Page 84 of Storms of His Wrath

“I’m much taller,” Nnimi announced with the seriousness of someone reporting crucial intelligence. “And I learned new words in the Common Tongue. Want to hear?”

For the next few minutes, Naya found herself treated to an enthusiastic recitation of vocabulary that ranged from basic colors to complex architectural terms, delivered with the kind of pride that made her chest ache with affection. This child—Akoro’s niece, Oppo’s daughter—was growing up in a world where she could speak freely, learn openly, dream without limitation.

“Very impressive,” Naya said when the recitation concluded. “Where is your mother?”

“In the planning chambers with the builders. They’re designing workshops for the outer districts.” Nnimi’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Mima says we’re going to help people learn new things about magic and tools and making things work better.”

The casual mention of expansion into the broader region sent a thrill through Naya’s chest. This was what they’d fought for—not just survival, but growth, contribution, the chance for Omega knowledge to benefit everyone rather than remaining hidden in isolation.

She found Oshrun in a vast chamber carved deep into the canyon wall, surrounded by detailed architectural drawings and scale models that depicted workshops, training centers, and living quarters spread across multiple districts. The Khesh moved between the displays with fluid authority, her crystal staffcatching the light as she gestured to specific design elements while conferring with a team of Omega architects and engineers.

“The foundation work in Hharvelin can begin within the month,” one of the women was saying as Naya approached. “The district soge has approved all our proposals and allocated space in the craft quarter.”

“Excellent,” Oshrun replied, her voice carrying the satisfaction of plans coming to fruition. “And what about the Ummaveth district? They’re requesting additional workshops for textile enchantment. Apparently word has spread about our preservation techniques.”

The conversation paused as Oshrun noticed Naya’s approach, a warm smile transforming her authoritative expression. “Princess, I wondered when you would visit.”

“I promised I would come,” Naya said, moving to examine the intricate models that covered every available surface. “This is incredible. The scope of what you’re planning...”

“What we’re accomplishing,” Oshrun corrected with quiet pride. “Three districts have already requested permanent Omega advisers, and two more are negotiating for seasonal workshops. We’ll be establishing our first external settlement within the year.”

The magnitude of the transformation struck Naya like a blow. These women who had spent generations hiding their very existence were now expanding across the region, sharing knowledge that had been hoarded in secret for decades. The alliance she and Akoro had forged wasn’t just about political cooperation—it was about unleashing centuries of suppressed potential.

“Your people seem...” Naya searched for adequate words. “Happy. Confident.”

“Free,” Oshrun said simply. “For the first time in living memory, we can contribute to the region’s welfare rather thansimply surviving in its shadows.” Her amber eyes studied Naya’s face with shrewd intelligence. “Though I sense you didn’t come here to discuss architectural plans.”

Heat crept up Naya’s neck at the Khesh’s perceptive observation. “Actually, I wanted to understand how the magical infrastructure has been affected. Whether stopping the storm created any unexpected complications.”

“Ah.” Oshrun’s smile held knowing amusement. “A purely professional inquiry.”

“Of course.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that the magical grid is more stable than it’s been in decades. Thennin-eellithireturning to the Nnin-kka Sands has actually strengthened the existing containment systems.” Oshrun gestured toward a wall covered in diagrams that showed energy flow patterns across the region. “We’re seeing improved efficiency in all magical tools, longer operational periods, enhanced responsiveness.”

Relief flooded through Naya’s chest. Their desperate gamble had worked beyond all expectations, creating not just temporary salvation but lasting improvement. The guilt that had gnawed at her since learning the true cost of magical manipulation finally began to ease.

“That’s wonderful news,” she said.

“Yes, it is.” Oshrun set down the architectural drawing she’d been holding and moved to stand directly in front of Naya, amber eyes sharp with the kind of intensity that made her reputation as Khesh legendary. “Now, shall we discuss what you really came here to talk about?”

Naya frowned at her. “What?”

“You’re in love with him.”

The words hit like a slam to the chest, too accurate to deny yet too dangerous to acknowledge. Naya opened her mouth todeflect, to offer some diplomatic non-answer, but Oshrun’s gaze was steely.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” the Khesh said. “I can smell him on you from here. Can see the way your scent shifts when his name is mentioned. You’re mated to King Sy in everything but formal recognition.”

Heat crept up Naya’s neck, but she forced herself to meet Oshrun’s gaze directly. “My personal feelings are irrelevant. I have duties to my empire that supersede?—”

“Duties.” Oshrun’s voice held an edge that could cut glass. “Tell me, princess, what duty requires you to abandon the man who loves you enough to risk everything for your safety?”

“He doesn’t—” Naya began, then stopped as the protestation died on her tongue. She’d seen the way Akoro looked at her, felt the desperate intensity of his need in every touch, tasted the devotion in his kisses. Whatever name she wanted to put on his feelings, they ran deeper than mere political alliance.

“He does,” Oshrun said with absolute certainty. “And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you love him just as fiercely.”

The admission hovered between them, too true to voice yet impossible to ignore. Naya’s chest tightened with the force of emotions she’d been fighting since their return from the ritual site—the devastating rightness of being in Akoro’s arms, the way her entire world had narrowed to his presence, the growing certainty that walking away from him would tear something vital from her very soul.

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