Reiya pulled her shawl tighter, the evening chill settling over the caravanserai. As they drifted beyond the glow of the fires, warmth and noise faded, replaced by the quiet rustle of hay and the low grunts of cattle settling for the night. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it charged with something unspoken.
They were waiting for her to begin.
When the last of the lights blurred behind them, she turned.
“My family . . . Were they furious?”
Kaelendrin let out a breath, something between a scoff and a sigh. “More worried than furious.”
Alarik, more measured, said, “They feared the worst.”
Reiya swallowed against the guilt tightening in her throat.
Kaelendrin folded his arms, studying her with an unreadable expression. “You disappeared in the middle of the night. With Castiel.” His voice remained even, but the banked fire beneath it was unmistakable. “Didn’t you think that might . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Alarik was watching her carefully. “Your parents thought Castiel took you.” His voice was calm, but the weight behind it pressed against her like a hand on her chest. “They wanted to believe he manipulated you. Or worse. But now . . . it seems it was your idea.”
She didn’t look away. Her heart thundered, but her voice stayed steady. “It was.”
Kaelen exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “I don’t understand.”
There was no accusation in it, just something raw and tired. “You knew him since childhood. I understand. You trusted him. But after everything, after we offered . . .”
He broke off, the frown pulling at his brow. “What made you so sure he was the better choice?”
His words held no bite, no anger—just raw confusion so exposed it made her chest ache. The kind she hadn’t been prepared for.
Reiya forced her fists to unclench. “It wasn’t about him,” she admitted.
Kaelen’s eyes flickered, a quick spark of disbelief. “Wasn’t it?”
Her grip tightened again without thinking, the worn weave of the shawl biting into her palms. The words rose up, sharp-edged and trembling.
“I didn’t run to Castiel,” she said, each syllable a battle. “I ran from a life where I thought I wouldn’t have a say. From you.”
Kaelen stilled.
Across from him, Alarik exhaled, the sound rough. “Because of the pact.”
She hesitated, shame burning under her skin, but she nodded anyway. Truth deserved better than silence.
“I didn’t even want one Alpha,” she whispered. “Let alone two.”
Her fingers twisted the fabric harder, as if she could wring the fear out through her hands.
“With two, I was sure I wouldn’t have a voice at all.”
The words hung there, raw and final, too big to take back.
And for the first time, she let herself look fully at them—not as princes, not as Alphas, but as men she’d hurt because she hadn’t trusted herself enough to believe she could be wanted asherself.
Kaelendrin’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his stance did—subtle, instinctive—like her words had hit deeper than he wanted to admit.
“You never gave us the chance to prove you wrong,” he said quietly.
Reiya flinched, heat prickling beneath her skin. “I was afraid you couldn’t.”
He quirked a brow. “And now?”
