She exhaled slowly. For a moment, there was only the night air and the distant sea.
Then, she heard familiar footsteps behind her.
“Would you like some company?” came Alexander’s voice.
She turned. He lingered a few paces away, not yet intruding, but not about to leave either. Something about that made her chest ache. He gave her space, even when he wanted to close it. Despite everything between them—all the distance, all the unanswered questions—she found herself nodding.
He joined her at the balustrade, resting one forearm along the stone. His presence warmed the space beside her, grounding without pressing. And wasn’t that the worst part? That she still found comfort in him. That even without certainty, shewantedhim here.
“Does Ambrose Vaelmont remind you of anyone?” she asked.
Alexander didn’t answer for a moment. “No. Should he?”
“I don’t know.” Her fingers knotted in the folds of her skirt. “There’s something . . . familiar, but I can’t put a finger on it.”
Alexander turned toward her. “You have good instincts, JingYi. Don’t talk yourself out of them.”
She gave a small, uncertain smile. “Even if they don’t make sense?”
“Especially then.”
Before she could answer, the velvet drapes parted.
“So, this is where you two went,” Kaelendrin drawled, his tone too light to disguise the tension in his eyes. Reiyana stood at his arm, pale and composed, though her posture leaned subtly toward fatigue. Alarik flanked her on the other side.
JingYi stepped forward at once. “You shouldn’t be standing so long.”
“I needed air,” Reiyana said, though her smile wavered. “And besides . . . I wasn’t the only one unsettled by that entrance.”
Kaelendrin gave a dry, humourless smile. “Both mother and son certainly know how to make a room bristle.”
JingYi looked at them. “Now that you’ve seen Castiel’s mother and brother, do you still doubt his death?”
Reiyana was quiet for a long moment. “She looked devastated. That much seemed real. But grief doesn’t prove death. And if anyone could orchestrate both . . .”
“If he was indeed attacked in the Numeria Desert,” Alexander interjected, “surely someone saw it. Are there truly no witnesses who can vouch for Castiel’s death?”
“The desert may seem empty,” Alarik replied, “but it watches everything. I’ve sent envoys to speak with the chieftains of Numeria’s five desert tribes. So far, they’re withholding answers. But with the right incentives, perhaps . . .”
“Still,” Kaelendrin said, restless fingers tapping the balustrade, “if the Duchess is grieving, perhaps she wasn’t told her son might still be alive.”
“Or,” Reiyana said coolly, “she’s simply a very good actor.”
A hush followed, pierced only by the faint strain of violins from the ballroom.
“I wouldn’t fault a mother for mourning her son,” Alarik said. “But even a mother’s grief cannot excuse what Castiel did—the lies, the abductions, the deaths he left in his wake.”
JingYi’s breath stuttered. She turned to Alexander, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like the woman in the lake.”
His jaw clenched. “Precisely.”
Kaelendrin’s eyes narrowed. “The woman in the lake?”
“We found a corpse near Parandor,” Alexander explained. “We believe she might be an Omega. JingYi examined her. She showed signs of prolonged exposure to purple limyerite.”
The night air seemed colder.
“Omegas and purple limyerite,” Reiyana murmured. “A dangerous combination.”
