Kaelen shot him a glare. “I trained under one of her sworn sisters,” he muttered before turning to her. “I swear on Solthar’s name.”
She grinned at his discomfort but let her mind linger on the implications.
Solmaz had access to knowledge few could piece together. If highborn Omegas were vanishing, she would’ve noticed.
And if Castiel was involved, he wasn’t just an opportunist.
He was playing a much bigger game.
“Look ahead, Reiya,” Alarik called. He pointed to a shimmer in the distance, where the sands seemed to ripple. “That’s Mezerin.”
Rising from the desert like a mirage, the city’s golden walls gleamed in the sun, their hue blending so seamlessly with the sands, they seemed to shift and waver with the heat.
She whispered the name, savouring it like something sacred. “Asadia.”
The moment felt surreal, too vast to fully grasp. Mere weeks ago, reaching Asadia had been as distant as the stars. Yet here she was, the kingdom growing closer with every beat of Ember’s hooves.
As they neared, Mezerin’s sandstone walls rose in full splendour, adorned with painted tiles in deep azure, emerald, and gold. Above, banners bearing the sigil of House Asad—a coiled serpent encircled by a sunburst—snapped in the wind.
The great gates, carved with desert motifs, groaned open, their movement smooth despite their immense size. A contingent of bronze-armoured soldiers stepped forward, bowing in unison as they passed. The horses slowed instinctively, their hooves muffled against the polished stone roads.
Cheers erupted from the gathering crowd, voices bright with welcome. Reiya watched as Kaelen and Alarik lifted their hands in greeting, their ease and familiarity with their people unmistakable. Something stirred in her chest—a quiet pride in the way they belonged here.
As she turned forward, the city unfurled before her, grander than she’d ever imagined. Sunlit terracotta buildings lined the streets, their balconies overflowing with cascading vines in full bloom. The air was thick with the scent of woodfire and fresh bread, warm spices, and the faint sweetness of orange blossoms.
At the heart of the city, an oasis stretched wide, larger than Vey’tar, its waters a glimmering sapphire framed by lush greenery. Towering date palms swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds casting dappled shade over vibrant market stalls and bustling thoroughfares. Beyond it all, Turasid Palace loomed, its domed silhouette reigning over the city.
Alarik gestured toward the water’s edge. “That’s Nafara Oasis—thelargest in the Numeria, the heart of Mezerin. Its name comes from two Asadian words:nafariandfarasha—breath and blossom.”
Reiya exhaled, eyes lingering on the oasis. “No description could do it justice.”
Kaelen guided Shahram alongside Ruhasul and Ember. “The gods’ gift, they call it. A symbol of life and prosperity. The canals from Nafara reach every corner of Mezerin and beyond—it sustains everything.”
Her gaze swept over the bustling streets. Despite the unforgiving desert, Mezerin thrived with abundance. Children darted along the sunlit roads, vendors called from vibrant market stalls, and the faint melody of a lute wove through the warm air.
Curious faces peered from doorways, little ones laughing as they chased after the horses. Slowly, more townspeople emerged, drawn by the sight of the returning princes—and the foreign princess who rode between them.
A knot tightened in Reiya’s throat as the weight of unfamiliar eyes settled on her. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, tasting the lingering dryness.
What did they see?
Her fingers drifted to the edge of her shawl, as if the fabric itself could offer an answer. Was she a curiosity? A trespasser? An Omega princess far from home, caught between expectation and uncertainty?
But the memory of the Xians anchored her—bright and warm against doubt’s creeping edge. Xian Jun’s grumbling over her cooking, yet never leaving a bite uneaten. Su Lian’s patient hands guiding hers through delicate embroidery. Ru Rong slipping steamed buns into her satchel to take to the stall. Mei Mei’s bright chattering by the fire.
Small moments, but ones that had woven into her, stitch by stitch, until they became part of her.
Trust could be earned, not demanded. And if the Xians had taught her anything, it was that sincerity, given freely, could unravel suspicion into something softer.
Reiya straightened, letting that thought carry her. Her hands, which had clenched uncertainly around the reins, began to loosen. She lifted one in greeting, a slow smile blooming on her lips.
At first, the response was hesitant—then it surged. Children waved colourful flags and tossed petals into the air. Adults bowed and curtsied warmly, showering their path with fragrant blooms.
A young girl darted forward, an orange clutched in her small hands. Wide-eyed, hesitant, she offered it up. Reiya bent to accept the fruit, its skin warm from the sun. The sharp tang of citrus clung to her fingertips.
“Thank you,” she murmured, smiling at the girl.
Kaelen rode up beside her, grinning. “It’s almost as if they were expecting us. Remarkable timing, wouldn’t you say?”
