Page 23 of Storms of His Wrath

A communal dining space sprawled before them, ringed by smooth stone benches and low tables. Colorful cushions in rich shades of crimson, amber, and deep blue were arranged around the tables, already half-filled with women and children of various ages. Platters dotted the tables with morning dishes: golden flatbreads, bowls of creamy porridge studded with dried fruits, small clay pots containing fragrant preserves. The air was fragrant with scents of baking bread and sweet spices, making Naya’s empty stomach clench with hunger.

The air was alive with laughter and chatter, relaxed with the easy intimacy of shared meals. Nnimi sat with other children, her face lighting when she spotted Naya. She waved shyly, her small hand fluttering.

“Join us,” Oshrun said, heading to a table. “Sit and eat.”

Naya struggled with irritation as she took in the scene. “I thought you said I was free to ask my questions.”

“You can. But it’s mealtime. Time for food and family. That can never wait.” Oshrun tilted her head toward the table. “We can talk while we eat.”

Naya exhaled, forcing her irritation to fade, and following Oshrun. Before sitting, Oshrun kicked off her sandals and suddenly lost several inches of height. Naya stared in shock as the tall, imposing Omega became a woman of average Omega stature—no taller than Naya herself.

“How—” Naya couldn’t stop staring at the innocent-looking sandals. They looked completely flat, showing no sign of added height.

Oshrun smiled and arched an eyebrow.

A breath of laughter escaped her. Clearly the sandals were one of their tools for hiding among the people.

As they settled onto cushions, the gentle chatter faded. Oshrun began speaking in their native tongue, her voice strong with unmistakable authority despite its warmth. From the reverent cadence, Naya assumed it was a morning blessing.

While Oshrun spoke, Naya studied the faces around them. They were relaxed and happy, their expressions open, their eyes bright. Laughter came easily to them, smiles blossoming at small jokes or gestures.

Something inside Naya softened. Was her indignation fair? These children were clearly well-cared for and content. These women seemed at peace. Maybe being hidden here, assumed banished and abandoned, was better than the exploitationOmegas had historically faced in nearly every land she knew. That they could exist this way, thriving after all the Omegas in this land had endured, maybe she shouldn’t judge.

“...And now we will switch to the Common Tongue,” Oshrun said, pulling Naya from her thoughts, “so that our guest, Princess Naya from the Known Lands, can understand and enjoy our conversation too.”

Laughter rippled around the table, and Naya found herself smiling.

Women began passing dishes. Warm flatbread arrived first, accompanied by small pots of preserves—some sweet with hints of exotic fruits, others savory with herbs she couldn’t identify. Naya tore off a piece, the bread’s warmth spreading through her fingers before she tasted the burst of honey and spice on her tongue.

“To answer your question, our society is built on advanced protection,” Oshrun explained, spreading golden preserve on her bread. “Kaharine made it clear that being out of sight and mind was the best way for Omegas to survive.”

Naya held her tongue, though her thoughts raced. That was before the Omega Compound had been discovered in her land, before that lifestyle had crumbled when Omegas realized what they’d been missing without their Alphas.

Next came bowls of creamy porridge studded with dried fruits and nuts, the texture rich and satisfying. A woman passed steaming clay vessels filled with spiced tea that warmed Naya’s throat and settled her restless energy.

“Omegas pair up to look after each other during their heats,” Oshrun continued, matter-of-factly. “We never have heats with Alphas. It’s too dangerous.”

Naya swallowed her mouthful of stew. “Then why have children at all?”

Nearby tables quieted, several women pausing mid-bite to glance between her and Oshrun.

“Many Omegas have an instinctual need to bear children,” Oshrun said. “In the beginning, when we forbade it, we lost sisters to suicide and depression. Our bodies and spirits crave what we had before the destruction.” She set down her spoon, looking up to meet Naya’s gaze. “So we cautiously allow Omegas to enter into relationships with men in the districts. Brief ones. If children came as a result, we embrace them. Girl children stay in Ilia, whether or not they present as Omegas.”

“And boys?” Naya asked as a bowl of small, leather-skinned fruits passed to her. She peeled one, revealing jewel-like seeds that burst with sweet-tart juice. “These are delicious,” she said, juice running down her fingers.

“Grown in our rooftop gardens,” said a woman across the table, smiling. “Hidden from view by the canyon walls, but they get enough sun to thrive.”

Oshrun’s expression softened a little as she reached for one of the fruits. “Boy children are loved dearly,” she said. “But we cannot risk those boys growing into men who know of our existence. They are placed with loving couples who will care for them—families we thoroughly research who will cherish them. The children are watched until adulthood to ensure their lives never become ones of abuse.”

Naya frowned. “Are they really watched that long?”

“It’s one of the main reasons some Omegas regularly leave the canyon,” Oshrun said, “to check on their sons.”

“What are the other reasons?” Naya asked.

Servers appeared with small clay cups filled with a golden liquid that gave off a rich, complex aroma. Naya’s eyes widened with recognition and delight.

“Kkermo!” she breathed, accepting the cup with both hands like a precious gift.

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