Before she could respond, Captain Marzius cleared his throat. His expression remained unreadable, but a gleam of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
“One of the men I sent ahead to secure the Mezerin Gates might’ve . . . let slip that a certain Omega princess was on her way.”
Kaelen raised a brow. “Might have, Captain?”
Marzius straightened, unapologetic. “The people deserve to celebrate, and the princess deserves a proper welcome.”
Reiya glanced back at the crowd, overwhelmed by their warmth. Her chest swelled, her voice soft. “You’re right, Captain. This welcome is more than I could’ve imagined.”
Kaelen leaned in, smirking. “Careful, Reiya, or Marzius will write this into the history books and take credit for organizing the whole event.”
Alarik, dry as ever, added, “He’d inscribe it on the palace walls if given the chance.”
Laughter rippled between them, light and easy, loosening the tension of the ride. But as the people crowded the sidewalks—faces bright with curiosity and hope—something shifted in her chest.
“This isn’t a moment to greet from horseback,” she murmured.
Then, without waiting, she swung down from the saddle. Her boots met the earth with a soft thud. “I’ll meet them properly.”
Alarik and Kaelen exchanged a glance but didn’t stop her. They followed suit, moving instinctively—silent shields at her back, a presence she didn’t need to look for to know was there.
The moment shattered what hesitation remained. The crowdpressed in—women and children placing flowers and fruits in her arms. Desert marigolds and bougainvillea spilled from her grasp, their colours loud against sun-worn stone. The scent of citrus rose thickly in the heat—sweet oranges, sharp lemons, and the dusky tang of grapefruit.
She knew Asadia was the largest citrus producer in the nine kingdoms. But here, it felt like more than trade. It felt like tradition. Like home.
Baskets brimmed with colour, but it was the pomegranates that made her blush—pressed into her hands by older women whose smiles were knowing, eyes bright with mischief.
She didn’t need them to explain.
Fertility. Prosperity. Quiet prayers tucked inside each seed.
And whether she was ready or not, they’d already begun to believe in her.
Kaelen and Alarik, along with the soldiers, kept a respectful distance, letting her move freely while staying close enough to intervene if needed. The unspoken trust between the princes and their people struck deep. It was rare, precious—a thread binding ruler and subject together. It reminded her of Nymaris’s marketplaces, where she’d wandered without fear, secure in the strength of her father’s reign.
To be part of this kingdom so different, yet built on the same values, eased the last of her unease.
Their procession moved on, the townspeople waving farewell and calling out blessings. She waved back and mounted Ember once more, moving toward Turasid Palace. Its gates stood open, waiting.
Reiya exhaled slowly. The people had welcomed her, but what about the nobility? Courts were a stark contrast—places of cunning and exclusivity, where judgment was swift and whispered words carried power.
She could only hope the warmth of the city hadn’t been left behind at its gates.
Ruhasul trotted over, Alarik leaning in. “Still anxious?”
She swallowed. “I just want to make a good impression.”
“You already did. I’ve never seen a warmer welcome.”
“I meant in front of your family.”
“You’ve already met our father. The worst is behind us.”
“Still, there’s the Lady Consort, your sister . . .”
He reached for her hand. “Lady Neda is warm and kind, and as for Thalina—she’s been desperate for an older sister. She’s made no secret how utterly tedious Kaelen and I are.”
A laugh slipped from her lips before she could stop it, the warmth of it easing the tightness in her chest.
