Page 60 of Storms of His Wrath

The next morning, Akoro found himself restless. The satisfaction of their extended time together warred with the growing awareness that each day brought them closer to the storm—and to the end of their time together.

He made his way through the camp, noting Nrommo directing the morning routines with his usual efficiency. The battle chief caught his eye and nodded respectfully before returning to his duties. They’d hardly spoken while here, but it reminded Akoro of what he had said to Naya, how smoothly things operated even without his constant attention. For all of his forcefulness, there was a reason Nrommo was on his council.

Akoro found Oppo sitting outside his tent, staring out at the endless shifting with an expression of such profound melancholy that it stopped Akoro in his tracks. His brother held the drawing Nnimi had made. The parchment looked fragile, worn thin at the edges where Oppo’s fingers had traced over it repeatedly.

“Brother,” Akoro said quietly, settling onto the sand beside him.

Oppo startled slightly, then quickly began to fold the drawing. “Akoro. I didn’t hear you approach.”

“You were lost in thought.” Akoro studied his brother’s profile, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the haggard set of his features. “When did you last sleep?”

“Sleep comes when it comes,” Oppo said with a shrug that fooled neither of them.

They sat in silence for a moment, the morning heat already building despite the early hour. Finally, Akoro asked the question that had been troubling him since learning the truthabout his brother’s sacrifice. “She knows you’re here. Naya told her. Why hasn’t Oshrun come?”

Oppo’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “She has responsibilities to her community. The alliance discussions, the integration preparations—she can’t simply abandon all of that to visit me.”

“But you hoped she would.”

The admission hung between them, raw and vulnerable. Oppo was quiet for a long moment before he nodded slowly. “I know it’s selfish,” he said finally. “I know she made the right choice in staying with her people. But I’ve been so close to them for four days now, knowing they’re just beyond those dunes...” His voice deepened. “I haven’t seen my daughter since the day she was born, Akoro. I only held her once before I had to leave.”

The pain in his brother’s voice cut deeper than Akoro had expected. Oppo’s hands smoothed over the drawing with trembling fingers, and something twisted in his chest at the sight.

“Come,” Akoro said, rising to his feet. “Let’s walk.”

They made their way to the edge of the camp, where a large boulder provided some shade and privacy. Oppo settled heavily onto the stone, still clutching the drawing like a lifeline.

“Do you remember,” Akoro said, lowering himself beside his brother, “when we used to sneak out to the markets? You always insisted we had to bring back something for the kitchen staff so they wouldn’t tell our parents where we’d been.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Oppo’s face. “You tried to convince that baker we were orphans so he’d give us free bread and cake.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Akoro found himself almost smiling at the memory. “We ate like kings that day.”

“Until Uncle Rhonak found us covered in honey and flour, looking guilty as thieves.” Oppo’s expression grew wistful. “Iused to think we’d always have days like that. Time to just be brothers.”

The silence that followed ached with the lost simplicity. Akoro tried to summon more memories like that one, but they felt distant, buried beneath years of responsibility and the brutal choices that had shaped him into a king. How many moments of simple brotherhood had they shared before everything became complicated by duty? Too little, and too long ago.

“We can have days like that again,” Akoro said, the words coming out rough. “Maybe not sneaking out to steal pastries, but...” He paused, studying his brother’s face. “I want to know my brother again. The real one who tells me when I’m being boneheaded. Not the council adviser… who tells me when I’m being boneheaded.”

Oppo turned to look at him fully, surprise flickering across his features. Then a smile broke out on his face. “I vowed to tell you about your bone headedness. You can’t escape it.”

Akoro chuckled.

Oppo squinted at him. “But why are you saying that? You’ve never thought much of our relationship.”

Akoro exhaled. “I did, Oppo. When we were younger, I thought you were the most honorable Alpha in our family. After everything that happened, I thought you had changed, become a shadow of yourself, especially after your encounter with your Omega. I felt alone and I was all right with that because I had an honorable purpose. And you did change. But I did too. Too much.” He held Oppo’s gaze. “I should have known all of what you went through, brother. You shouldn’t have to carry this pain alone anymore.”

Oppo listened, his throat working as he swallowed.

“What if I could arrange a meeting?” Akoro added. “Naya has influence with Oshrun. Perhaps something could be arranged—somewhere neutral, safe.”

Surprise flickered in Oppo’s eyes. “You would do that?”

“Of course I would. You should know your daughter, and she should know her father.” Akoro paused, then continued more quietly. “I’ve been thinking about what kind of brother I want to be. What kind of king? Maybe it’s time I stopped treating those as separate things.”

Oppo studied his face with growing wonder. “What do you mean?”

“I want us to be able to talk to each other the way we used to, before everything became about duty and responsibility.”

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