He would love the child she bore, no matter whose blood ran through their veins.
His nose brushed the fresh mark on her shoulder, his lips following, sealing that silent vow.
Reiya’s throat tightened.
Her Heat had been overwhelming—primal, desperate, beyond reason. But this . . . this moment was different.
This was the after.
This was love.
She let her hands cover theirs, fingers twining together over her abdomen, and felt the bond settle deeper—not just through instinct, but through something unbreakable, something lasting.
Eventually, they had to return to Turasid Palace.
Before leaving the nest, they’d taken time to cleanse and dress, the sanctuary proving itself well-equipped for their needs. A private bathing chamber had been carved into the rock, its basin filled with naturally warm water, allowing them to wash away the remnants of her Heat. Fresh garments awaited them—soft, loose robes for comfort, a thoughtful provision that made the transition back to court life feel less jarring.
Still, as they approached the palace gates, Reiya felt the lingering ache in her limbs, a quiet echo of the nights spent in their arms. In front of the palace’s grand steps, Kaelen pulled Shahram to a smooth halt, his grip steady at her waist. She’d ridden sidesaddle the entire way—astride would’ve been unbearable after the thorough, unrelenting pleasure of her Heat.
He dismounted first, then reached up, bracing her carefully as she slid down, her dress spilling over the saddle. The moment her feet touched the ground, a new urgency settled in her limbs.
After days of separation, she was eager to see the Xians again.
But Captain Marzius stood at the base of the steps, his sharp gaze sweeping over them before softening slightly. Stiffly, and rather hurriedly, he bowed.
“Welcome home, Princess. Tazahrin. Prince Alarik.”
Kaelen inclined his head, one hand resting at the small of Reiya’s back. “Marzius.” Then, noticing the grim set of the captain’s mouth, he paused.
“Did something happen?”
Marzius gave a brisk nod. Reiya felt her pulse tighten at his heavy expression. Alarik stepped closer behind her.
“His Majesty waited to inform you until your return. The High Chancellor and Lady Annaïs were taken into custody following the masquerade. The king ordered them held under palace guard pending an inquiry.”
“And?” Alarik’s voice was flat, as though he could already guess the news.
A muscle ticked in the captain’s jaw. He had the look of a man upset with himself. “Sometime during the night, Hassamir vanished. No sign of forced escape. No witnesses. No disruption in the guard rotation. He simply . . . disappeared.”
Reiya’s heart dropped. “And Annaïs?”
“She’s still here. Confined first to her apartments, then moved to the underground cell after her father fled. She’s been questioned, but claimed she knew nothing.”
Kaelen swore. “Castiel Vaelmont—has he been questioned too?”
Marzius gave a grim nod. “He had even less to say. Kept his mouth sealed well enough.”
Reiya stared past the captain, her thoughts racing. Hassamir—always calculating—had slipped free before justice could catch him. But Annaïs . . .
“He left his daughter to answer for him,” she murmured.
Marzius said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.
She turned away, frustration and seeds of anger brewing inside her chest. Hassamir might be gone, but the wreckage he left behind remained—and it reeked of something far more calculated than a simple flight from justice.
No signs of struggle. No broken routine. No witnesses.
Someone had helped him.
