He shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line. “Too much chaos, but it was undoubtedly deliberate. I will instruct the captain of the guard to send men to search our surroundings.”
He turned when he heard the measured approach of footsteps. A shadow fell across the sand—a tall, broad figure moving with the quiet authority of a seasoned soldier. The man’s leather armour bore the green and gold sigil of the Asadian royal army, dust clinging to the edges of his dark green cloak.
Tension left Alarik’s limbs, but he didn’t allow himself to sag beneath it. Instead, he adjusted his hold on Kaelen, freeing one arm just enough to clasp the man’s forearm in a firm warrior’s handshake.
“You and your men,” he said, “arrived like a damn miracle, Marzius. I’ve never been more relieved to see anyone.”
The man’s dark eyes swept the battlefield—Kaelen’s bloodied state,the mercenary corpses strewn across the sand, horses needing to be corralled, the clear aftermath of a hard-won fight. He took it all in with a calm, assessing gaze before speaking.
”Princes.” His voice was low, measured, and as steady as ever. “It’s good to see you both alive. Upon receiving your message, the king ordered us to find you without delay. Thankfully, we succeeded.”
Kaelen let out a wheezing laugh, though it quickly turned into a cough. “Alive, just a little worse for wear, Marzius. Still, I’m glad the Sparo reached my father. I was beginning to think it was intercepted.” He huffed, managing the ghost of a smirk. “Or eaten.”
Alarik exhaled, shaking his head before turning to Reiya. “May I present Princess Reiyana Elidris of Aethonia.”
To her, he said, “Ketra, this is Captain Marzius, commander of the Princes’ Guard—one of the bravest and most reliable men in Asadia.”
Marzius’s sharp gaze shifted to Reiya at the endearment, though he made no comment. He inclined his head in a respectful bow.
“Princess.”
Reiya nodded in return. “Thank you for coming when you did, Captain.”
Marzius gave a curt nod. “The men are preparing shelter. A healer is already waiting to tend to the Tazahrin’s wounds. Please, follow me.”
But before moving on, the captain gazed mildly at Kaelen. “I hope this incident will serve as a reminder if you still insist on travelling without guards in the future, Your Highness.”
Kaelen huffed a weak chuckle, his voice hoarse but still laced with wry amusement. “You won’t let me forget about this, will you?” He winced as he pressed a hand to his bleeding wound, then added dryly, “You’ll fuss every time I want to take a short ride to the market for orange juice.”
Marzius shook his head, muttering about reckless princes under his breath before leading them toward the healer.
Alarik shifted Kaelen’s weight and moved to follow Marzius. As he did, he caught Reiya’s gaze. Her attention lingered on a single detail, sharp and unyielding, as if the rest of the battlefield had faded around it.
Was it Jodhar’s corpse?
No—it was the arrow lodged in his forehead.
A faint breeze stirred, drawing his eyes to the blue cord tied just below the fletching, the colour standing out against the blood-darkened shaft. Alarik hadn’t noticed it before, but Reiya evidently had.
Her expression was too still, too focused, schooled into neutrality.
She’d seen something that alarmed her.
For now, he said nothing.
Chapter Forty
REIYANA
Captain Marzius’s men erected a yurt for them, sturdy and round; its wooden frame wrapped in thick canvas to keep out the desert chill. Inside, woven rugs in jewel-toned hues lined the floor. Colourful cushions were scattered near a low table holding a basin of cool water for washing. A stack of clean towels lay beside it. Animal pelts covered a bed, the fresh linens tucked beneath them, offering both warmth and a hint of indulgence.
After so many nights spent under the stars or crammed into a wagon, these simple comforts felt decadent. Beyond the canvas walls, the desert stretched endlessly, but here, in the quiet glow of a swaying lantern, they’d been granted a rare and precious reprieve.
Kaelen lay motionless on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The healer Captain Marzius brought had administered the sandshrike venom’s antidote, stabilizing him, and wrapped him in fresh bandages.
Relief flickered through her as she watched him. His breathing was stronger now, calm. His Sunborn tattoo pulsed with a steady glow.
For the first time since the Féraveli festival, he seemed truly at peace.
