“The relief,” Alarik said, watching him closely. “I saw it the moment you spotted her. That charm you wear like armour—it cracked.”
He almost laughed, the usual quip ready on his tongue, but his brother’s words hit too close to deflect. He’d anticipated satisfaction—perhaps even pride—in fulfilling their task.
But seeing her again wasn’t triumph. It was breath after drowning, raw and instinctive, leaving no room for anything else.
“Guess I should’ve known you’d notice,” he replied, voice softer than he intended. “You’ve always known me best.”
“You don’t have to hide it from me. We both wondered if we’d ever find her.”
Kaelen arched a brow. “Yet you’ve barely said two words to her. You’d rather she thinks you’re distant? Unaffected?”
Alarik’s gaze tightened. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch, eyes flickering toward the direction of the caravanserai.
“Maybe,” he finally said. “Safer that way.”
“Safer for her, or for you?”
For a heartbeat, Alarik’s mask slipped, and something unspoken flickered between them before his gaze turned away, shadowed.
After what had happened last year, Alarik held himself apart from anything that stirred too deeply, standing at the edge but never stepping forward.
But Kaelen saw it now—the faint pull in the way his brother looked at Reiyana, as if some quiet tether had taken hold when no one was watching.
For the first time, Kaelen wondered if finding her—the kind of miracle fate didn’t grant lightly—had brought Alarik closer to that edge . . . or if he’d already crossed it, hoping no one would see.
They went to wash quickly, cold water from a well at the edge ofthe market rinsing away the dust. The sun already dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the market. As they left the well, his steps slowed.
A small patch of wildflowers had taken root along the roadside—bright clusters of golden blossoms swaying stubbornly in the evening breeze.
Without a word, he knelt, plucking a few stems with careful precision. His hands lingered as he tied them together with a strip of twine from his belt, crafting three small, evenly-sized bouquets.
Alarik arched a brow. “Since when did you start picking flowers?”
He shot his brother a sideways grin, tucking the posies into his belt. “Since I realized dinner invitations are best met with more than just an empty stomach. A little charm goes a long way.”
Alarik snorted, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Let’s hope they appreciate weeds as much as you do.”
By the time they reached the caravanserai, the sky had deepened into dusky purple. The family’s bonfire flickered just beyond the entrance, flames casting shifting patterns of gold and shadow against the wagons.
Kaelen’s gaze was drawn immediately to Reiyana—Yara. She sat beside Mei Mei, the child nestled under her arm, the colourful hair ribbons bouncing as she spoke animatedly to someone across the fire.
The princess smiled with an ease he hadn’t seen before—gestures light, face softened by warmth, unburdened by duty.
She seemed so settled here, slipping into the rhythms of this life as if it had always been hers. It was difficult to reconcile her with the woman he had first seen on the dais in Aethonia, watching the tournament unfold with distant, detached eyes. Back then, she’d been composed, untouchable—a princess locked in a gilded frame, meant to be admired, never reached. But here, by the fire beneath an open sky, she was laughing, present . . .alive.
And Kaelen wondered if she was still someone waiting to be found—or someone who’d already found herself.
Halfway to the fire, Alarik leaned closer to murmur, “It’s better for us to travel with the family until we reach a port. But let’s hope they’re not headed to Bashkor.”
Unease flickered at the mention of Bashkor. Whatever lay ahead, he wanted her far from that place, teeming with mercenaries eager to find her to collect the bounty. Travelling with the Xians would buy them cover—a clever disguise for a princess and two princes who, by birthright alone, drew more than their share of attention.
For now, blending in could buy them the time they needed to understand the path ahead.
They were close now. Mei Mei spotted them first, her face lighting up as she jumped to her feet, pointing.
“There they are!” she cried, delight sparking in her voice. “Look, Yara! Your friends are here!”
He couldn’t help but chuckle as they finally stood before the family. The women smiled warmly, while the man studied them with quiet contemplation.
