They were the first coins she’d ever earned.
Xian Jun nodded. “Eat and rest. Tomorrow will be just as busy.”
Reiya glanced toward the market’s edge, hesitating. “I need a moment to send a message.”
He raised a brow, but with his usual silence, he nodded and turned back to the stall.
She moved through Vhalis Thorn’s winding paths, following painted signs leading to the Wingmaster’s stall. She found it nestled along the perimeter, standing beneath a sagging roof crowded with perches. A dozen Sparos stirred restlessly in the dimming light, preening feathers and casting curious glances at those passing below.
An elderly man sat at the counter, scratching notes into a ledger. Behind wire spectacles, his eyes sharpened as he looked up.
“Message, miss?” he rasped, voice roughened, probably from years spent shouting orders at unruly birds.
Reiya inclined her head. “To Aethonia, please.”
He cocked a brow. “A far flight. That’ll cost extra.”
Reiya loosened the drawstring on her pouch, pinching out a few coins to show the Wingmaster. “Does this cover it?”
The man’s eyes flicked over the coins before nodding. He gave her a small piece of parchment and dipped a quill into a shallow inkwell. “Write your message.”
Reiya bent over the paper, the quill hovering just above the surface. The urge to write everything—about Castiel’s betrayal, the unknown dangers, her regret for leaving—pressed at her. But the words felt tangled, too big to fit onto this small, fragile sheet.
In the end, she kept it brief:
I’m safe. Slowly making my way home. Castiel isn’t who he seems.
She folded the note, marking the outside with a series of numbers known only to couriers and palace officials. It’d get her message sent straight to the palace.
The Wingmaster deftly secured the message to a Sparo’s leg, the small bronze ring on its other talon bearing symbols marking its assigned route. He gave a low whistle, and the bird took off into the night, wings flashing in the moonlight before vanishing into the dark.
Relief hit her first, sharp and fleeting—then unease rose to drown it.
Now, all that remained was the waiting—caught in the hollow space between hope and fear.
As she made her way back through the thinning crowd, a breeze carried the scent of herbs and dried flowers. Her gaze caught on an herbalist’s stall tucked between two flower shops, glass jars and bundles of leaves hanging from twine, their earthy colours muted in the torchlight.
A sign painted in Isseric stood at the stall’s front:Suppression Remedies Available.
She slowed, fingers twitching at her sides. Suppression remedies. She’d heard of herbs that could mask an Omega’s scent, dulling her instincts and muting her nature, making it easier to lose herself in the crowd.
The idea of a temporary relief tugged at her—a way to quell the pull and keep herself hidden until she reached safe shores.
But before she made a decision, a chill prickled at her nape, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down. Her pulse quickened, her hands trembling as she scanned the crowd.
Someone was watching. She felt it as surely as a shadow at her back.
Then, she sawhim.
At the market’s edge, a towering Alpha loomed in the shadow. Dust-streaked leather armour clung to his broad shoulders, scuffed by long, brutal roads. His bronze hair hung in rough waves, with careless braids tucked behind his ear. He looked carved from the very earth he walked, as worn and relentless as the path itself.
But it was his face that lodged a stone in her throat. A jagged scar cut down his cheek, framing eyes that stripped the market bare with cold, predatory precision. When his gaze caught hers, the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet.
Reiya froze. His glare held her in place—sharp, focused. He inhaled deeply, the leather cuirass inflating over his chest. She felt his attention as if he were peeling back her layers from across the way. His eyes narrowed, darkening.
Did he know? Could he sense what she was?
His gaze lingered a beat longer before sliding away, leaving her in the icy shadow of his attention. She forced herself to move, quickening her steps toward the Xians’ wagon, her pulse hammering relentlessly.
