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The sound filled the tent, warm and unguarded, and suddenly they both went still. Their eyes met in the flickering lamplight, and he saw his own realization reflected in her gaze—this was the first time they had laughed together. The first time he had laughed with her at all.

Something passed between them in that moment of recognition, a wordless connection that spoke of barriers dissolving, of intimacy that transcended the physical. The laughter faded into something quieter but no less significant.

She settled back against his chest, her breath warm against his skin. “I like the sound of your laugh,” she murmured.

He liked how it felt, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that. Pushing away the discomfort of what that might mean, he turned his attention back to her. “What about you?” His thumb stroked along her spine. “If you weren’t heir to the Lox Empire, what would you want to do?”

She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers resuming their gentle brushing movement on his chest. “I’d want to establish a school,” she said finally.

“Somewhere Omegas from different lands could come to study magic together, share techniques, preserve knowledge. Maybe attached to a great library where we could document everything we learned.”

The conviction in her voice when she spoke of her people sent a spark spiraling through him—not just desire, that was always there, but something deeper. Admiration for the woman who could envision a better future even while navigating the complexities of her impossible situation.

“You’d be brilliant at that,” he said quietly. “Teaching, organizing, building something lasting.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” His hand tightened in her hair with gentle possession.

“You have the mind for it—systematic but innovative. And the heart for it too. You’re curious and driven, and you care about others.

Teachers were always special in the villages here.

It’s how we even knew anything about our history. ”

She lifted her head again, studying his face with an intensity that made his chest tighten. “Sometimes I think we would have been good co-conspirators,” she said softly. “If we’d met differently. Under different circumstances.”

He nodded. “Allies.”

“Accomplices.” A smile was in her voice.

He grinned. “Criminal associates.”

“Unprincipled colluders.”

“Schemers.”

She was silent for a moment. “True mates.”

The words hit harder than they should have, carrying implications neither of them was ready to examine. Instead of responding, he rolled her beneath him, crushing her in an embrace full of possibilities and regret in equal measure.

Outside, the desert wind whispered against the tent walls, carrying the distant sounds of the camp settling for the night. But inside their small sanctuary, time felt suspended, precious and finite as the days counting down to the storm’s arrival.

That night was no different from the others, yet somehow it felt more significant.

He watched her braid her copper hair back from her face, her movements a little clumsy but confident, and he found himself memorizing details—the curve of her neck, the way her waist pinched in emphasized her perfect shape, the unconscious elegance with which she moved through her routine to leave him.

“I should go,” she said, catching his gaze in the polished metal that served as her mirror.

“Should you?” he murmured, rising from the bed in one fluid motion.

She watched his approach with darkening eyes, her heaving chest rising and falling with increased rhythm. When he reached her, he grabbed her waist with possessive certainty, drawing her against him until her softness surrendered to his hardness.

“The other women will be expecting me,” she said, but her protest lacked conviction.

“They can wait,” he said, his mouth finding the sensitive spot beneath her ear that never failed to make her sigh in that beautiful way that was just for him.

For a moment, she melted into his touch, her hands fisting in the fabric of his sleeping tunic. Then, with visible effort, she pulled back.

“I need to go, Akoro. But tomorrow...”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, releasing her with reluctance.

He carried her into the dark and watched her disappear, then turned to face another day of waiting.

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 truth about 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. “I used 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.”

“I’d like that too,” Oppo said softly. “I’ve missed how we used to be.”

“I will say, Oppo, I have enjoyed having you back since Naya arrived. You felt passionate about how she was treated, and I know why now.”

Oppo nodded, shooting him a wry look. “Your jealousy is insane, Akoro.”

He instinctively scowled, and Oppo chuckled.

For the first time in days, genuine warmth passed between them. Oppo carefully unfolded the drawing again, smoothing it against his knee. The stick figures looked back at them—Naya with her wild copper hair, little Nnimi with her carefully drawn braids.

“She’s clearly beautiful,” Akoro said, studying the child’s artwork. “And strong, like her mother.”

“Naya says she’s stubborn too. Tries to escape when it’s time to braid her hair.” Oppo’s voice carried a mixture of pride and longing that made Akoro’s chest tighten.

As they sat together for the morning, Akoro couldn’t help but notice the bitter irony of their situations.

Here was his brother, separated from his true mate by duty and circumstances, yearning for even a glimpse of the woman he loved and the child he’d never known.

While Akoro had his mate in his bed every night, yet lived with the constant knowledge that she wanted to leave him in days.

Oppo had everything that mattered—a connection that couldn’t be broken, a child that bonded him to Oshrun forever—but couldn’t touch any of it. Akoro had all the physical intimacy he craved, but nothing that would be allowed to last.

“I’ll speak to Naya tonight,” Akoro said finally. “We’ll find a way to arrange this meeting.”

Oppo’s smile was the first genuine one Akoro had seen from him in years. “Thank you, brother. But no. I agreed to respect the Omegas’ rules five years ago and I must continue to do so. At least now, there is a day in sight when we can be together. I’ll respectfully wait until then.”

The word carried more weight than anything Akoro had heard in a long time. Akoro found himself remembering what it meant to put family before crown, respect before selfish wants. It was a lesson he needed to learn, one that applied to his own impossible situation with his mate.

When the time came to choose between holding on and letting go, would he have his brother’s courage, or would his desire to possess prove stronger than honoring what she truly deserved?