She’d nearly forgotten that quiet morning inside the wagon, when the woman had told her she was born in the Year of the Reindeer. How she’d laughed at the idea of antlers—of strength, of endurance—belonging to her.
But standing here, with survival behind her and the unwavering bond of her mates and found family surrounding her, she realized—Su Lian was right.
The antlershadcome in.
Su Lian’s soft chuckle warmed the air, her hand lingering against Reiya’s cheek, gentle and sure. Without thinking, Reiya drew her in, arms wrapping tight around her. The embrace held everything she couldn’t yet shape into words—gratitude, love, the aching relief of having them all here, safe, and within reach.
She held the woman close, inhaling the faint scent of herbs and smoke that clung to Su Lian’s clothes—something deeply familiar, comforting. Then Ru Rong came, her arms wrapping around them both, fierce and protective, anchoring them together.
Reiya closed her eyes against the burn of tears before pulling back and turning toward Xian Jun, who still stood at a distance.
“You don’t have to stand there like a stranger,” she called out, her gaze lingering on his stiff posture. “Come closer before Kaelen mistakes you for a ghost.”
Ru Rong smirked and went to pull Xian Jun forward. “Told you she wouldn’t care about all that royalty nonsense.”
Xian Jun shot his mother an exasperated look but relented, stepping closer with a respectful incline of his head. “I didn’t want to overstep, Your Highnesses.”
“You’re not overstepping,” Reiya replied gently, smiling as Mei Mei slipped a warm bun into her hand, fresh from the bamboo steamer. “I thought you said I was family now.”
For the first time, Reiya saw the man blush.
Kaelen and Alarik came to stand beside her.
“You should’ve accepted the Ambassador’s Wing,” Kaelen said. “The outer courtyard is hardly a place for guests of the Crown.”
Xian Jun’s response was immediate. “We’re honoured by the offer, but the pavilion suits us. We prefer the open space.”
Alarik arched a brow. “Better for avoiding palace politics.”
Xian Jun’s lips pressed into a thin line, solemn. “A wise man knows when to stay in the shadows.”
Then, to Reiya’s surprise, he dipped into a formal bow.
“Your Highnesses. If we’ve been rude or insolent in the past, we beg forgiveness. We didn’t know?—”
Reiya tilted her head, pursing her lips in exaggerated contemplation. “Is that what we are now? Formalities and full titles?”
She glanced at Mei Mei, who peeked at her through dark lashes, and sighed dramatically. “You see how quickly he forgets? One palace, and suddenly, I’m a stranger.”
Ru Rong smirked, leaning toward Su Lian. “Told you she’d say that.”
Xian Jun straightened, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks slightly pink. “I wouldn’t say a stranger.”
“Then stop bowing,” Reiya teased. “I liked you better when you scolded me about not cleaning water skins and cooking pots properly.”
She could hear Kaelen and Alarik chuckling under their breath.
Ru Rong crossed her arms, barely containing her amusement. “We knew there was a story with you. No way someone that clumsy at basic chores wasn’t hiding something.”
Reiya arched a brow. “Was I really that terrible?”
“Oh, you were,” the elder woman deadpanned, holding up a finger. “Remember the stew on your first night? Burned to charcoal.”
Su Lian covered her smile with one hand. “I did suspect you came from somewhere noble,” she admitted. “Your skin—too smooth. No callouses. I used to wonder how you avoided blisters.”
Reiya laughed. “But you never asked.”
“We figured you had your reasons,” Su Lian replied gently. “It wasn’t our place to ask.”
