As the others ate, their quiet satisfaction struck something deep in her—an epiphany.
Meaning wasn’t found in grand gestures or lavish feasts, but in the simplest acts: A fire. A bowl of porridge. Small efforts that connected people and kept them moving forward.
For the first time in too long, she feltgrounded.
Not as a princess bound by duty, but as someone contributing—however small the task.
Across the fire, Xian Jun set his bowl aside and rose. “We’ll pack soon. It’s a day south to Vhalis Thorn, the first outpost. We’ll stay a couple of days, set up a stall to trade, then continue along the Great Salt Road.”
The mention of the outpost lit a spark in her chest. Outposts had Wingmasters—those who bred and trained the Sparos to carry messages across the kingdoms. If she could send word to Aethonia, her family would know she was alive. She could warn them of Castiel’s betrayal.
But messages weren’t free, and she had no means to pay.
Her fingers found the winged pendant at her throat, the crystal cool against her skin. Limyerite was valuable enough to buy her passage, enough to carry her far from here.
But value wasn’t meaning. Castiel’s lies had dimmed its light, but not snuffed it out. It still felt heavier than it should, full of memories she wasn’t ready to surrender.
Therehadto be another way to survive—one she could claim for herself.
Squaring her shoulders, Reiya rose and hurried after Xian Jun.
“May I . . . help with the stall?” The words felt strange in her mouth, but she pressed on. “Or make something to sell?”
Xian Jun stopped, turning to her. Heat prickled beneath her collar, but she didn’t waver. “I need coins. For . . .”
His gaze sharpened—not unkind, but assessing. “For passage to Asadia.”
She nodded.
His eyes drifted toward Ru Rong and Su Lian, still cleaning up breakfast. “Speak to my mother and Su Lian. We’ll find where your talents lie.” His mouth curved faintly. “Cooking’s not it, but we’ll try something else.”
Reiya’s cheeks burned. Xian Jun wasn’t unkind, but neither was he the type to extend trust easily. His approval, she sensed, was something to be earned, not given—and certainly never out of pity.
In Nymaris, people smiled too easily, smoothing over discomfort with hollow courtesies. But Xian Jun’s bluntness, though jarring, was honest. He wasn’t here to coddle her.
And strangely, as daunting as it was, she respected that.
Her gaze drifted to Ru Rong and Su Lian, their hands moving with swift, practiced confidence as they packed up the camp.
Doubt flickered. Could she keep up with them?
She shoved the thought aside.
If she wanted to reach Asadia—if she wanted to make it home—she’d have to learn. Not by running. Not by wishing.
But by staying,trying.
By taking each step forward until the road led her to where she truly belonged.
Chapter Thirteen
REIYANA
The wagon trundled along the Great Salt Road, its wheels creaking in a steady rhythm as they headed south. Xian Jun guided the reins, Ru Rong’s quiet chatter drifting beside him in the quietness of morning.
Inside the wagon, Reiya sat by the window. The simple interior felt far more spacious than it appeared from the outside. A narrow cot stretched beneath the opposite window, layered in woven blankets. Small cabinets lined the walls, their doors secured with leather straps. Another cot lay at the other end of the wagon, across from the entrance. Faint scents of herbs, wood, and leather clung to the air—familiar and foreign at the same time but, oddly, soothing.
Mei Mei sat cross-legged on the floor, threading colourful beads onto thin cords, her chore for the morning.
