“I’ll warn Marzius,” he said firmly. “We need to secure the camp, increase the watch. If Castiel himself—or his agents—are this close . . .”
He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. Then, his hand found her shoulder, his grip steady. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his embrace.
Reiya let herself sink into him, the weight of the day pressing downon her. She closed her eyes, resting against him, taking solace in his warmth.
‘Just for a moment,’she told herself.‘Let me find haven before I have to face my enemy again.’
His lips brushed her temple, breath warm against her skin.
“I hate what he’s doing to you,” he murmured, his voice low and fierce. “Hunting you, shadowing your every step. I swear, Reiya—we’ll find him. And we’ll end this.”
Her chest tightened at the promise, her fingers curling briefly into his tunic. As much as she wanted to hold onto the moment, she knew the reprieve wouldn’t last. Castiel’s shadow loomed too large, his intentions shrouded in danger and mystery. They still didn’t know what he wanted, what he was willing to do, or what lines he’d already crossed.
When Alarik finally stepped back, his forefinger traced the dark circle beneath her eye.
“Rest, I beg you.” His tone left no room for argument. “Leave this to me.”
Reiya nodded, but her mind churned as she watched him leave. Alone, she shook her head to clear her thoughts, drew a deep inhale and released it. She must remain calm, sort out her thoughts with clarity, not impulse.
Yes, perhaps Castiel wasn’t the man she thought he was—but she hadn’t been the woman she thought she was, either.
In that regard, they were more than evenly matched.
The tent flap lifted again, and she looked up. “That was quick?—”
She froze, her breath hitching. The person who entered wasn’t Alarik. He was a stranger, moving with quiet precision. His face was shrouded in shadows, but the glint of steel at his hip confirmed he wasn’t unarmed.
Her heart pounded as she slowly rose and stepped forward. Gripping the blade in her pocket, she slipped it free and asked, “Who are you?”
The figure turned slightly, the dim light catching the sharp planes of his face—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, the regal bearing of a man accustomed to command. His features were hard, but not unkind, thedeep lines at the corners of his mouth hinting at both sternness and experience.
“Who are you?” she pressed, fingers curling tighter around the blade handle.
The figure didn’t answer, his silence unnerving as he turned fully toward her, showing no sign of distress. He was well-dressed—his cloak fine and expertly tailored, the hilt of his scimitar gleaming at his side. Despite the travel dust clinging to his boots, his grooming was impeccable—beard neatly trimmed, dark hair streaked with silver at the temples.
Before she could react, another shadow moved at the tent entrance.
“Reiya,” Alarik’s calm voice cut through the tension. “It’s alright.”
She froze, her gaze darting between him and the stranger. “Alarik, who is this?”
He stepped inside. “Not an assassin,” he said, then added gently, “He’s my father.”
Recognition struck like a lightning bolt, the realization stealing the air from her lungs. Kaelen’s jawline. Alarik’s chin. The golden eyes, so much like theirs. The pieces fit together with jarring finality.
“Princess Reiyana, I presume,” the man said, his voice low yet steeped in authority. “I am Azarion. We meet at last.”
Her blade slipped from her fingers as she dropped into a swift curtsy, heat creeping up her cheeks. “Apologies, Your Majesty. I thought?—”
“That I was an assassin sent to slaughter the Ethereal Sovereign, Tazahrin Kaelendrin Asad, in his sleep?”
The sharpness in his tone sent her heart tumbling, but she met his gaze with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I did think that.”
Azarion’s brow lifted, his head tilting slightly as if appraising her. “It’s been some time since anyone dared to point a blade at me. The sensation . . . is surprisingly nostalgic.”
“She was protecting Kaelen,” Alarik interjected, his tone bristling with thinly veiled defensiveness. “Don’t turn it into something else.”
