“Prince Alarik.” That glimmer of tears in her limpid eyes returned. “It’s been some time. I trust you’ve returned . . . safe and sound?”
His reply was quiet, but even cooler now. “Quite, though I’ve never feared the road. It offers fewer opportunities for manipulation than at court.”
The bite in his words was unmistakable. Reiya caught the tightening in Annaïs’s expression—a flash of something sharper, almost like anger, though she reckoned the woman was too smart to let an honest emotion show.
Then, as she predicted, Annaïs smiled—a careful curving of the lips.
The moment passed, for now.
Chapter Forty-Nine
REIYANA
The seating arrangement beneath the shaded canopy was a silent declaration of hierarchy. King Azarion sat at the head of the table. To his right, Reiya had been placed as the highest-ranking woman in attendance, a position that should signify not merely favour, but authority.
Across from her, seated at the king’s left, was Annaïs.
Even without a word exchanged between them, the message was clear: the court saw them not just as women at the king’s table, but as forces vying for position.
Lady Neda had been seated further down the table. She was favoured by the king, yet kept apart—a reminder that, while influence could be cultivated, her modest birth and Beta status ensured certain barriers remained unbroken.
The conversation began with pleasantries, the kind designed to fill the air rather than impart true meaning. There was talk of the oasis and its bounty, of trade routes prospering under the king’s rule, and of the villages thriving in the season’s warmth.
But Reiya had been in her father’s court long enough to recognize when a shift was coming, and it came with practiced precision.
“I was reflecting earlier, Your Majesty,” Annaïs said,tilting her head toward the king, “on the drought plaguing the northern settlements. Forgive me for being bold and ask plainly, but I wondered if progress has been made toward a solution?”
Reiya’s focus sharpened as the words left Annaïs’s lips, the question cloaked in concern yet heavy with intent. She chose her subject well.
Politics, not flattery.
“You are very well informed on matters of state, Lady Annaïs,” the king intoned, his golden eyes assessing her as she blushed prettily under his gaze. “Your father’s influence, no doubt.”
Annaïs allowed a modest smile. “I am only a humble observer, Your Majesty. A strong kingdom begins in its roots, after all.”
Reiya caught the flicker of amusement in Hassamir’s expression as he lifted his goblet in an almost imperceptible toast to his daughter’s performance.
The king nodded. “We are discussing long-term strategies. Prince Kaelendrin has made some compelling suggestions to expand our new aqueduct.”
Annaïs turned toward Kaelen, a look of faint admiration settling on her features. “You continue to surprise us all, my prince. Your recent . . . attentiveness has not gone unnoticed.”
Kaelen inclined his head, his tone dry. “A prince must earn his place, Lady Annaïs. As we all must.”
Reiya suddenly found herself the centre of the woman’s attention. “What do you think of our kingdom’s issue, Princess Reiyana? I am sure a daughter of the sea has seen innovations we cannot yet imagine. Please, enlighten us.”
It was a question wrapped in flattery, but Reiya recognized the snare. If she played it safe, she would be dismissed. If she overstepped, she would be criticized.
“Indeed,” she replied smoothly, setting her goblet down. “As you know, Aethonia is an island kingdom surrounded by the ocean. Freshwater is our most precious resource, and we have long learned to make use of every drop.”
The king leaned forward slightly. “How does your father’s court manage it?”
She recalled the suggestions she’d offered at her father’s council—how the men had smiled, nodded politely, then turned to one another to change the subject, only to later adopt her ideas without a word of credit.
“We use a combination of methods, Your Majesty. Rain catchments built into our rooftops funnel water into underground cisterns, ensuring each household has reserves through the dry months. For farming, we rely on stone-lined channels and buried clay vessels to carry water directly to the roots, wasting as little as possible.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the courtiers. Several advisors leaned in, their interest piqued.
“Aethonia has also begun experimenting with seawater distillation—evaporating it and collecting the condensed vapour as freshwater. It’s laborious and demands more fuel and materials than we’ve perfected, but even in small amounts, it provides clean drinking water to coastal settlements.”
