a shame,” Kamir said, as if he was talking to himself. “As a guest of their royal highnesses, I would never want to offend the palace cooks, yet I am too full to eat this dessert. Whatever shall I do?”

The silence seemed to go on for a really long time, and Kamir knew the only way they had managed to gain access to his chambers, despite the many palace guards, was that Mansala was absent. They had entered through a passage that came out into his bathing chamber, and not the kitchen as they must have expected.

It was a good thing Mansala had just left to do an errand with Ash, Attiker’s right-hand man.

He looked up as he heard steps and gazed in wonder as two children he recognized came into his suite. Flynn, the boy, maybe ten if he had to guess, and the girl, Candy, probably three summers younger. Kamir stood and bowed. “I am pleased to meet you again. Please call me Kamir.”

The girl dug her brother in the ribs. “See. Told you Daddy said he was a good one.”

Praise, any praise, made Kamir’s heart swell, and even though he had a good idea who they were, he formally introduced himself. “I have many names, but simply I am His Highness, Kamir of Rajpur.”

The boy bowed formally. “I am Prince Flynn, and this is Princess Candace.” The little girl giggled.

“You can call me Candy like my Daddy and Papa.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Everyone calls you Candy unless it has to be official.”

Kamir was utterly charmed, and of course, asked if they could do him a great favor.

“What?” Flynn asked suspiciously.

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