She didn’t pity Annaïs, but she understood the fear that came with isolation. Omegas were rarely left untethered, free to navigate the world without protection. Their value had always been measured by the bonds they formed—whether in politics, alliances, or personal relationships.
Without Hassamir circulating in court, Annaïs would be at the mercy of politics. And in a world as ruthless as theirs, vulnerability in an Omega was an open wound, inviting opportunists to circle.
Annaïs’s eyes hardened again. “Don’t pretend you understand. Don’t pretend you care. You’ve always had someone at your side—your family, the princes, Lady Neda and Thalina.” Her voice dipped, cutting. “Even Castiel Vaelmont, once. I never had that luxury.”
Reiya’s heart twisted, but she didn’t look away.
“I know what loneliness feels like,” she said quietly. “But you chose this path when you didn’t have to.”
Annaïs’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Her gaze dropped to the cold stone floor.
“You betrayed the people who could’ve stood with you,” Reiya continued. “I don’t know if that’s something you can undo. But I hope—for your sake—that you find another way.”
For a long moment, Annaïs said nothing. When she finally looked up, her expression was unreadable. “I don’t need your pity, Princess.”
Reiya nodded, stepping back toward the door. “Good. Because I’m not offering it.”
The smirk returned to those lips, though she could see a quiver.
“I will be alright, you’ll see.” Annaïs stood and smoothed her palms down her skirt, chin lifted. For a moment, she was that Omega again, ready to dazzle everyone in the room. “After all, I am an Omega. And, like you said, a Mezerin. Too precious to be killed and discarded.”
“That, I know to be true,” she said. “Goodbye, then, Annaïs. I hope life gives you another chance.”
She walked to the door, her hand pausing at the latch as she looked over her shoulder.
“And if it does, I pray you don’t squander it.”
Above the dungeons, dusk had turned into night. Lanterns cast a soft glow over the garden as Reiya and Lady Neda walked together, the gentle rustle of leaves accompanying their steps toward the eastern pavilion.
Through the carved stone arches ahead, flickers of light marked where Kaelen, Alarik, and King Azarion waited.
As they crossed the narrow bridge over a reflecting pool, Reiya finally spoke.
“Did it disappoint the king?”
Lady Neda lifted a brow in silent inquiry.
“Annaïs’s betrayal,” she clarified. “I thought . . . perhaps he’d hoped for more.”
The consort’s expression barely shifted, but amusement glinted in her dark eyes. “If you are asking whether Azarion was heartbroken by the loss of her affections,” Lady Neda said lightly, “then, no. He saw through her long before her plans unravelled.”
Reiya absorbed that, but a small frown crept onto her lips. “He never seemed to stop her attempts, though.”
Lady Neda slowed beneath the archway leading to the pavilion. “He didn’t have to. Your father-in-law is no fool. Flirtations like Annaïs’s are common at court—harmless, unless given room to take root. Azarion knows better than to entertain distractions when their true purpose is political maneuvering.”
“And Hassamir?” she pressed.
The consort’s amusement faded. “That was different. Annaïs played a shallow game. Her father, Azarion’s own cousin . . . his betrayal cuts deeper.”
“I suppose betrayal from a family member is harder to forgive.”
“It is.” Lady Neda resumed walking, her gaze lifting toward the lanterns where the king and the princes waited. “Azarion won’t dwell on the loss of Annaïs’s false affection. His focus is where it belongs—on his kingdom’s security and future, and his family.”
“Do you thinksheregrets it?” she asked quietly.
The consort didn’t answer immediately.
“Perhaps,” she said at last. “But regret doesn’t always lead to redemption. Some cling to their pride, even as it drags them under.”
