But she was no longer that woman. Instead of shrinking back, she stepped into it. She returned the embrace, hands lingering on the woman’s back for just a moment longer than necessary—a silent statement of her own.
She let her lips brush against Annaïs’s cheek in return, matching her rhythm, her presumed warmth.
When they pulled apart, Reiya met Annaïs’s gaze head-on, allowing the faintest curve of a smile—not too broad, not too slight.
The other Omega’s dark eyes gleamed, searching, measuring, meeting hers in a battle of perception, played in silk and stillness.
“Welcome, Princess,” Annaïs said at last, her voice honey-smooth and pitched just high enough to carry through the crowd. Her Isseric was flawless, laced with the faintest accent—enough to make each word linger, all the more captivating for its exotic edge. “It is an honour to finally stand before you.”
Reiya kept her voice steady. “Thank you, Lady Annaïs. Your welcome means more than you know.”
“The court will speak of you for weeks, Princess. You have a way with words.”
“It is easy to speak from the heart when one is inspired by Asadia’s strength.”
There was a pause while Annaïs smiled and leaned forward, as if she’d spotted something that intrigued her enough to warrant a closer look.
“How I admire your eyes,” she mused with a smile, voice light, almost thoughtful. “Like the clearest waters of a distant shore. So rare, so unusual. No one in Asadia has eyes quite like yours.”
The words were a carefully crafted blade, slipped between silk and skin. Not an insult precisely, but a reminder that Reiya was not of this land.
She wasother.
And in a court where lineage and legacy held power,othernesscould be a crown—or a chain.
Reiya’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Then I suppose I shall see Asadia with new eyes. Perhaps, in time, it will learn to see me the same.”
She caught a flicker in Annaïs’s expression, too brief to name. All the while, the court watched, waiting for another blade to be unsheathed.
A calm voice cut through the tension.
“My mother,” Kaelen said, his voice smooth, effortless, deceptively idle, “the late queen, had the most striking green eyes. Didn’t she, Father?”
A shift, subtle but unmistakable, passed through the gathered nobles, and Annaïs stilled.
King Azarion nodded, a slight, wistful smile on his lips. “She did, indeed.”
Somehow, Kaelen managed to silence the lingering unease with the precision of a well-placed blade.
Reiya let the silence stretch for a breath longer, then, with the ease of someone settling into the seat she’d claimed for herself, she tilted her head.
“It seems Asadia has long embraced beauty in many forms. How wonderful.”
Annaïs said nothing, but Reiya saw the glimmer behind her darkgaze. It wasn’t defeat yet. She merely paused to reassess, as if swiftly adjusting the pieces of a board game she refused to lose.
The woman turned toward Kaelen and Alarik with perfect poise, but everyone could see the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Reiya wasn’t sure if it was regret or longing, or pure performance.
Kaelen, ever attuned, inclined his head toward her, his tone smooth but distant. “Lady Annaïs, it’s good to see you and your father joining us this afternoon. Asadia benefits when all its voices come together.”
Annaïs lowered into a graceful curtsy. “Your Highness. It is good to see you as well, after all this time. The court has been . . . quieter in your absence.”
Kaelen’s lips twitched, but he didn’t reply.
Annaïs turned to Alarik next, her movements composed, but slower than before.
“Lady Annaïs,” he greeted politely.
