She gave a faint smile. “You’re a crown prince. I bet you’ve sat in dozens.”
His mouth curved. “Plenty. Some better, some worse. But the company makes all the difference.”
Her fingers traced the table’s grain. “I used to walk through markets. Vendors would offer tea, small things to taste. I accepted, but I never stopped. Never sat. I thought . . . it might make people uncomfortable.”
His expression softened.
She exhaled. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he signalled to the maid. “Two spiced tamarind teas, please.”
Then, he met her gaze. “I’m honoured to be the first to sit with you.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest. She lowered her lashes, fingertips brushing the table. The space no longer felt like a hiding spot but a whisper of something real.
The server returned with two steaming cups. Kaelen raised his. “To new experiences.”
Reiya cupped hers, meeting his eyes over the rim. “To new experiences.”
The tea was rich with tamarind and warming spices, honey’s lingering sweetness threading through it. Setting her cup down, she eased into her seat, gaze drifting to her companion as he looked out the window. Sunlight softened the sharp lines of his profile, catching in his hair and along his jaw.
For once, there was no leather gauntlet on his arm.
Her eyes traced the iridescent markings curling over his skin—the shape of the Sunborn sigil, etched in delicate, glowing ink. It was the first time she’d seen it unobscured by leather or sleeve.
In the shifting light, his golden hair seemed to catch every beam, casting him in a soft, gilded glow. The further south and east they travelled, the more Reiya noticed how much he stood out—his fair skin and bright hair a stark contrast to the deeper brown tones of the locals.
For a crown prince of Asadia—a land of sun-bronzed skin and desert-born features—he hardly looked the part.
“Can I ask you something?”
He turned, curiosity glinting in his eye, but he didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”
“You don’t . . . look like most Asadians.” Her gaze lingered on his hair. “You must’ve stood out back home.”
A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips as he raked a hand through the pale strands. “You’re not the first to notice. Most aren’t as polite about it.”
His hand dropped to the table, resting just inches from hers. “My mother came from the north—a Tremorian nobleman’s Omega daughter. My father met her during a trade delegation. They say he fell for her the moment he saw her.”
That explained it, she thought, picturing the woman who’d passed her fair colouring to him.
“Is that how you know Alexander Wulfbane?”
Kaelen nodded, tilting his cup in an easy gesture. “Distantly. He and my mother trace back to the same ancestor a few generations ago.”
Leaning forward, she asked, “What was she like?”
His expression softened, his gaze drifting somewhere distant. “She died when I was three, so I don’t remember much. People say she was vibrant, the kind of person who’d fill a hall with laughter. My father calls her ‘rain after drought’—a blessing no one expected but couldn’t live without.”
Something caught in Reiya’s chest, picturing the boy he’d been, never knowing his mother, left with only stories of that warmth but too young to remember.
“Your parents had a love match?” she asked gently.
His smile was wistful. “Yes, something beyond duty or politics.”
She cradled her cup, letting its warmth settle her thoughts. “It’s rare, isn’t it? For an Alpha and Omega to have that kind of bond.”
His brow lifted thoughtfully. “Rare, yes. Omegas are scarce enough that any Alpha is fortunate to marry one. And love . . . tends to come second to alliances.”
