Page 44 of Shadowlands Omega

“Not without punishing them first.” Her frown dips even further down her face, but before she can speak, I reach out and, in a move most uncharacteristic of me, I place my palm on her shoulder. “Trust me Radmilla, I do not intend to lose her.”

Radmilla must be shocked, because for the first time in her life she doesn’t answer me. I smirk and cock my chin towards the kitchens. “Come. You will accompany me to the kitchens?”

“To…fetch the Omega a meal, my Lord?” she guesses, struggling to understand what I’m doing here — what we’re doing here.

I shake my head and look back at her over my shoulder as I near the door. “Not at all. You’re here for me. For moral support.”

She gawks and then stumbles in her effort to catch up to me as I take the long strides necessary to bring me to the open doorway in the left wall. There is no door set in the frame, just a large, gaping opening of rough-hewn rock. Stones are missing in several places.

I step into the kitchens, light washing over me stemming from the wide double doors, which are currently propped open. It seems that some foods — potatoes — are being either brought in, carried out or sorted. I feel…strangely nervous as I enter the vast space. I’m surprised by both the scale of it and how empty it feels, devoid of Radmilla’s precious appliances, with only the one cooking fireplace against the far wall and several long stretches of disintegrating wooden tables for them to prepare food upon.

I frown. This won’t do. This won’t do at all.

The singing dies with my presence and I look around the chamber at the members of the Omega’s family, meeting each of their gazes in turn. There is the youngest daughter. She stands closest to me and is kneading what I have to assume to be bread. I know nothing of food at all. She stiffens when she sees me and quickly begins smoothing down her skirts and rolling back her shoulders, but before she can fully preen and present herself, I flick my gaze to her brother.

There is fire in his gaze, a twin flame I see reflected in the eyes of his sister. Though hers is stronger, his is still bright green and fierce. I can work with that.

Next to him is another sister, though not the eldest. She has doe eyes, like Kiandah, and hair that falls down to her chest in twists. A sudden fleeting image interrupts my thoughts.Kiandah, with hair down to her mid-back, wrapped in twists just like these. We’re here in the castle and she’s hiding behind a corner, thinking I can’t see her watching me out of the corner of my eye. She’s with a friend. They’re both watching me and giggling like schoolgirls because that’s what they were. She was so much younger then.

I nearly stagger at the realization that this is not a dream but amemory. I have seen Kiandah before in the castle. What had she been doing there? I wish…my stare had lingered over her longer…that she hadn’t been a child… Had we both been of age and had I noticed the fire within her then, perhaps so much could have been avoided. Perhaps, her family would not have gone to such lengths to better their circumstances. Perhaps, I could have kept them all safe from me and the judgement they are owed. Perhaps, I could have kept Kiandah all to myself and so much time would not have been lost between us.

Staring at this sister of hers with the long hair, I wonder if she is older or younger than Kiandah. I cannot tell, for they look so dissimilar, now especially without a hair color to bind them. They do share the same skin tone, a skin tone shared also by their mother, while their father, brother, and youngest sister all hover on a spectrum of brown a few shades lighter. The oldest sister has a skin tone slightly darker brown than all the rest.

My gaze passes to her, but she will not look at me, and as I look between her face and that of her mother and father, sensing their guilt and sensing her rage, I wonder…who is truly in charge here?

Not being able to answer that, I look toward the elders. Kiandah’s mother stands at the open doorway, a potato in each hand, while her father feeds wood into the sticks in the bottom of the fireplace. He has sweat on his brow, pouring down his face. They all look dirty and unwashed, like the servants one might find in Hjiel, where violence is prized and the strong oppress those weaker. Is this what I have made them? In the realm of shadows, have we all become savages?

Behind me, Radmilla softly clears her throat. My annoyance flashes into discomfort. I realize that I’ve been standing there silently intimidating them for the better part of a minute and that was not my intent. “Hello,” I say. That sounds rather dumb though, doesn’t it? I clasp my hands behind my back and take a step further into the space while the Ubutu family glances around uncertainly at one another.

“Apologies,” I say, starting again. “I do not mean to interrupt your preparations for the evening meal.”

“Don’t worry, my Lord, the evening meal has already been prepared and taken to the great hall. We are beginning preparations for the morning meal. But they can wait,” Kiandah’s father says uncertainly. He stands up and wipes his hands off on the soot-soaked apron tied around his waist.

I stare at him, meeting his gaze, watching his discomfort with a mirrored discomfort of my own. “I…” I clear my throat. “I had not yet received my evening meal.”

“Normally, Lady Radmilla comes to fetch it. We have it here.” He gestures to his middle daughter, the one with the twists, and she steps aside to reveal a covered tray. It’s a long tray, always laden with far more food than I could eat in a sitting. I end up throwing a lot of it away. Meanwhile, Kiandah fought for her life today to try to ensure that the castle has fresh stores. And I discard mine… The knot in my stomach twists like a knife plunged in up to the hilt.

Grimly, I say, “Have you all eaten dinner yet?”

“No, m’Lord.”

I have five other questions ready to ask them, that I would ask them were they staff, but they aren’t…even though they are…so I don’t. I clear my throat. “Why don’t you all dine from the tray you prepared for me? It seems large enough to accommodate a family and far too large for a single individual.”

They look around at each other and I can feel Radmilla laughing at my back even though she doesn’t make a sound and her amusement is likely not visible on her expression — but I can still feel it.

“You… What will you eat, my Lord?” Kiandah’s father says.

“I actually came down here with a request. I would like to prepare a dish for the Omega…for Kiandah. I’d like to prepare it myself, but I am unfamiliar with cooking practices and could use some…help.” Help. I don’t think I’ve ever asked forhelpbefore from anyone for anything. “I can prepare for myself whatever I prepare for her.”

The family seems momentarily frozen in time. Momentarily… And then the youngest sister snorts. “You want to prepare Kiandah food, Lord Yaron?” She laughs. “Why on earth would you want to prepareherfood?”

I’m curious about the young one’s tone. She is young, perhaps, that can explain the slight bite behind it. But I don’t think so. Her jealousy runs deeper. Evenly, I answer her, “I intend to take Kiandah for my wife.”

That shuts her up so fast, she chokes. “A w…wi…” She never finishes that thought and I don’t wait for her to.

Meanwhile, Kiandah’s mother shrieks. The sound startles me and I reach instinctively for my axe, even though I’m not wearing it. I pivot and see her rushing towards me. I worry for a moment she means to attack — it would be no less than what I would do, were the positions reversed. But when I lift my hand to repel her assault, she grabs my forearm and shakes it vigorously. She is a very, very short woman — shorter than Kiandah by half a foot — and has to lift up onto her tiptoes to reach my face. She grabs my cheeks and pinches them to the point of pain.

“My son! My son, a Lord? My daughter, a Lady! Welcome to the family!” She moves in like she’s going to strangle me…or hug me…but her husband lunges from his position and races over to grab her by the shoulders. He drags her away from me while she bats at his hands.

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