Page 45 of Shadowlands Omega

“You can’t grab Lord Yaron!” he hisses in her ear. “We’ll be back in the dungeons before you can blink.”

He’s not right. But he has a point. Slowly, I nod and take a step towards them. He isn’t a short male, but I’m still quite a bit taller. I’m not wearing my cloak, but I don’t know how to shake the feeling that I’m still towering when I want to approach him as equals. “It’s quite alright. I just…am surprised you would welcome me into your family so easily.”

“She’s just excited, m’Lord.” He looks to the side, his displeasure apparent. With his wife, though? Or with me? “She’s been wanting her daughters married off since they were born. A lord is far better than any of them can do, given the fact that we’re just cooks, m’Lord.” Just cooks. Poor. Few opportunities. Female. I don’t like the words of the Omega echoing in my skull.

I nod, as if in understanding, though I’m not sure I fully do. “You would be pleased with a Lord marrying your daughters,” I say to Kiandah’s mother and father, “but would you be pleased with Kiandah marrying me?”

“Of course!” shouts her mother at a pitch that feels a little too high.

“Fuck no,” her brother growls at the same time.

Her father says nothing. He doesn’t need to. His eyes flit away before moving back to mine again.

I don’t say anything for a moment. I am in a particularly torturous position. I am Lord over them and I intend to mate and bond and marry their daughter. It is only a matter of time. Yet that time could beyearsfrom now.Having the approval of her family could condense my timeline by months — no, that’s not true. That’s a simplification. If her family approved of me today, I would have her hand by tomorrow.

I nod, not needing to hear more. As is the case with any war, I will need a strategy, but this one will take time to devise. I’ve never fought a war for aheartbefore, let alone for many of them.

“I understand,” I say. My heart beats hard and slow in my chest. So hard I can feel it in my eyes. “For now, let us begin with dinner for Kiandah. I would appreciate some direction as to what Kiandah might enjoy. She has had a trying day, after all.”

“Trying?” Her oldest sister.

“Is she alright?” Her middle sister.

“She okay?” Her brother.

“What happened?” her father and mother say together.

“She likes Orias rice,” her youngest sister says, voice high and strained. “I’m not a good cook like her, but I think I can show you how to make it.”

I turn towards her and am curious about the terrified look on her face. It is very unlike her, the little I know of her thus far. She is a male peacock, this one, all plumage, and though I don’t know her, I know her well enough not to trust her to have Kiandah’s best interest at heart. So why does she offer her help now?

Curious, I turn towards her and nod slightly. “Please, proceed. And Radmilla,” I say, turning to the woman who’s been standing by the door silently laughing at me. “Have the builders come by to take measurements as soon as possible.”

“Very well, my Lord.” She moves to leave, but before she does, she pauses. The old dame has the audacity to wink at me. “And have fun.”

The Omega’s family chuckles, and strangely, Radmilla’s insubordination seems to ease some of the tension in the room as I’m folded uneasily into their ranks. Working together with her mother, whose name I learn is Mercy, they show me how to make Orias rice. It’s harder than I thought it would be to make rice, and this rice has many ingredients. Red pepper, bay leaves, onion, garlic and a dried pepper that Mercy doesn’t let me touch, but handles herself while wearing gloves. There are many times when I sense that they’d like to correct something I’m doing, but Mercy is the only one who has the courage. She takes the knife from me after I chop the onions and redoes my work while I look on, frustrated that I’ve done it wrong. I’m not used to doing things wrong.

Zelie, the middle sister, suggests charred chicken wings to accompany the rice. I think that sounds awful — charred anything does, except for the bodies of Trash City I’d like to have hanging from the spikes on my gates — but I don’t say so. Instead, I have her show me which spices to coat them in and then her father shows me how to rack the “oven” firepit and at which point to lay the chicken on. Meanwhile, Audet, the youngest sister, continues to stir the rice through to completion.

I dust my hands off on the rag Reginald, her father, hands me. I notice that his hands are scarred worse than mine. Lots of his wounds look like burns. “Radmilla has encouraged me to consider breaking tradition,” I tell him, glancing from his scars to his face. “We will be upgrading the kitchens over the next ten days. The builders will be in and out. They will attempt to remain as out of your way as possible. You are free to give them direction as how best to assist you and where you’d like the machines placed. In advance of their arrival, if you’d like to come up with some sketches, or if you have particular machines you would like or other requirements, that could be helpful.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Reginald says.

Then Cyprus cuts in, “If it’s sketches we’ll need, we need Kiandah for that. She’s the only one of us that can draw. Her sketchbooks are in the old kitchens.” He has his hands on the butcherblock countertop of the massive island that dominates the space. His left, free hand drums angrily near the pile of onions he’s been dicing. His right hand still holds the knife. “Can you have one of your…people go get them, my Lord?” His tone is acerbic. I don’t let myself rise to it, but nod.

“You will fetch them with one of my Riders, along with anything else you might need from your old home.”

“It wasn’t torched?”

“My Lord,” I hiss.

“My Lord,” he says quickly, color rising in his face. The hard slash of his brows hardens further.

I nod, trying not to be infuriated by his obvious insubordination. I need to win his respect. I have his sister. He is an Alpha and he is right to worry. I have not been able to keep her safe thus far. The thought sinks through me like a stone. I swallow hard and my voice comes out sharper than I intend as I answer him, “No. It was not torched. You may bring your things here. Any that you need. And any additional requirements you may have to make your living conditions more…tolerable, you may give to Radmilla. She will ensure they are procured, within reason.”

Cyprus’s eyes flash with surprise before narrowing. His hand twitches on the knife he holds. “And after we get her stuff, my Lord, can Kiandah come help us draw plans for the kitchens?”

“She is not confined to my chambers, if that is what you’re asking,” though I know it’s not all he’s asking. He wants to know if she’s in trouble, if she’s safe, if she’s my prisoner, if he’ll ever be able to see her again. Answers I’m not sure he deserves. I’m also not sure he doesn’t. Carefully, I say, “But she is injured at the moment. I won’t have her up and walking around freely for the next couple days, or until Lord Okayo gives her clearance to do so, whichever is longer.”

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