Page 37 of Sins of His Wrath

He didn’t even glance at her. “What is it?”

Auntie Vic’s voice remained measured, but Naya knew her well enough to hear the carefully placed weight in her words. “Empress Cailyn wishes to point out that you have given the princess a way to kill herself with the wound you carved into her face.”

Akoro’s eyes slid to her, his jaw clenching.

“All she has to do is get far enough away from you and let herself bleed out,” Auntie Vic said. “She requests that you consider removing it.”

Naya’s spine went rigid. She resisted the urge to turn and at glare at Mama. She would never do something like that! Mama was treating her like every other Omega who had lost themselves at the hands of their mate—the ones who had reached the edge of what they could bear could only see one way out. And while Naya had felt that slow, numbing disinterest in everything after her heat, the suffocating weight of her captivity—this was different. This time, she had a purpose. This time, she had an empire to protect.

She understood Mama’s intention. As cold and tragic as it was, history had proven it—suicide was sometimes the only escape from the most sadistic Alphas. And as much as it made her sick to acknowledge, if things ever became unbearable, it was an option for every Omega to consider.

Mama knew what she was doing. She wasn’t just trying to protect her. She was planting the thought in Akoro’s head to make sure her daughter didn’t make a rash decision. No Alpha wanted to hear that his mate would rather die than belong to him.

But she shouldn’t be interfering. The situation was already unstable, and this wasn’t worth derailing the progress they’d made for her face wound.

“The empress doesn’t have a voice in this discussion, Administrator,” Naya said stiffly.

Auntie Vic lowered her head slightly. “I understand, your highness.” Her voice softened, but she remained formal. “And I offer my sincere apologies. The entire empire trusts your judgment and abilities. But the Empress had this small concern and wished for it to be mentioned.”

She turned her attention back to Akoro. A tense silence stretched between them.

“I will consider it,” Akoro said. He looked between them and then glanced behind Naya at the Lox warriors. “Did the emperor have nothing to say?”

Swallowing, Auntie Vic lifted her chin and blinked. “Nothing that I can repeat.” With a respectful dip of her head, she turned and walked back toward the Lox.

Prillu returned, speaking in low tones to Akoro.

He turned to Naya. “We will release the Omegas once you are in the forest with us.”

Naya nodded. “There’s something else. I need to speak to someone here before I go.”

His expression twisted, suspicion flashing through his eyes. “You will not see this fake mate?—”

“No, not him… an Omega elder. I don’t know when or if I’ll see her again.”

He exhaled, his face still rigid with irritation. So she was surprised when he spoke. “It will cost you one of your days.”

Naya pressed her lips together, forcing herself to swallow the curses clawing at her throat. If that’s what it took to get a head start from Mother Freya, it was worth it. “Fine.”

For a long moment, his gaze roamed her face, his expression unreadable, and Naya held still under the weight of it.

The moment stretched too long, his dark eyes holding her in place. Then—his voice came slow and deliberate. “If the Lox charge my men or if you see this fake mate of yours, the war will start. Do you understand? Be back here within the hour.” Something dangerous flickered behind his gaze. “And then you are mine.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Naya ran through the corridors of the palace, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

She had just made the most significant negotiation of her life—offering herself and her empire in exchange for something she wasn’t even sure she could do. Fifteen days. No. Fourteen. Fourteen days to stop a war.

Her breath came in rough, uneven pants as she wove through the evacuated corridors, her mind racing, heading to the one person who could help her.

She reached the small room and burst in. “Mother Frey?—”

She froze.

The room was empty.

“No,” she breathed, scanning the space, her pulse surging with panic. “Fuck! No!” Her hands slammed against the wall as she fought to control her breathing. How was she going to take on the white fire without help? Frustrated, she unbuckled her cuirass, yanking it free. It hit the ground with a dull thud, and she moved onto her pauldrons, tossing them onto the bed.

---