Page 85 of Storms of His Wrath

“Love isn’t enough,” she said finally, the words bitter on her tongue. “I’m heir to the Lox Empire. My people need me.”

“Your people need you to be whole,” Oshrun said. “They need you to lead from strength, not from the hollow shell you’ll become if you force yourself to abandon your true mate.”

The brutal honesty of the statement made Naya recoil as though struck. “You don’t understand the complexities?—”

“I understand that you’re making the same mistake I nearly made with Oppo.” Oshrun’s expression softened with painful empathy. “Choosing duty over love, sacrifice over happiness, telling yourself that noble suffering serves some greater good.”

“You separated from Oppo to protect your community.”

“I separated from Oppo because I was terrified.” The admission rang with unflinching honesty. “I should have fought then for us to integrate; it would have given him years with his daughter.” Oshrun moved closer, her amber eyes blazing with the wisdom of hard experience. “But love doesn’t weaken us, princess. It completes us. It makes us capable of things we never imagined possible.”

Naya’s throat closed around words she couldn’t voice. The truth in Oshrun’s words resonated through her bones, awakening desires she’d been fighting to suppress. “I can’t abandon my empire.”

“Who said anything about abandoning it?” Oshrun’s voice held gentle challenge. “You’re thinking like someone who believes love requires the surrender of everything else that matters. But true partnership expands possibilities—it doesn’t eliminate them.”

The suggestion sent a thrill of possibility through Naya’s chest. A partnership…. with Akoro. Could that work? Had he changed enough for it?

“These are challenges to be solved, not insurmountable barriers,” Oshrun said, as if reading her mind. She moved to the chamber’s main window, gazing out at the thriving community below. “King Sy has already proven his capacity for growth, for change, for putting love before conquest. The question is whether you’re brave enough to match his courage.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I questioned him, he clearly said he was prepared to give up his throne for you.”

“I know,” she whispered. Naya had seen that look in Akoro’s eyes—the one that said she was more important than kingdoms, more vital than duty, more precious than life itself. She’d felt it in the desperate way he held her after they’d stopped the storm, as though convinced she might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“If King Sy is prepared to sacrifice everything for love, don’t you think your empire would benefit from an alliance with someone capable of that level of devotion?”

The political implications struck Naya like lightning. An alliance between their empires wouldn’t just be advantageous—it would be transformative. Trade routes, magical knowledge, military cooperation, the exchange of techniques that could benefit both lands...

“You’re talking about marriage,” she said, the word barely audible.

“I’m talking about partnership. The kind that expands both your worlds instead of diminishing them.” Oshrun’s voice grew gentle, understanding. “The kind that your parents built when they chose each other.”

The mention of her parents sent a sharp pang through Naya’s chest. They had built something extraordinary together—not just love, but a dynasty that benefited millions of people. Their partnership had been political as much as personal, strategic as much as romantic.

“But they also didn’t save each other’s kingdoms, didn’t forge alliances that prevented magical catastrophes, didn’t prove their worth through shared sacrifice.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “You and King Sy have already built something together. The question is whether you’re brave enough to claim it.”

The words resonated through Naya’s chest with devastating truth. She and Akoro had built something together—trust bornfrom conflict, partnership forged in crisis, love that had survived betrayal and grown stronger through adversity. They’d proven their ability to work as a team, to balance each other’s strengths and compensate for weaknesses.

Oshrun’s words echoed through Naya’s mind as she made her way back through the canyon pathways, past workshops buzzing with activity and gardens blooming with new growth. Children’s laughter followed her up the winding stairs, while the scent of success and hope perfumed the air she breathed.

This was what courage looked like—the willingness to risk everything for the possibility of something better. These women had emerged from generations of hiding to claim their place in the world, building alliances and sharing knowledge despite the dangers. They’d chosen growth over safety, contribution over isolation.

Could she do the same?

As she reached the canyon entrance where the afternoon sunlight painted the desert in shades of gold and crimson, Naya found herself thinking about the future. Not the carefully planned trajectory as heir to the Lox Empire, but the possibility of something entirely new. Something built on partnership rather than duty, love rather than obligation.

The protective magic carried her across the Isshiran Sands with familiar ease, but her mind remained focused on Oshrun’s challenge.You and King Sy have already built something together. The question is whether you’re brave enough to claim it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The palace dungeons stretched beneath Onn Kkulma like ancient veins carved from living rock, reinforced with steel that had witnessed centuries of suffering. Torchlight flickered against damp stone walls, casting dancing shadows that writhed with malevolent life. The air hung thick with the scent of old blood and despair, a stench that clung to everything and whispered of horrors these chambers had absorbed.

Akoro descended the narrow stairs with controlled purpose, each footfall echoing against stone that had once imprisoned the Omegas his family had enslaved. The irony burned through him—bringing Otenyo to the same cells where innocent women had suffered while his ancestors grew fat on stolen power. But unlike those long-dead victims, the treacherous soge would receive exactly the justice he deserved.

The dungeon air pressed against his skin like a living thing, heavy with the accumulated anguish of generations. These stones had absorbed screams, tears, the desperate pleas of women torn from their families and forced into servitude. Every breath he took in this accursed place reminded him of the legacy he’d spent years trying to purge from his bloodline.

Iron hinges shrieked as he pushed open the heavy door to the interrogation chamber. Otenyo sat chained to a stone wall, his scarred face bearing fresh bruises from Nrommo’s enthusiastic questioning. But his dark eyes held no remorse, no fear—only the cold satisfaction of a man convinced his cause was righteous.

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