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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

N aya’s legs trembled slightly as she made her way through the winding stone passages toward the communal dining area.

Her body ached—a delicious soreness that reminded her of hours spent tangled with Akoro, his hands mapping her skin, his mouth claiming every inch of her until she’d shattered again and again.

She’d returned last night as the canyon settled for the night. Despite falling straight asleep, exhaustion clung to her, but it felt distant compared to the satisfaction humming through her veins.

The arrangement they’d struck felt like claiming something that was hers by right—not forgiveness, not surrender, but acknowledgment.

She would take what she wanted from her mate while maintaining the boundaries she needed.

But even as she told herself this, the fire between them burned hotter than she expected.

Keeping her heart guarded might prove more challenging than she anticipated.

The scent of morning bread and brewing kkermo drifted through the canyon air, mixing with the mineral coolness of stone and the faint sweetness of desert flowers.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d barely eaten yesterday between negotiations and.

.. other activities. Akoro kept trying to make her eat, but she was more interested in dragging her tongue over his skin.

As she rounded the final corner, raised voices echoed off the canyon walls. The communal dining area buzzed with more energy than usual; clusters of women engaged in animated discussions that quieted as she approached.

“—absolutely reckless to trust him after everything his family did,” Zhera’s sharp voice cut through the morning air.

The young warrior stood near one of the low tables, her dark eyes blazing with conviction as she faced two older women.

Her warrior’s harness was visible beneath her flowing garments, her locks pulled back, as though she was planning to train.

“You speak as though we have no agency in this,” said one of the women. “As though we cannot negotiate terms that protect us.”

“Terms?” Zhera’s voice pitched higher. “What terms could possibly guarantee our safety when dealing with the Sy Dynasty? They enslaved our ancestors, destroyed our families?—”

“And this king killed his own family to stop those crimes,” the second woman pointed out, her tone measured but firm. “Maybe it’s time to consider that circumstances have changed.”

Zhera’s jaw clenched. “You’re being naive if you think?—”

“Princess!” A small voice cut through the debate, bright with joy.

Naya turned to see Nnimi racing toward her, the little girl’s face lit with delight. She wore a cheerful yellow tunic that made her golden-brown eyes sparkle.

“Good morning, little Nnimi,” Naya said, crouching down to catch the child in her arms. Nnimi threw herself into the embrace with uninhibited affection. She wasn’t shy this morning.

“Will you play with me today?” Nnimi asked, pulling back to study Naya’s face with hopeful eyes. “And read, too? And draw? Mima said you might be very busy, but maybe just for a little bit?”

“We’ll see what the day brings,” Naya said gently, smoothing down a rebellious curl that had escaped Nnimi’s braids. “But I’ll try to find some time for you.”

Nnimi beamed and hugged her again before scampering back toward the other children, leaving Naya to rise and face the continued debate.

The argument between Zhera and the older women had drawn a small crowd, voices rising and falling in passionate discussion. Some showed excitement, others deep concern. A few women sat apart, clearly overwhelmed by the prospect of such monumental change.

“Naya.” Oshrun’s voice carried across the space, calm and authoritative despite the chaos. The Khesh approached with her usual measured grace. “When you’re ready, I’d like to speak with you.”

Naya nodded, accepting a bowl of porridge and a cup of kkermo from a passing server before following Oshrun toward a quieter alcove. It was close enough to see Nnimi but removed from the lively debate.

“King Sy agreed to the terms?” Oshrun asked, settling onto a carved stone bench.

Naya joined her and took a sip of kkermo , the rich bitterness sending warmth spreading through her chest, chasing away the last of her fatigue.

“All of them,” Naya said. “Recognition of Ilǐa as its own district, protection during integration, continued control over magical maintenance. He agreed immediately. I think he really wanted a solution that could protect his people.”

Something relaxed in Oshrun’s shoulders. “Good. That gives us a foundation to build on.” She paused, studying Naya’s face with those perceptive eyes. “Is there more?”

“I need to start learning how your magical tools work. If I’m going to find a way to stop the storm, I need full knowledge of your capabilities.”

