She remembered the cold look in Annaïs’s eyes, alone in her cell.
Yes,thatshe understood.
Lady Neda’s voice pulled her from the memory. “Come now,” she said lightly, slipping her arm through Reiya’s. “Your new family awaits, my dear—and I prefer to have my tea while it’s still warm.”
Reiya smiled, letting the warmth of the moment carry her forward.
The past could linger, but for now, she left it where it belonged—behind her.
They reached the pavilion, stepping onto the terrace as the soft murmur of voices quieted. King Azarion looked up from his seat at the head of the table. Kaelen and Alarik rose at their entrance.
She began to curtsy, but the king waved her off.
“No need for formalities when we’re with family,” he said, his tone warm but edged with the weariness of long days. “Sit. We were discussing the latest correspondence from Aethonia.”
Lady Neda reached for the teapot, her movements slow and deliberate, as if the conversation hadn’t just shifted into something far more delicate. She poured the king’s tea with practiced grace, the soft trickle of liquid the only sound in the hush.
“My king,” she murmured, setting the pot down and lifting her own cup, “before we bring up the letter from Reiya’s parents, have you given any further thought to Lady Annaïs?”
King Azarion exhaled through his nose, tension flickering in his brow. “Until Hassamir is found and executed, she remains a complication.”
The Mezerins had once been powerful, but Hassamir’s treachery had shattered their influence for generations to come. And yet, Annaïs remained—an Omega with no ties, no protection, no clear path forward. A loose thread in an otherwise carefully woven tapestry.
Lady Neda took a slow sip of tea, lashes lifting slightly, as if considering something that had only just occurred to her.
“Omegas are not meant to be left untethered,” she mused. “And the Mezerins, for all their sins, were once a noble line. It would be . . . unwise to leave her wandering unclaimed.”
She let the thought settle, her words light but pointed. The king said nothing, but his fingers drummed against the lacquered wood of his armchair.
“If she were to fall into the wrong hands,” she continued smoothly, “a man of ambition could attempt to carve out a new claim to power through her.” A small pause, as though she was reluctant to voice it aloud. “One cannot fault men for seizing opportunity when it is laid so neatly before them.”
Reiya saw it immediately—the moment the thought took root in the king’s mind, the moment his fingers tightened around his cup, jaw ticking ever so slightly.
A traitor’s daughter. An unbound Omega. A vulnerable, yet well-positioned figure for any man to mould to his will. None of it would sit well with the king.
The consort let the silence stretch just long enough before sighing. “Perhaps it would be best to take control of the situation now—before someone else does.”
He exhaled, nodding faintly. It was subtle, the way the woman allowed him to arrive at the conclusion himself. She hadn’t suggested a course of action, only laid the path bare, step by step, until he saw where it led.
“Perhaps the answer is to arrange a match for Annaïs immediately,” he said.
She inclined her head. “A strategic match could remove her from the political sphere in a way that strengthens the realm,” she agreed. “With careful planning, she could be settled in a manner that ensures she does not become a weapon for those who seek to continue her father’s ambitions.”
The king exhaled slowly, nodding again as if the weight of the decision was already settling over him. “Do you have anyone in mind, Neda?”
And there it was—the moment when not only permission but also authority was given to her. He wasn’t only agreeing; he was entrusting her with Annaïs’s fate.
Lady Neda’s lips curved faintly, her gaze lowering in what might’ve been deference, though Reiya now understood it for what it was: a quiet victory.
“There are . . . one or two possibilities,” she admitted.
Lightly, she shrugged. “Whoever it is, he must be of unimpeachable loyalty to you. Someone beyond reproach, someone whose devotion to the Crown is so absolute that no whisper of doubt could be cast upon him.” A small sigh, the barest hint of lament. “Men like Hassamir are adept at manipulation. We must ensure no one of his ilk follows in his footsteps.”
After a moment, the king gave a single nod, decisive and final. “Very well. Choose a suitable match, and see to it that Annaïs is placed far away from court.”
It was done. No further debate, no questions. By the time he thought to ask, Annaïs would already be wed—far beyond Turasid, perhaps never to be seen again.
Lady Neda lowered her head in acknowledgment, her satisfaction so well-veiled that Reiya almost believed she hadn’t been orchestrating the outcome from the moment Annaïs walked into that cell.
