Semua Bab By The Blood of The Omega: Bab 1 - Bab 10

AZIZAI heard my mother scream once in my life.It was when I was seven, a hunting accident. My father came home with an arrow through his shoulder and she made a sound I never forgot. She pressed her hand over her mouth after, ashamed of it.I heard her scream tonight. It didn't stop.I was in my chambers when the first explosion hit the east wall. The sound came up through the floor before it came through the air, a deep rolling boom that shook the water in my cup and knocked my mirror sideways on the dresser. I stood up. I stood there for three full seconds and then the second explosion hit and the screaming started everywhere at once and I ran.The corridors were in chaos, smoke so thick was pouring from the east wing. Servants ran past me in both directions, some carrying things, most carrying nothing, faces frozen with pure fear. Guards pushed against the current toward the noise, weapons drawn, shouting at everyone to get back, get down, get out!Someone grabbed my arm hard eno

RHYDIAN The door opened.Vessa came in, like she had been expected and was doing everyone a favour by arriving. She was dressed in a manner fitted for a ball."Am I interrupting?" she said, in a tone that made clear she knew she was and had decided that was fine."Rhydian was just explaining how we should be comfortable housing our new omegas," my father said.Vessa looked at me with warm, amused eyes. "He worries," she said to my father, like I wasn't in the room. "It's one of his qualities." She set her hand briefly on Bram's shoulder as she passed him, an easy familiar gesture, and took a seat at the table. "The south compound is being cleared for the Goldencrest inventory storage. There isn't space.""The storage can wait," I said."The gems can't." She picked up a piece of fruit from the table and turned it in her fingers. "Some of what was in the palace vault is delicate. It needs proper housing immediately." She smiled at me. "I'm sure the omegas will manage for another day or

AZIZAHe knew the compound in the dark the way I knew the servants' passages in the palace. I thought he had an impressive memory already. Every corner, every shadow, every place the torchlight didn't reach. We moved through it quickly and quietly and he didn't speak and I didn't speak and in seven minutes we were at the east gate and he stopped.He let go of my wrist.I resisted the urge to look at where he had been holding it."Tell me what you need," he said quietly. He was not looking at me. He was watching the gate.I stared at him. "What?""The conditions," he said. "In the holding area. What do they need?"I looked at him for a moment. "Water," I said carefully. "Access to it. The rope line is thirty feet from the nearest point and the guards aren't allowing movement after dark." I paused. "Shelter and heating. There are children in the group. It is cold in there."He nodded once, still not looking at me. "It will be addressed."He stepped back from the gate."Don't let me find

AZIZAWashing was supposed to be an easy task.That’s what Sena said when we were switched from kitchen duty to washing duty. She said it with the tone of someone who had been on every task within this camp.“Laundry,” she told us, “is mindless. Your hands do all the work, and your brain can relax.”My brain didn’t relax.While my hands went through the motions, my mind was anything but at ease. The camp surrounded me in its usual activity, with guards changing shifts, wolves going about their tasks, and the dull sound of a defeated community trying to survive under new leadership.It had been eight days. Eight days since I had surveyed the perimeter, remembered their shifts, seen ways in which the administration could be bypassed and done nothing at all because I couldn't come near to within a stone's throw of the other side for a good reason that wouldn't raise suspicions.I needed a good reason.That's what I was pondering over, twisting the laundry too much when Sena tapped me.“L

AZIZASena was awake when I returned.She sat upright in her bunk, knees drawn to her chest, and she gave me a sweeping look from head to toe as I crawled into the room, seeing the shirt, the salve on my jaw, the split lip, but saying nothing at first.“How bad is it?” she asked.I climbed up to my bunk, and I laid on my back staring up at the ceiling.“I can handle it,” I said.She was silent then she asked, “That’s his shirt?”“Get some sleep, Sena.” It was siesta time.She slept. Or she just stopped speaking, a difference only slightly significant when it came to Sena.I stared at the ceiling as I pressed my parents’ rings against my chest and considered the image of a wardrobe filled with dark cloth and a man who stared at my bruised jaw. I thought of the question I had asked, of the silence that swallowed up its reply. Of the shirt still clinging to me since my uniform underneath was dirty, and I had not planned far enough ahead to change that.The records room came to mind. The