“It’s not,” he said simply.
Reiya hesitated, her brows drawing together. “But it’s meant to be a Sunborn mark too, isn’t it?”
His jaw tightened, the old bitterness stirring at the edges of his thoughts. “It was supposed to be.”
She didn’t press, only tilted her head slightly, waiting. That quiet attention—the patience—made him continue.
“The Sunborn Trial is for Alpha children born from an Alpha father and an Omega mother. When ink made from crushed limyerite is mixed with a true Sunborn’s blood, it reacts. It glows.”
A brief pause. “That’s what makes Kaelen’s mark iridescent. It’s proof of Solthar’s blessing. His right to lead.”
Reiya’s lips parted slightly. “And yours?”
His hand tightened against the strap of his gauntlet.
“My mother insisted I take the trial,” he said, his voice roughening. “She was a Beta. She knew it was impossible for her son to be a Sunborn, but it didn’t matter. She wanted proof I was as precious as Kaelen. That she was as worthy as the queen. Even if it meant setting me up for failure.”
He laughed, but the sound held no amusement.
“The ink touched my blood, and it did nothing. No glow. No reaction. Just this.”
He flicked his fingers at the unfinished sun, the jagged lines harsh against his skin. “Solthar’s acolytes didn’t even deem it worth finishing.”
A breeze stirred, carrying the dry scent of sun-warmed earth between them. Reiya’s curls shifted with it, brushing lightly against his forearm as she leaned in. Her fingers hovered above the tattoo—not touching, but close—and when he finally met her gaze, there was no pity there.
“How old were you?” she asked softly.
“I was ten. Kaelen was six. We took the trial together.”
She shuddered and shook her head. He saw it—the way her expression flickered between horror, grief, and . . .understanding.
“You were only children,” she rasped.
“Both Kaelen and I Awakened early.”
“They say exceptional Alphas and Omegas present early.” A pause. “While I presented at twenty.”
His fingers itched to lift her chin, to hold her still. “You know as well as I—there is no pattern to it. No law to guide it. Some present early, some late. Some never at all. It simply happens.”
Her steady blue eyes shimmered with something unshed.
“Still,” she whispered, “you were just a boy. Neither of you should’ve had to . . .” She broke off, looking away, as if the weight of it was too much to put into words.
His gaze dropped to the unfinished tattoo, but it wasn’t the ink hesaw. It was Kaelen’s tear-streaked face, the way his small arm had trembled under the acolyte’s needle. Alarik had fared better—older, more stubborn, clenching his jaw against the pain and the humiliation. Yet, every sting had felt like a condemnation, a reminder of what he wasn’t and would never be.
“When I was older, I realized the trial wasn’t about me at all,” he said, his voice calm, though he couldn’t stop bitterness from seeping through. “It was about my mother. She wanted me to shine, to prove I was more than what she feared I’d always be—a Beta’s son, second to an Omega-born heir.”
His fingers flexed, curling into his palms. “She was so sure there’d been a mistake, that I’d been denied something owed to me. It didn’t matter that it was impossible for me to be Sunborn. She needed to believe I was special too.”
Reiya’s eyes narrowed, quiet outrage flickering across her face. “As if being an Alpha isn’t special already?”
He gave a rough chuckle, hollow at the edges. “It’s hard to feel special when you’re always standing next to a brighter flame.”
Her expression softened. “What happened after?”
“My mother died not long after. Fever.” He swallowed against the familiar, jagged burn of the memory. “Bit by bit, it stripped her down to nothing. Some days . . . I think it wasn’t the fever that killed her. I think it was the disappointment.”
Reiya flinched, the words striking her harder than he expected. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them thickened—fraught and heavy.
