“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the earlier edge softened.
She forced herself to respond, but her answer came out sharper than intended.
“Yes.”
She pressed her lips together, then added, softer, “Thank you. But I can handle the rest.”
Frustration gnawed at her. The moment had slipped from her grasp before she could prove—to herself more than anyone—that she didn’t need an Alpha to stand her ground.
She risked a glance at him. His expression was calm again, almost gentle, as if the confrontation had been no more than a passing inconvenience.
To him, perhaps it wasn’t.
A Sunborn prince, born to command, accustomed to deference without ever needing to raise his voice.
While Omegas clawed and bled for freedom, Alphas had it handed to them from the moment they Awakened—especially Alphas likehim.
The thought cut sharper than she liked, slicing through her gratitude. She drew a lungful of air, willing the resentment to cool.
It wasn’t Kaelen’s fault. He hadn’t chosen the life carved out forhim any more than she had. And he hadn’t tried to crush her spirit—only to shield it.
Still, she wanted—needed—to be more than a precious thing to protect.
“I meant it,” she said again. “I’m grateful. But I would’ve preferred to handle it myself.”
Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, quickly masked. His jaw tightened, but he inclined his head, letting her words settle without argument.
They both looked up when Elder Tasim, along with Xian Jun and Alarik, approached. The caravan leader, a short, portly man with white beard, sighed, casting a wary glance after Jodhar.
“He can be . . . rough,” he murmured. “But he’s valuable to us. His team’s one of the best out here. I can’t afford to have them soured against the caravan.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Better to not provoke him.”
Reiya’s grip tightened on the bucket’s handle. “Elder Tasim, I wasn’t provoking anyone. I was simply trying to fetch water.”
The elder’s expression softened, but his response made her stomach tighten. “I don’t doubt that, girl. But Alphas like Jodhar . . .” He hesitated, rubbing his temple. “They don’t let things go. They demand respect, especially from Betas.”
“And I demand mine,” she countered. “Why is it always the rest of us who have to make space for them?”
Kaelen stepped forward. “Respect is a two-way path, Elder. If Jodhar refuses to grasp that, someone should remind him.”
Tasim rubbed his temple. “We’ve tried. It doesn’t end well.”
Alarik, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. “There’s a difference between strength and control. If Jodhar is so valuable, then why does keeping him in line fall on everyone else?”
Tasim blinked at him, thrown by the remark.
Xian Jun joined in, voice quiet but firm. “Keeping a caravan safe isn’t just about numbers—it’s knowing when to stop a fire before it spreads.”
Alarik nodded. “You’re worried about Jodhar’s temper. But if he’smaking people afraid now, how long before they stop trusting you to rein him in?”
Tasim hesitated. For the first time, his gaze flickered with uncertainty.
“I’ll speak with him,” he conceded at last, rubbing his forehead. “He needs to understand there are lines he can’t cross.”
Reiya felt her frustration easing. It wasn’t a full victory, but it was movement. And for that, she was grateful. For once, it seemed as though someone was willing to speak not only for her, but for everyone who might feel the weight of men like Jodhar pressing down on them.
Once Elder Tasim walked away, Xian Jun’s gaze settled on her. “You still want to fetch the supplies from the market this morning?”
She met his eyes, feeling the weight of his question, the chance he was giving her to stay and take on another chore.
