He bent closer, his cheek brushing hers as they swayed, the music folding around them. For a moment, they were the only two in the room, his breath warm against her temple.
“I told myself I could endure it,” he murmured. “We knew this daywould come. But watching you with them . . . Every smile, every glance . . .”
His voice faltered, as though the truth had slipped through a crack he hadn’t meant to reveal.
“Do you know what it feels like?” His words barely rose above the music, but they cut through her all the same. “It’s like drowning, knowing the only thing keeping me from winning you is that I wasn’t born an Alpha.”
The ache in his voice tightened around her ribs. She leaned in, her cheek pressed against his. She should’ve pulled away, should’ve remembered where they were, but Castiel had a gravity of his own—one she had no strength to resist.
“You’ve already won me,” she whispered. Her vision blurred, but she forced back the tears. “With your kindness. The way you see me—not as the Omega the court wants, but as I am.” She swallowed hard. “No matter who I choose tomorrow, I’ll keep you with me in my heart. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Castiel pulled slightly away. His smile was fleeting, a ghost of what might’ve been. “No, dove, it doesn’t. Not in the ways that matter.”
He bent again, lips grazing her ear, his voice barely more than a murmur. “In the end, they always get what they want.”
Her pulse stuttered. She looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
For a moment, he hesitated, then exhaled, soft and resigned. “The Asadian princes have a pact to share one Omega. If you marry Kaelendrin, you’ll have to accept Alarik too.”
The words landed hard—like a sudden shift in the wind, stealing her breath. She stumbled, but Castiel’s grip never faltered, his hand pressing gently at the small of her back in silent reassurance.
“They didn’t tell you, did they?” His voice was quiet, but the weight of it crushed her. “They won’t—not until it’s too late. That’s what you are to them, Reiya.”
He leaned in, so close his lips brushed her ear. “A prize to be split between two Alphas.”
Her mind reeled. The easy familiarity between the brothers. Leif’s teasing words. Thorir’s evasion when she’d pressed him for answers. Each clue slid into place, a puzzle she hadn’t known she was solving.
He twirled her once more, his expression unreadable, but the anguish in his voice cut through.
“I can’t stay and watch it happen.” His hand pressed lightly against her back, a touch as fleeting as a farewell. “I know this is hard for you, dove, but I’ll make it easier for you—the only way I know how.”
She stuttered and pulled away, searching his face. “What are you saying?”
His hold firmed, keeping her moving, refusing to let the moment fracture. “I’m leaving Aethonia tonight. A ship’s waiting. It’s time I find something new, away from all this.”
The world wavered. Music and laughter blurred. She clutched at his arm, dug her fingertips into his sinew as if she could anchor him here.
“No!” she gasped. “Castiel, don’t?—”
His arms tightened around her, pulling her in, his embrace desperate, unthinking. His lips brushed her ear, low and raw. “I must, dove.”
The ballroom faded—the candlelight, the voices, the press of silk and gold. There was only Castiel. The heat of him. The familiar scent of bergamot. The weight of his longing. The plea in his touch.
“I can’t stand here and watch them claim what I never could, only to be left behind with nothing but your memory in every corner.” He swallowed. “I can’t do it. Iwon’t.”
Before she could stop him, he was gone, slipping through the crowd with the same quiet grace that had carried him through their dance. The space he left behind yawned wide, heavy, threatening to swallow her whole.
Her chests heaved, rising and falling. Her corset pinched, ribs straining against the seams. Silk skirts brushed past in a blur, laughter distant, all of it muffled beneath her quickening pulse. Castiel’s absence curled over her like a hand she couldn’t shrug off. The ballroom stretched too far, and she stood at its centre, untethered.
Then, Thorir was there. Without a word, his hand slid into hers, warm and familiar. He guided her back into the rhythm of the dance, coaxing her steps as if nothing had changed.
Of course, Reiya thought bitterly as the music swelled, conversations pressing in from all sides. How could she stand frozen at her own celebration, ruining the flawless image they expected?
She looked up at Thorir—at how his chiseled jaw remained set, short blond hair neatly combed, blue eyes cool and unreadable. That calm, that neutrality—it twisted her stomach. It felt like a betrayal in its own way.
Something sharp stirred inside her, anger curling at the edges of her thoughts.
“You knew about the Asadian princes’ pact, didn’t you?”
