“You wished to see me, Majesty,” Tor’en said from just outside the tent, voice as stiff as his back ever was when angered.
“Come inside,” Er’it said, grabbing Ath’asho’s attention with a brisk wave before hauling Tor’en inside. Shoving a hand through his hair to restore some order, he paid no attention to the sound of pained horror that fled over Tor’en’s lips or the way Ath’asho’s shoulders tensed as he came into the tent and saw the Omega crouched beside the tray.
“Ath’asho, what lands are nearest here,” Er’it asked, pacing the breadth of the tent as he stared hard at the Omega’s bowed head.
“None. Aeslomor, where we just came from. There are some few tribes scattered north, but they have no seat or true ruler.”
“Not true,” Tor’en said, rubbing at his temples with one gnarled hand. “There are stories that there was a kingdom once in some of those books I collected. The Black Mage destroyed the land, absorbed it into his empire though he left it much alone after stealing away its greatest treasure and…”
“And,” Er’it asked, lips turning up into a victorious smile as he prompted Tor’en to finish.
“It’s greatest treasure and power,” Tor’en said, trailing off into a considering hum as his bushy gray eyebrows slammed together, eyes in sullen shadows and masking his thoughts from Er’it.
“What did they look like?” Er’it grabbed the Omega, stripping away the ruined coat to show the extent of her pale, golden skin. Fisting the dark curls that were similar to those of his people, and yet so very different in its texture and fullness. “She’s not of the sands. No amount of sun will darken her skin enough for that. And her hair, it’s so different, and it has red in it.”
“Er’it, you’re hurting her,” Tor’en murmured, brow furrowing as his hand drifted towards the Omega before falling flat at his side.
“What does that matter?” Er’it hand swung up, arcing through the air with impatience at his old tutor’s scowl. “The important thing is that—”
“Have you lost every ounce of your humanity, boy, that you do not care that you’ve reduced her to-to… this,” Tor’en exploded, robes flapping as he waved his arms to take in the cowering woman at Er’it’s side. “Look at her tears, Er’it, her pain, and truly see them! She is not a thing, but a person. A living, breathing woman who did not ask to be this thing you covet so. If those old tales are true, then she knows nothing of herself.”
“Tor’en, why not take the air,” Ath’asho murmured, his hand closing over the old mage’s arm to still its enraged gesticulating.
“Let him finish,” Er’it said through a low growl.
“Every kill you made, I prayed to the Hat’or it would be enough for you. It will never be, will it? Your lust of the power has far exceeded its need. You could conquer this entire continent with what is at your fingertips even now, yet you would murder this child to have yet more.”
“I murder no one, old man,” Er’it said with a snarl, wrenching the Omega into his side when she would have sunk to the floor on legs gone watery and loose. “Each of them a sacrifice for the Hat’or, for the promises they made me with their visions of power and victory.”
“You are no different from Otaso. Craving that which will ultimately be your destruction. How much longer can you continue on like this Er’it, before you begin to take your own people? How far will you go in this relentless search for a power that will kill you?”
“I am nothing like him,” Er’it roared. Crushing the Omega to his side, hearing her wail of pain from a long way off, he snarled at Tor’en. “He could not take what I have!”
“And so because you stole what innocence the girl had left to her, that makes you somehow better than him?”
“You think her innocent? Pah!” Er’it shook the Omega, her whines and flinching failing to incite his passion as they had before. His anger surging in a brilliant sunburst that sizzled under his skin that she failed to do so. Baring his teeth, Er’it jerked her arm high, pulling her to her toes. “She lies with every one of those fat tears, old man. It all fades to ash on the wind the moment I touch her. Last night she stole my magic, sucked me dry of it even as I leeched it from her blood. She revels in the pain.”
“Why can’t you—wait, you say she pulled your magic from you?” Tor’en fell back onto his heels hard, swaying as if in a strong wind, dark gaze pulled towards the Omega as the thick bristles of his eyebrows knit.
“Yes.” Gruff and curt, Er’it shrugged his shoulder, struggling to relieve the tension of admitting his moment of vulnerability to the two males.
“Interesting.” Tuneless hum expelled on a sigh, Tor’en edged closer to the woman though he was careful to keep some distance. Acknowledging Er’it’s quiet growl of warning by pulling his hands back and tucking them into the wide sleeves of his dusty green robe. “She’s done it before?”
“First time I used my magic on her like that.”
“Very interesting.”
“You used it on her before. When you tied her to the back of Kal,” Ath’asho said, shifting his bulk with an uncomfortable roll of broad shoulders. Refusing to look at the trembling woman Er’it kept plastered against his side.
“To keep her still for a few moments. Not for… what I did last night.”
“You tried to torture her,” Tor’en asked in a hiss, eyes wide enough to show the whites as he swung an accusing finger towards Er’it.
“She was lying to me,” Er’it shouted, shoving Tor’en back a stumbling pace. His nearness making Er’it skin crawl with something he didn’t quite understand.
“I’m not,” the Omega whined.
“Silence,” Er’it roared, and now the presence of the other
