King Azarion’s brows lifted. “Seawater distillation . . . intriguing. And you believe such methods could be adapted for Asadia?”
“Not all, but some. Rain catchments could be added to smaller settlements to store precious rainfall, and underground cisterns could supplement your aqueducts. As for irrigation, I trust Asadia’s farmers are already skilled innovators. With the right investment, they may transform water use across the north.”
Annaïs smiled, her voice still honey-smooth but edged with something sharper. “An impressive approach, Princess. It seems Aethonia values innovation above all.”
Reiya returned the gaze. “Innovation is born of necessity. And the desert teaches that well, does it not?”
King Azarion chuckled softly, a note of approval threading through his voice. “A wise observation. The desert does teach us—harshly, at times—but those who endure become stronger for it.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Reiya caught Kaelen’s faint smirk, his golden gaze filled with something that looked like pride. He gave her a subtle wink, while Alarik remained silent, though the gleam in his eyes and the faint press of his lips suggested he was holding back amusement.
As the meal continued, Reiya’s thoughts turned inward.
Annaïs’s flirtation with the king earlier hadn’t gone unnoticed, but now, she wondered if it was part of something larger. If she and Hassamir had failed to secure the throne through Kaelen and Alarik, were they carving another path?
King Azarion had fathered three children from three different mothers, but he hadn’t remarried. His Omega queen had passed on, yet no Beta consort ever rose to power—not Alarik’s mother, not Lady Neda.
Would an Omega in her prime change that?
Annaïs was young, beautiful, nubile, and could very well provide the king with more children—Sunborn and Moonfire children. If Annaïs succeeded in turning the king’s attention toward her, it would secure House Mezerin’s power for generations. Hassamir could influence the council to push the king to consider remarrying.
All for the glory of Asadia, of course.
She pushed her food around her plate, letting the quiet hum of conversation wash over her as she considered the possibilities. The queen’s throne seemed to make sense as a goal, but something about Annaïs’s past with Kaelen and Alarik—the way she played one brother against the other rather than focusing her attention on the heir apparent—perturbed her.
What was their true plan?
Her gaze drifted across the table to Annaïs, seated with flawless poise—though notably closer to the king than propriety dictated. She laughed softly at something he said, tracing the rim of her goblet with a slow, practiced grace. When she tucked a curl behind her ear, her hand lingered at the curve of her neck, drawing subtle attention to the delicate line of her collarbone.
Reiya recognized the choreography. Each glance, each measured smile, was placed with precision—every touch of skin to hair, every shift of posture designed not to entertain but to captivate.
Annaïs wasn’t simply speaking to the king.
She wasseducinghim.
But for all her sweetness, Reiya doubted the woman was careless. She wielded her charm with the precision of a blade, turning it toward whomever she wished to ensnare.
“Are you not eating, Princess?”
Annaïs’s voice broke through Reiya’s thoughts—a shard of glass, smooth yet pointed at the end. The quiet hum of conversation around the table softened as eyes turned toward them again.
Annaïs tilted her head, the silver embroidery of her veil shimmering with the movement. “Asadian cuisine does not suit you, perhaps?”
Reiya met her gaze evenly, offering a slow, faint smile. “The food is lovely, Lady Annaïs, but I find the company far more nourishing.”
A ripple of laughter stirred through the gathering. Even the king’s lips curved in amusement. A few seats away, Kaelen murmured something low to Alarik, shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth.
Annaïs’s expression didn’t falter, but Reiya caught the fractional narrowing of her eyes before she, too, chuckled along with the others.
“Well said, Princess. I imagine you learned the art of conversation in Aethonia’s court.”
“It is a necessary skill when one must navigate both sea and storm.”
“Do you miss it? The sea? The familiar halls of your home?”
“Of course. It’s where I was shaped. But we aren’t meant to remain in one place forever. Aethonia taught me much, but Asadia . . .” She turned toward the king. “Asadia is teaching me what it means to build a future—not just for myself, but for those I will stand beside.”
A murmur of approval passed through the table. This time, the king himself raised his goblet to her, his expression warm with satisfaction.
