Page 53 of Shadowlands Omega

“My sweet baby…”

“Come here…” My brother lifts his arm and I step into him. He’s warm despite the fact that he’s not wearing a jacket. He’s just wearing a thin tunic, same as me, and when I look down, I see that we all have bare feet.We look like prisoners.

I frown, feeling sad that this is how Lord Yaron would parade us in front of the town. He speaks of wanting to bond me, but if I were out in the crowd, this isn’t how I would want to see my Lord parade his Lady in front of me and the rest of his people. Because they should be her people, too, shouldn’t they?

My mom reaches across Cyprus to grip my hand. I hold her back, and together, we watch Lord Yaron walk a long line in front of us. His boots clatter on the cobblestones. The skies have once again darkened. His gaze passes over each member of my family before finally landing and lingering on me. Then he wrenches his gaze up to the crowd.

He moves towards the other villagers and begins to walk a long line around the circle they form around us. He’s speaking to them directly, in ways he has done before but that I have only had the honor of being a part of twice — once when he was announced as our Berserker Lord all those years ago when I was six and he was fourteen, and again a year ago, or more now, when he came to warn us all about a dangerous animal that had been sighted on our shores. We didn’t know then that they werenotanimals, but undead Alphas.

His voice pitches loud and carries with a booming force that I feel in the soles of my feet, echoing through the cobblestones. There is a reason that, when I first saw him even as a child, I could identify him immediately as our Lord. “I have gathered you all here to witness the trial of the Ubutu family.” My blood turns to ice in my veins.What?Cyprus’s arm tightens around my shoulders as I feel my legs start to wobble.

Whispers start up. Yaron speaks over them, “The Ubutu family has been involved with Trash City in carrying out nefarious deeds impacting all of Gatamora. They helped Trash City prepare the bodies of Alphas. Though the reason cannot be confirmed without a shadow of a doubt, I’m sure that we all suspect that these bodies were collected with the intention of being turned.” His cloak trails behind him, fluttering in a breeze that I can’t feel. The air feels static everywhere except for around him.

“For those of you who have not seen the undead with your own eyes, rest assured that the rumors of their existence are true. I have seen and fought them both on the North Island and now here, on our shores.” He sweeps his gaze over the crowd and I wonder at his reaction. He seems tense, angry, even, and I don’t know why.

“My Crimson Riders and I have not been able to root them out, but if you have information that would help me keep you safe, please do not keep it to yourself. You will not be punished for holding information, if that is your concern. I am your Lord, yes, but I am also your protector. I am duty-bound to raze the undead from our shores. Inform one of my Riders if you know anything. They will be stationed around Orias Village over the coming days with the express intent of collecting any information you may have…”

A woman in the crowd whose face I know but whose name I can’t remember stands with her arm around a younger woman. She speaks up, “Inform your Riders, my Lord? So that we can be raped? We heard that the Omega was assaulted as she was escorted from Orias Village only yesterday.” The crowd’s rumble picks up in volume. Yaron remains undeterred.

“She was. And the assailant has been dealt with.” He lifts a scarred hand and beckons towards the carriages with two fingers. Two Riders emerge from between them, dragging something into the square that I don’t understand at first…until villagers begin screaming.

Shrieks and groans from the crowd are punctuated by the sounds of vomiting. At least half a dozen people retch, one of them being Zelie, who stands on the other end of the row of my family. Owenna gives her comforting pats on the back and whispers to her in words I cannot hear.

My eyes are still unfocused, not understanding…the mass… “Is that…”

“Yes, Kia,” Cyprus says to me. “Don’t look.”

I feel my own stomach lurch as understanding finally dawns on me. The man has had his hands and feet removed, he’s been impaled in his…rear end…and the skin on his back has been flayed. His lungs have been removed. They sit on his shoulders. I close my eyes and bury my face in Cyprus’s chest. He squeezes me tightly.

In my ear, he whispers, “He deserved it.”

“No one deserves that,” I croak. “Did…Lord Yaron do that?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Personally.”

I feel nauseous. This is what he’s capable of. I let him touch me with hands capable of pulling the skin off of someone. Another few voices release gut-wrenching screams.

And still, Yaron is unfazed by them. “There will be rewards for those who come forward with information pertaining to Trash City, its leader, Merlin, or the undead.” The same Riders who dragged thethingforward on a bloody rope return from the chariot with a chest. One of them pulls open the lid, revealing treasures. Gold, silver and gemstones glitter. “And punishment for those who hold information and do not divulge it.”

The juxtaposition of thethingand the treasure chest are stark and grotesque. The implication behind his words is clear. The crowd quiets amidst sniffles and whispers.

“However, punishment is to be handed out by me alone. And if I say that the Ubutu family is not to be punished, then I expect this proclamation to be followed. You are to treat them as you would any other citizen of the Shadowlands.” He’s approaching the blacksmith now and Olac does not cower, but meets his gaze with a ravenous gaze of his own. Lord Yaron is not much taller than Olac, who was the largest man I’d ever seen and might still be. He has meat on him Lord Yaron doesn’t have, especially around his thick belly. “Am I clear?” I hear him say to the crowd, though his gaze doesn’t move from Olac’s.

Olac clenches his teeth. His hands are blackened, which seems fitting as he gestures towards us hatefully. “You mean to let them go unpunished? Theykilledmy goddaughter.”

“They did not raise the blade that killed her, but I understand your grief. Your desire for revenge. You wish to see them punished, yes? Beyond their confinement to the castle?”

“Yes. You turned this foul man inside out for daring to touch your precious Omega, yet you won’t touch her for doing far worse to a family in this village.”

Yaron grabs Olac by the collar and wraps his fist in the fabric of his shirt. He looks a breath away from the kill. “I plan to take this precious Omega for my wife. And this precious Omega is not a killer. She saved the lives of thirty members of this village whenIintended to kill them by burning them alive within their precious church, under the eyes of their ancestors.

“Thatis how I intended to punish her for what she did to that family.Thatis how I intended to punish them all. I packed innocent people into a church — people who had no idea that Trash City was even on the South Island, let alone scavenging for bodies — with every intention of burning them all to the ground. Incinerating them. Listening to their flesh bubble, blister and burst. Five died that day, butmyprecious Omegasaved the rest. Does that sound like the mark of a killer?”

Olac is looking defiant…yet unsure. And the crowd around him is in an uproar. They have been ever since Yaron declared he’d take me for his wife. Though I know he said as much already, I still stand in shock. Maybe, because he told me in such a private space where it felt like the world was different, between us — where there were no blistered or disemboweled bodies, no undead and no expectations, only peace and tension, curiosity and lust — I sort of…didn’t believe him. And still…I know he cannot mean it.Ladyof the Shadowlands?Me?

I frown and waver on my feet, using my brother’s strength to comfort me while Audet shoots me a carnivorous look around Yaron’s and my mom’s bodies, a look that I cannot fault her for because it says just what I’m thinking — that I’m not worthy.

Meanwhile, Olac sputters out a response when prompted by Yaron. “Even-even the guilty will defend themselves when backed into a corner, my Lord. Just because she was successful at staying your hand doesn’t mean her family’s punishment should be over.”

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