She’d muttered complaints the entire time Leif forced her to practice, her hands aching and raw. But here—now, in the caravan, as her fingers deftly twist the frayed rope into place—she finally felt the truth in his words.
The knot took shape smoothly, as if her brother was crouching behind her, guiding her. When it held firm under Xian Jun’s testing pull, he gave her a brief nod, a flicker of surprise in his gaze.
“Good braid for a rope,” he remarked. “And a solid knot.”
“That’s an Aethonian Tidebinder’s knot,” Ru Rong observed. A gleam of admiration softened her tone. “Not something you learn on dry land. Who taught you that?”
Reiya shrugged, wiping her hands on her skirt. “My brother. He loves sailing. We live by the ocean, you see.”
Ru Rong hummed thoughtfully. “Impressive, Yara.”
The older woman tapped Reiya’s shoulder before returning to help Su Lian with the supplies, leaving behind a flicker of pride in her chest. She’d done something that mattered—not just for herself, but for the family.
It wasn’t the grand destiny she once dreamed of—but maybe it didn’t have to be.
For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like a tool shaped for someone else’s purpose—a vessel in service to an Alpha’s needs.
She felt like part of something real, however small—woven into the journey by her own hands, not expectation or force.
Straightening herself, she turned toward the wagon, steps sure despite the uncertainty of the road ahead.
Chapter Sixteen
KAELENDRIN
Five days in Bashkor, and still no sign of the princess.
The city sweltered under its own excess—spice-laden air thick with sweat and perfume, wealth and filth tangled in a restless dance of commerce and crime. Traders peddled silks and rare gems beneath bright awnings, while shadows whispered secrets meant to be bought, not overheard.
They’d begun at the most respectable inns and taverns, but no one had seen or heard of Princess Reiyana or Castiel. Odd, given the influence of House Vaelmont.
Or if anyone had, they weren’t speaking—not even for a generous bribe.
Kaelen rolled his shoulders, restless energy crackling beneath his skin. They’d followed every lead, questioned every dockhand, coin passing hands as freely as water pouring from a vessel.
And still, they had nothing.
Their last hope had been the Omega traders’ stronghold at the city’s edge—a grim cluster of warehouses shrouded in secrecy. They had stormed the place under cover of night, weapons drawn, expecting to find Reiyana locked away among others.
But the roomswere empty.
Not a single Omega in sight. Only the scent of damp stone and stale perfume. But it wasn’t even the absence of captives that disturbed Kaelen most.
It was what had been left behind.
He’d pocketed his finding, and as they stood in a quiet alley to regroup, he reached into his pouch and drew out the small vial of purple dust. He held it up to the dim light filtering through the overhead canvas canopy.
“So this is what they’re using,” he muttered.
Alarik took the vial, shaking it slightly so the fine powder shifted within the glass. “Purple limyerite,” he murmured. “A perilous substance. They subdue them with this?”
Kaelen nodded, jaw tight. “They mix it into teas, oils—whatever they can, or simply rub it into the Omega’s nostrils. Just enough to keep them pliant and obedient.”
Alarik exhaled slowly. “But Reiyana wasn’t there.”
“No.” The word left a bitter taste. “Let’s hope Castiel is still with her.”
Alarik’s expression darkened. “That’s not necessarily a comfort.”