“Of course. We can start with basic crystal resonance this morning.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the discord of voices continuing in the background. “I assume discussions didn’t go well yesterday?” Naya gestured to the dining area.

“Actually, better than I thought,” Oshrun said. “Once they realized we wouldn’t be leaving the canyon or opening it up to the general population any time soon, if ever, that changed the tone.”

“How common is it for them to debate like this?”

“Not often. But this is a huge change. Whenever big decisions are made there are always some who will argue against them, but they come around. The community doesn’t like to prolong public disagreements for the sake of the children.”

Naya spooned porridge into her mouth. “I doubt Zhera will come around for a long time. She’s very passionate about this considering her age.”

Oshrun sighed, a troubled look flickering across her features as she watched the young warrior in the distance.

“Most women her age would be curious about the possibilities beyond these walls. But Zhera...” She paused, seeming to weigh her words carefully.

“It would take something very significant to change her mind. Her convictions run deep.”

Naya studied Oshrun’s expression, sensing there was more the Khesh wasn’t saying.

Everyone here carried their own wounds, their own reasons for the choices they’d made.

Zhera’s fervent opposition reminded Naya strongly of Mother Freya— that same rigid certainty born from trauma, that unwillingness to consider that circumstances might have changed.

She recalled her conversation with the old woman, how Mother Freya had insisted Naya was capable of much more magically, but that she needed proper guidance.

“Do you believe we can do it?” she suddenly asked Oshrun. “Stop the storm?”

Oshrun glanced at her. “If we combine our skills and abilities, yes. Why do you ask?”

Naya shrugged. “It’s just that wild magic has always been unpredictable. Kaharine came here and underestimated it—didn’t understand it.” She shot Oshrun a sideways glance. “You said history repeats itself when I first arrived.”

Oshrun shook her head. “I did, but that’s not what I meant by that. Besides, Kaharine is the reason any Omegas still exist in the region.” She studied Naya’s profile. “Maybe you’ll be the reason we’re here for another eighty years.”

Naya smiled, hope blooming warm in her chest for these women and their hidden sanctuary. She wanted that for them—wanted to see this community thrive and grow, to watch the Omegas reclaim their place in the world.

Yet beneath the hope lurked something more troubling.

If she succeeded here, if she helped broker this alliance and stopped the storm, she would return home changed.

Not just through the knowledge she’d gained or the skills she’d learned, but by him.

By the way Akoro looked at her, touched her, made her feel things she’d never imagined possible.

The intensity of their connection the night before had shaken something loose inside her, something she wasn’t sure she could put back the way it was.

“So what has happened between you and Akoro? Something good, I’m guessing.”

Embarrassment flared across Naya’s neck. Was her satisfaction so obvious? “Things are... progressing. I’ll be spending more time at his camp as we work on combining our knowledge.”

Oshrun hid her smile behind her kkermo cup, raising an eyebrow. “I see.”

Naya was glad Oshrun seemed pleased rather than concerned.

She didn’t want her thinking she would prioritize Akoro over the Omegas.

He might be her true mate but they weren’t going to be together.

In all honesty, Akoro had offered a brilliant solution.

There was no denying the attraction between them, and if they weren’t going to be together permanently, it was painful to keep fighting it.

At least now, neither of them had to. When she returned home after the storm, it would end—no negotiations, no complications.

Just the understanding that when her work here was finished, she would leave everything behind.

It should have felt liberating, yet something about the open-ended nature made her stomach flutter with unease.

She’d told him clearly that she wouldn’t give herself to him the way he wanted, and he’d accepted that.

But the intensity of their coupling had been overwhelming, far beyond what she’d anticipated when she’d agreed.

It was like she could suddenly breathe—like she was free to be the Omega she should have been with him, with no guilt or compromise clouding the connection.

The voices in the dining area had lowered now, and Naya set her empty bowl and cup down. “I saw Oppo yesterday,” she said, watching Oshrun. “He’s with Akoro in the sand drift.”

Oshrun went very still, her cup halfway to her lips. “He’s here? In the Isshiran Sands?”

“Yes.”

Oshrun blinked repeatedly, her breathing changing. Hand trembling, she placed her cup down and tried to compose herself. “How is he?”