Page 29 of Shadowlands Omega

My teeth clench so hard I feel the pain of it in my forehead. I stare at Sipho. I stare at him and say nothing. I will swallow his heart if he says another word, but he doesn’t, and I don’t trust myself to respond.

I force my gaze away from him to Malik and exhale roughly through my nose. “Malik, you will join us at the docks and take the opportunity to send correspondence to Dark City. They were quick to answer our summons and offer aid, yet it must be made clear as quickly as possible that they are not to travel to us and leave Dark City exposed. They are our only trusted ally on the North Island. The city cannot fall and the departure of the Fallen Earth Omega from their territory in such a critical time could be what propels Mirage City to attack them.”

“You truly believe Mirage City would go after another city?”

“I believe they will go after any city they believe to be harboring a Fallen Omega.” Ours included, once word spreads of her powers, the shape of her face, the resemblance that she bears to the Fire Fate. “Dark City must protect itself.”

Malik is taking notes on parchment and looks up as he finishes. “Would you like them to take any action at all, my Lord?”

“Yes. Our alliance is tenuous, separated as we are by land and sea. We need to secure another port, one out of the control of Mirage City. I would encourage them to review the plans I previously proposed for an eastern port city.”

“That would be in violation of our trade agreement…”

“Should Mirage City have issue with our trade agreement, I encourage them to send their Berserker to confront me athisearliest convenience,” I spit, showing fangs as I know the rumors to be true. The Mirage City Berserker is dead. The Death Fate who is responsible for creating the undead army has reanimated the Berserker’s corpse, too, and has beenwearinghim for years like a fucking suit.

Uneasy glances are passed between my Riders, but I ignore them. “While they begin construction on a new port city, I would like to extend an invitation to Berserker N’Dogoto visit us here in the Shadowlands. While we are not enemies, neither are we allies. We need to strike up and formalize our alliance with Ruby City to ensure that our current and only viable trade route to the North Island remains open to us. They have been good to us and trade has been consistent, however, I need not tell you all how dire the situation for the South Island will become should they close their ports to us. Dark City is still a young city with a young, green Berserker at its helm. Should Ruby City ally with Mirage City and close their ports, and should Dark City fall, Mirage City will have won and we will not be able to defend against the North Island if every Alpha within it has been turned.”

More scribbling. Then Malik says, “My Lord, might I suggest… We could invite Berserker N’dogo as your honored guest to the upcoming Red Moon Festival. She could sit at your right hand while the Alphas and packs compete for the Omega.”

It is a good suggestion. A great honor. A meeting, well timed. I cannot say no, and yet, it is the only answer that echoes in my mind. And it pounds with a force that is deafening. “Yes,” I grit, my jaw hurting with the force it took to press the word through my lips. “That is a good suggestion, Malik.”

My Riders exchange quick glances they know they should not. They spell doubt and confusion. But I am not to be doubted and there is no confusion in my mind.

Only chaos.

We conclude the business of fortifying the trading alliance with Ruby City and working out more detailed plans for a highway line from Dark City to their proposed location for a new North Island port, as well as our plans to meet with the Berserker of Hjiel as soon as possible to discuss any undead sightings further south. It takes the better part of the day.

My Riders exit and as their cloaks flash, I see Radmilla standing just beyond the doors to my throne room. She is dabbing a kerchief to her face. Rage roars within me and I turn from my throne and advance on the door, ripping it open as the final Rider’s cloak disappears around the far corner.

“What has happened? What is the news?” Something bleak must have occurred to affect Radmilla like this. She raised me, a mother figure of sorts — if mothers are thorny creatures with spines of steel and an affection that oscillates between abundant and severe — but I have only seen her shed actual tears once. I caught her observing a group of small babies playing together. I did not know then, but later discovered that she had had a miscarriage some months before her husband’s passing. She never told me she’d wanted children of her own and she’d never had them. I’d been young then, but I still had the panic in my chest that I feel now. I’d gone up to her and hugged her, buried my face in her stomach for I’d been small and she’d been so much taller than I was. She’d laughed and hugged me back and it had feltwarm.But now, I am Lord of the Shadowlands. I don’t hug. My hand twitches to reach for her shoulder, but I don’t let it land.

“Who harmed you? My dungeons have places for many bodies these days.” Since I moved the Ubutu family, is what I don’t say.

Radmilla barks out a wet laugh and waves her clean pressed kerchief at me. She shakes her head. “These are not unhappy tears, my Lord. They are nothing for you to concern yourself with. I was waiting for your Crimson Riders to leave so that we might have a chance to discuss preparations for the upcoming festival.” She sucks in a breath, tears gone as if they never were. “Now that my kitchen staff has been returned to me, I believe it possible to prepare a festival worth attending by the next blood moon. What say you?”

“I say fine. Whatever you want, you shall have. But first, you will tell me why you were…tearful just now.”

She laughs and looks up at me with a peculiar expression glimmering in her light green eyes. “Oh my. Is that all it takes to get my way? I should cry around you more often, young Lord.”

I frown as she evades the question once more. “That I ask you again, Radmilla, is the only courtesy I will afford you.”

She sighs, some of the warmth leaving her eyes and filling me with a chill, rather than neutrality. I dislike the sensation. “Per your request, I finished settling the Ubutu family into their new quarters.” It took three days to get them settled. Three days that I have attempted to avoid the Omega…and failed. I find threadbare excuses to see her all the time.

“Per your request, now that their furnishings are fit for habitation and they have been cleaned up and tended to, I took the Omega to see them. It was…” Her eyes become glossy again and I brace myself for whatever her reaction will be…but she inhales deeply and wipes her eyes, tucks away her kerchief with a certain finality. She folds her hands across the full skirt of her dress. My aide, once more, not my family. Family… I don’t…suppose…I truly understand the concept. “It was a special thing to behold. Kiandah is an emotional, fiery creature. I did not expect it, having spent the last few days in her presence.”

“I did not expect it either,” I admit before I mean to.

Radmilla’s dusted-on eyebrows rise, just a peppering of grey across her skin. “It is a special thing, to see how members of that family care for one another. If only there were one fiery creature to care for you thus…”

“Radmilla,” I growl, emotion surging through me like a storm. I hear the thunder, feel the rain pelting my back as I arch over Kiandah and suck kisses from her lips like I could survive on her life force alone.

I blink and do not know how I moved, but I am now standing with one forearm braced against the open doorway, one knee cocked as if I struggle to stand. I glance down the wide corridor to the double helix staircase at its far end. My feet twitch in my boots to go to her. And yet…I conjure an image of poor Robert’s face. I have wronged him by rewarding her. He was not deserving of my sin, as she is not deserving of such grace.

“Come in. We will review your list of requirements for the festival and then you will see Talbot about paying for them. Come to me with your final proposal tomorrow.”

Radmilla snorts and the tension between us dies. “Your master of coin is no friend to me.”

To which I restrain a smirk. “He is no friend to anyone and that is why he has his position.”

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