Page 28 of Storms of His Wrath

“As you can see, princess,” she said, addressing Naya directly while her gaze encompassed the entire assembly, “we are divided on this matter. This decision cannot be made lightly or quickly—too much depends on choosing the right path.”

She lifted her crystal staff from where it rested against her chair, the faceted surface catching light and scattering rainbow fragments across the carved walls. “We will be discussing this for the rest of the morning, weighing every aspect, every possible consequence. I need to hear all perspectives before making a final determination.”

Her eyes found Naya’s again, warmth softening the formal tone. “We will be adjourning atlur ennenfor our midday rest. Perhaps you and I can speak privately then, when our minds have had time to settle and consider.”

The woman Naya’s age shifted forward in her seat, offering a gentle smile that transformed her serious features. “If you’re looking for something to occupy your time while we deliberate, there’s an area where you can observe our young women during combat training. You might find it interesting.”

Surprise flickered through Naya, her eyebrows rising. “You have warriors?”

“Not warriors in the traditional sense,” the woman clarified. “The training is primarily for self-defense—protection for those who travel to the districts. We cannot always avoid dangerous situations, and our women need to be prepared to defend themselves if circumstances require it, but some do take it as seriously as warrior training.”

The practicality of it struck Naya immediately. Of course they would need such skills. Women traveling alone through harsh territory, blending into societies that might turn hostile if their true nature was discovered. Combat training wasn’t just wise; it was essential for survival.

“Thank you,” Naya said, rising from the stone bench. Her muscles had grown stiff from sitting in the same position, and she was grateful for the opportunity to move. “Thank you all for sharing your thoughts with me. I understand the complexity of the decision you’re facing.”

She inclined her head respectfully to each section of the circle, acknowledging both those who supported intervention and those who counseled caution. But as she walked toward the chamber’s entrance, troubling thoughts churned through her mind.

The Omegas spoke of isolation as protection, but Naya could see the cracks in their ideals. They weren’t truly isolated, they were dependent on the very society they hid from. And worse, they seemed unaware of what a society without Omegas could become.

She’d wanted to voice these concerns, to warn them about the dangers of their current path, but the assembly was focused on the immediate crisis of the storm, not the longer-term sustainability of their society. She would have to raise it later in her private conversation with Oshrun.

Taking a deep breath outside, Naya found herself drawn back to the sounds of children’s laughter echoing from the communalareas instead of the training area. She yearned for the simple joy she’d found playing with Nnimi that morning, the reminder of Lili, the uncomplicated pleasure of a child’s delight. After the heavy discussions of political maneuvering and impossible choices, she needed that freedom again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The morning had been a delightful blur of children’s laughter and games, especially after the heaviness of the assembly’s discussions. Naya had spent time with Nnimi and the other children, chasing them between scattered cushions, growling in their imaginary adventures, and collapsing in breathless giggles when little hands finally teamed up and caught her. The pure, unguarded happiness had been exactly what her spirit needed.

When an Omega arrived with exaggerated sternness to collect Nnimi for her hair appointment, the little girl clung to Naya’s side with desperate fingers. “I don’t want to! It pulls!” she pleaded with Naya, her golden-brown eyes wide with panic. The Omega’s stern facade had cracked immediately when she caught Naya’s amused expression, explaining with fond exasperation how Nnimi always tried to slip away when it came time for her hair to be done, for example, insisting this morning that she simply had to find her mima. Naya had laughed and offered to stay. She watched in fascination as skilled fingers worked aromatic oils and creams through the wild explosion of frizz on one side, transforming it into neat braids along the scalp that matched the other side.

Then it was time for reading, which had captivated Naya completely. Written down, their language, Shtonma, flowed across parchment like art — graceful curves and angular marks that held a beauty entirely different from any of the languages she’d learned. At Nnimi’s level, the symbols were simple enough for Naya to begin recognizing patterns, especially when the little girl kept pausing to explain pictures and proudly pointing out repeated words.

They were both deep in their studies, Nnimi’s small finger guiding Naya through a story about a lonely desert flower trying to find friends, when footsteps approached. Naya looked up to see Oshrun walking toward them, exhaustion evident in every line of her body.

“Mima!” Nnimi abandoned the book immediately, launching herself into her mother’s arms. Oshrun caught her easily, pulling her close in a warm embrace that softened the weariness around her eyes. Over Nnimi’s head, she met Naya’s gaze and smiled.

“The deliberations are finished for now,” she said. “But I’ll be spendinglur ennenwith Nnimi in our chambers. I hope you understand.”

Naya rose, nodding. The strain of leading such discussions, of weighing the safety of her people against the greater good, would be overwhelming for anyone. Every parent deserved time with their child away from that kind of burden.

“Of course,” Naya said warmly. “It can’t be an easy topic to navigate.”

Gratitude relaxed Oshrun’s features. “Most of the others will gather in the communal dining area before their rest, if you’d like company.”

Naya nodded, but her thoughts had already turned elsewhere. A pull tugged at her chest, stronger and more insistent. She wanted to see Akoro again. The memory of him in the shifting sands, the raw vulnerability when he’d asked ifshe would ever give him a real chance, had been haunting her thoughts throughout the morning. They needed to talk.

“Actually,” she said, “I was wondering... might it be better for me to visit the king now? Duringlur ennen,rather than this afternoon?”

Oshrun studied her face for a moment, then nodded slowly. She reached into her robes and pulled out the crystal pendant, its faceted surface glinting. “You’ll need this. Hold onto it while you’re here. You know where to go?”

The chain was cool against Naya’s palm as she nodded and accepted it. “Rest well,” she said, smiling at both mother and daughter.

As she walked toward the canyon’s hidden exit, anticipation and nervousness warred in her chest. She hoped this time she might get real answers from Akoro—about the Omegas, about his intentions, about the future he envisioned for them both.

The Isshiran Sands parted around Naya again like a sandy sea of gold, each grain seeming to recognize her presence and flow away in rippling waves. Wherever she stepped, the surface solidified into firm ground, as natural as walking across the palace courtyard.

She marveled at the sophistication of Omega magic—not the raw force she was accustomed to wielding, but something refined, precise, and responsive. The protective bubble surrounding her was invisible yet firm, holding the hostile Sands at bay while allowing her to move freely through terrain that had cost so many lives.

As the distant outline of Akoro’s camp emerged from the shimmering heat, movement caught her eye. A massive figurebroke away from the collection of tents, running toward her with powerful, determined strides. Even at this distance, she knew it was him—the familiar bulk of his shoulders, the predatory grace of his movement, the way he devoured ground with each step.

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