“Discipline isn’t a matter of mood, my Tazahrin.”
Alarik sipped his coffee, golden gaze flicking briefly to her before returning to Kaelen. “He’s right, you know. Perhaps if you trained under Marzius as a boy, your archery would be less about showmanship and more about accuracy.”
Kaelen laughed, unabashed. “I still won the archery competition in Aethonia, didn’t I?”
“Luck,” his brother replied, deadpan.
She suppressed a smile. “If you two are going to bicker like children, at least do it where you won’t ruin my concentration.”
Kaelen’s grin widened. “Only trying to keep the mood light, Sáel. Marzius is rather notorious for his lack of humour.”
“Back to form,” Marzius interjected, nodding toward her bow. “Your focus has slipped. I will send the Tazahrin and Prince Alarik away if they prove to be more distraction than support.”
Reiya drew another arrow from her quiver, fighting back a smile. The playful banter between the brothers was a welcome contrast to the captain’s sharp, measured critiques—each one striking with all the precision of a well-aimed arrow. Yet he remained impervious to their teasing, composure as steady as ever.
It struck her how natural their camaraderie was—Kaelen, Alarik, and Marzius—an interplay of wit and respect that felt almost familial.
‘Tazahrin and Prince Alarik,’the captain had called them earlier.
The phrasing lingered in her mind. Unlike others at court, he’d never referred to Alarik as Tazahriv—the Lesser Prince. The absence of that title, so often wielded as a subtle insult, didn’t go unnoticed.
Lesser in quality, lesser in worth; such insinuations clung to the term like thorns.
But not from Marzius. To him, it was always Prince Alarik, spoken with the same steady respect he showed Kaelen.
Her gaze flicked to Alarik, who sat beside his brother, his eyes glinting with amusement as they exchanged remarks. The sight warmed her heart. Marzius’s quiet refusal to use the belittling title onlyelevated the captain in her eyes—another testament to the bond he shared with the brothers.
As she lined up her next shot, her gaze fixed on the arrow, but a memory pulled at her—copper hair in the street, the unease of Castiel’s shadow still lingering.
“Any word from your search, Captain?” she asked as she loosed the arrow. It struck closer to centre, though still shy of the mark. Lowering her bow, she turned to Marzius, her voice pitched just loud enough for the princes to hear.
“No sign of him,” Alarik admitted, his voice calm but edged with tension. “Marzius’s men have scoured every possible lead, but Castiel seems to have disappeared.”
The captain clasped his hands behind his back. “We’ve expanded the search beyond Mezerin, but he’s nowhere to be found. Either he’s gone to ground—or fled the kingdom altogether.”
Kaelen’s gaze darkened. “Since Jodhar’s death, the city gates have been under strict watch. Every soul is questioned at the crossings. Could he truly have slipped away unseen?”
Reiya lowered her bow, a faint frown tugging at her brow. “I’m beginning to wonder if I imagined him.”
Deep down, she knew—mistaken sighting or not, the Tidebinder’s knot and silversage resin on the arrow that killed Jodhar were too precise to be coincidence.
Kaelen leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “Better to be cautious than regretful. This is your home now, and I won’t have you living in fear.” His scoff carried a sharp edge. “It’d be Jodhar all over again—though I’d wager Castiel is far more cunning than that thick-skulled oaf ever was.”
“We haven’t exhausted all efforts yet,” the captain said. “We’ll continue with our search, and?—”
Before he could finish, a flutter of movement caught their attention.
The king approached, his retinue trailing behind him, the gold of his robes catching the sunlight. At his side walked Annaïs, resplendent as ever, her rose-pink gown a stark contrast against the green hues of the palace garden.
Lady Neda walked steadily on the king’s other side, her expression unreadable
Reiya lowered her bow and smoothed her dress as the group approached. The brothers rose from their seats and descended the pavilion to stand beside her. The king’s presence always carried a weight demanding attention, but today, his usually solemn demeanour seemed lighter—almost jovial.
“Princess Reiyana,” the king called when he was close, his voice warm. “And my sons. A most delightful morning, it seems.” He nodded at the captain. “Marzius.”
“Good morning, Father,” Kaelen greeted. “You seem in excellent spirits.”
“Seeing my family out and about is always a pleasure.” The king regarded Reiya, quirking a brow. “An Omega learning archery? Quite the tale for the court.”
