Page 33 of Storms of His Wrath

Why did she feel so terrible? She knew it was the right thing to do, but then why did it hurt? If she couldn’t make this decision without feeling like her heart was being torn from her chest,how could she possibly rule an empire? How could she advise Omegas when she was so devastated about giving up on a mate that had treated her so badly?

The sound of approaching footsteps came through her furs, soft sandals slapping against stone, growing closer until they paused outside her chamber. Naya held her breath, hoping whoever it was would assume she was sleeping and move on. She wasn’t ready to face questions, to pretend her world hadn’t shifted on its axis during those hours in Akoro’s arms.

“Naya?” Oshrun’s voice carried gentle concern. “It’s time for the evening meal.”

Naya squeezed her eyes shut, pulling the furs tighter around her shoulders. “I’m not hungry,” she managed, though her voice cracked on the words.

The silence stretched long enough that Naya almost believed Oshrun had left. Then fabric rustled as the Khesh settled onto the stone floor just outside the chamber entrance, her presence patient and undemanding.

“Nnimi has been asking for you,” Oshrun said softly. “She spent the afternoon making special drawings. She’s very proud of them and wants to show you.”

Guilt twisted through Naya’s chest. The little girl’s bright smile, her infectious laughter, the way she’d clung to Naya’s hand during their games. She deserved better than a broken princess hiding in her chambers like a child.

Slowly, reluctantly, Naya pushed back the furs and sat up. Her eyes felt swollen and gritty from crying, her hair tangled from hours of restless movement. She must have looked as wrecked as she felt.

“Give me a moment,” she rasped, reaching for the washbasin beside her sleeping platform. The cool water against her face cleared some of the fog from her mind. She finger-combed her copper hair into something resembling order and smoothed theworst wrinkles from her clothes. When she emerged from the chamber, Oshrun was waiting with the kind of patient stillness that suggested years spent reading the moods of others.

The Khesh’s eyes swept over Naya’s face, taking in every detail—the redness around her eyes, the hollow look of someone who’d been crying for hours, the careful way she held herself as though movement might shatter something vital. But Oshrun didn’t pry, didn’t ask questions that would force her to try and give an explanation. Instead, she simply nodded and began walking toward the communal dining area, her pace unhurried.

“The assembly may need to speak with you again,” Oshrun said as they navigated the winding stone paths. “We’re still deliberating about the storm situation so you are invited to stay until we decide.”

Naya found her voice, though it came out deeper and rougher. “What exactly is the assembly’s purpose? Are they like a council?”

“In some ways.” Oshrun paused to let a group of children race past them, their laughter echoing off the canyon walls. “They represent different segments of our community—those who work in the districts, the mothers with children, the elders who remember earlier days, the younger Omegas who see different possibilities for our future. They gather to advise me on big decisions that will affect everyone in Ilia. They are considered a very important process of how we govern ourselves.”

They turned a corner, and the scent of roasted vegetables and spiced grain began to perfume the evening air. Naya’s stomach, which had felt hollow and twisted all afternoon, gave a tentative rumble.

“Is it the same twelve women every time?” Naya asked, grateful for the distraction of logistics and structure.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes different perspectives are needed for different issues.” Oshrun’s sandals whispered against stone as they climbed toward the dining area. “Today’s discussion about the storm required voices from those who understand magical theory, those who’ve observed King Sy’s rule firsthand, and those who remember what life was like before we had this sanctuary.”

The dining area came into view, already filled with the warm sounds of evening conversation and clinking dishware. Lanterns cast pools of golden light across the stone surfaces, and the familiar sight of women and children gathered around low tables sent a flutter of comfort through Naya’s chest.

Then she spotted Nnimi, her small face lighting up like sunrise the moment she saw Naya approaching. The little girl bounced in her seat, waving frantically with a piece of flatbread clutched in her free hand.

“Princess! Princess, look what I made!” Her voice carried pure delight.

Despite everything, Naya found herself smiling. Some wounds might be too deep for a child’s joy to heal. But others, the ones that lived closer to the surface, responded to that infectious brightness like flowers turning toward the sun.

Nnimi bounced toward them, waving a piece of parchment covered in colorful drawings. “Princess! Look what I made! It’s you and me playing sea monster!”

The little girl’s artwork was charming in the way only a child’s could be—stick figures with wild hair and enormous smiles, surrounded by what might have been cushions or perhaps ocean waves. Naya found herself genuinely delighted.

“It’s beautiful, Nnimi,” she said, crouching down to the child’s level. “Look at us! Wow. You’re very talented. Can I keep this?”

Nnimi beamed and nodded, then scampered back to her table where the other children were already deep in animated conversation about their day’s adventures. Oshrun guided Naya toward a different table, one occupied by several adult women whose conversation quieted as they approached.

Naya settled onto a cushion among the adults, accepting the bowl of aromatic stew that was placed before her. Steam rose from chunks of tender vegetables and grains swimming in rich, herb-scented broth. Despite her earlier claims of having no appetite, the first spoonful sent warmth spreading through her chest, chasing away some of the hollow ache that had consumed her afternoon.

Around her, the gentle murmur of evening conversation mixed with children’s laughter from nearby tables. The familiar ritual of shared meals began to unfold; platters being passed, bowls being filled, the comfortable rhythm of a community gathering at day’s end.

Maybe she could manage one evening. Maybe, for Nnimi’s sake, she could pretend her world hadn’t become as unsteady as the Isshiran Sands.

The meal progressed with the routine like at breakfast, with bowls being passed, quiet conversations flowing around shared platters. Naya found herself enjoying it. Nnimi’s artwork lay carefully folded beside her bowl, making her smile whenever she looked at it.

As the food disappeared and the children grew restless, some began to disperse. A few women gathered the little ones for bedtime rituals, while most lingered over the last of their tea. The dining area became quieter, and many lowered their voices for deeper conversations. Oshrun settled back against her cushions, her hands cradling a ceramic cup of steaming brew as she explained to Naya about the way they navigate the districts.

Naya studied the faces around her—women who had built lives of purpose and meaning within these canyon walls. Yet as she watched them, she couldn’t shake the sense that something was missing from their carefully constructed world. The thought of Akoro flickered through her mind unbidden, the way he held her, touched her, his absolute devotion despite everything. These women had chosen safety over such complications, but at what cost?

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