“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the girl exclaimed. “I’ll go tell Bà you’re back.”
She grinned at the two men, excitement unfazed, and with a quick wave, darted back toward camp—her red tunic flashing bright before vanishing around a corner.
Mei Mei’s absence eft a charged silence between them. Kaelendrin’s smirk lingered. The tension in his shoulders slowly eased, a flicker of relief softening the humour he wore as easily as a second skin.
“Yara,” he said, the name rolling wryly off his tongue as if tasting it, “you certainly know how to make an entrance. Next time, though, might you consider an exit a little less . . . heart-stopping?”
Reiya’s cheeks warmed, but she didn’t look away. Her voice stayed smooth, steady, despite the flicker of nerves sparking beneath it.
“You make me sound so troublesome,” she said lightly. “Yet here you are, still following me, despite all the trouble.”
Kaelendrin’s grin deepened, wicked and unrepentant. “Can you blame us? When you vanish under such dubious circumstances, trouble tends to follow. We simply thought it wise to ensure your safety.”
Her fingers tightened slightly in her skirts, a quiet brace against the storm inside her. She’d spent days convincing herself they were gone—returned to Asadia, lost to the desert winds, their paths severed before they could truly begin.
Yet here they stood.
Close enough to touch.
A wave of emotions crashed over her, swift and disorienting—relief, disbelief, something dangerously close to hope. It was like stumbling into shelter after a long storm: sudden, jarring, she almost didn’t know how to trust it.
After a pause, she found her voice. “There’s so much to tell.” Her gaze flicked between them, her words wavering slightly. “I don’t know where to start.”
Alarik’s gaze sharpened, a flash of something raw crossing his face as he stepped forward.
His eyes locked on the side of her neck, and his expression darkened.
“Start withthat,” he growled.
His hand lifted, reaching toward the mark before he even seemed aware of it. The moment his fingers hovered close, Reiya stepped back. It wasn’t a conscious choice—just a reflex. The same instinct that had kept her guard up, the memory of Jodhar’s bite still raw beneath her skin.
Alarik’s hand lingered for a moment, brushing only the space between them, and in that heartbeat, she saw his gaze dimmed, shuttered. His hand dropped, and the distance between them felt colder, harsher.
The hurt that flashed across his face twisted something deep inside her, tightening her throat around words she couldn’t seem to find. The urge to explain nagged at her, to tell him it wasn’t him, that it was something far uglier and twisted that had nothing to do with him.
But her hesitation smothered the words, trapping them.
Kaelendrin’s voice cut in, smooth as ever but laced with something darker. “Is that Castiel’s handiwork?”
The question jolted her. She shook her head quickly, urgencybreaking through. “No, not Castiel. I left him days ago. I joined a family of travelling merchants, stopping here for a few days.”
Kaelendrin arched a brow, interest flickering across his face before his eyes narrowed, weighing the revelation.
Then, his face hardened, his tone dropping low. “The family you’re with, then? The father, perhaps?”
“No!” Her reply came stronger than she intended. She softened her voice. “They’ve shown me nothing but kindness. They’re good people.”
He studied her for a beat before his scowl eased. Reiya swallowed. She’d never seen such a thunderous expression on the lighthearted golden prince before. Not even when Castiel asked her to dance during the celebration ball.
The sight of it sent a thrill along her spine, and she wonderedwhy.
“Good to hear,” he said. “Then, who left that mark on you?”
Her fingers brushed over the bruise, anger flickering beneath her skin. “One of the Alpha guards. He thought he could . . . own me.” Her jaw tightened. “He was wrong.”
Kaelendrin’s expression darkened again. “Did he learn that lesson, or should we handle it ourselves?”
If his gaze was a storm, Alarik’s was frost. “Orboth.”
