Kaelen chuckled. “Fair point. Though I only sought to ease the pressure hanging over you tonight.”
Her gaze flicked to the head table where her parents watched, their expressions expectant. The faintest sigh escaped her lips before her attention returned to him, the steel behind her eyes tempered but present.
“I find it curious that the court’s pressure troubles you, when they’re not your burden to bear.”
“I only wish to ease the weight foryou, Princess. If I overstep, it’s only because I hoped to see you smile.”
Her lips parted, but she hesitated, eyes narrowing, as though testing his sincerity. He let her linger in her thoughts, to chew on his words as he guided her seamlessly through the turns of the dance.
The music swelled, filling the vast hall, but the space between them carried its own quiet rhythm. Despite the steel in her voice, Kaelen saw it: the way her eyes stole a glance at him before her lashes dipped, a whisper of curiosity.
“You and your brother,” she finally said, “share a bond rarely seen, even among blood siblings. In Aethonia, such closeness isn’t common. Especially between half-brothers.”
She wasn’t the first to remark on his relationship with Alarik. Most would’ve cautioned distance, fearing treason. Usually, he was quick to quell such remarks, but Reiyana’s words felt different. There was no judgment, no malice—only something like admiration.
“It’s true,” he admitted, his grip light at the small of her back. “Alarik and I share the same father, but different mothers.” He hesitated, just briefly. “Mine was queen—an Omega. His was a Beta consort. It’s complicated, but titles never mattered much to us.”
She tilted her head slightly, her fingers tightening briefly in his as they turned through the next step. “Tazahrin and Tazahriv,” she repeated, her voice thoughtful. “What do they mean?”
He knew where this was headed, but he kept his expression easy. “Tazahrin is the title for the crown prince. Tazahriv . . .” He met her gaze, his tone light. “It means ‘Lesser Prince.’ Second in line.”
“I see.” Her head tilted slightly, the shift subtle but searching. “Titles never mattered much—to you, perhaps. But is it the same for him?”
His charm slipped into place like second nature, the easy response forming on his tongue. He could’ve answered without hesitation—flashed a grin, spun a clever line, turned the conversation elsewhere.
But something in the way she watched him made him pause.
The truth sat heavy beneath the surface. He and Alarik had never needed words to understand what lay between them—the bad and thegood, the bramble and the root, the burden of expectation and the choice to stand together anyway.
But the truth wasn’t something that could be explained in a few effortless words.
So instead, he smiled and led her into the next turn.
“Alarik’s never cared much for titles,” he said. “He’s better than all that.”
Her fingers curled slightly against his shoulder.
“Was it difficult?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “Growing up side by side with someone the court might have seen as a rival?”
“It wasn’t easy, but we didn’t let it divide us. Trust isn’t inherited. It’s earned. We fought for it, so we know it’ll last.” His lips quirked at the memories. “He’s the closest person to me—always has been. No matter what the world expects of us, I’ve always known where we stand.”
She was silent for a beat. Then, almost too softly, she said, “I envy you and your brother.”
Kaelen arched a brow, tilting his head toward the royal table where three golden-haired princes sat. “You have three siblings, don’t you?”
Her smile tightened subtly. “To them, I’ve always been a responsibility first, a sister next. Since my Awakening, they’ve kept me at a distance.”
Kaelen’s thoughts drifted to Thalina, his nine-year-old sister, and the delicate, often clumsy dance he and Alarik performed—always trying to protect her without making her feel trapped. He’d been fifteen when she was born, and Alarik nineteen—old enough to feel the weight of responsibility, young enough to fumble through it.
Still, he couldn’t imagine caging Thalina behind duty, not the way Reiyana seemed to feel caged now.
“They mean well, I’m sure,” he said gently. “But protection can feel a lot like confinement when no one stops to ask what you want.”
She looked at him then, something unreadable shifting in her gaze. Kaelen only smiled as the music softened, guiding her effortlessly across the floor. Her touch remained light, distant—like a bird poised to flee, as if stepping too close might pull her into his gravity, leaving no way to escape.
“Does your guard ever lower, Princess?” he mused, teasing, watching the flicker of caution in her eyes.
“It would be unwise to lower it in the company of an Alpha,” she said, turning away.
