Tears stung her eyes. Her hands locked on the saddle, knuckles whitening, breath sharp in her chest. Her father commanded, her siblings ignored, others sneered. She had learned long ago her voice carried little weight. To be told she could speak freely . . . it felt like agift.
Then, she felt his lips brush her nape in a fleeting kiss, so light it could’ve been imagined. She closed her eyes. A shudder wracked her to the core, heat blooming where instinct told her an Alpha’s claim should go.
His presence overwhelmed her. This closeness overwhelmed her. His body pressed firm and solid behind her, a protective fortress. The steady beat of his heart, the strength of his arms, the stillness he carried—it all wrapped around her like something she hadn’t known she needed.
And without meaning to, she leaned back into him. An Omega’s silent confession of trust.
His voice came husky. “I know this won’t be easy, but I’ll do everything in my power to make this marriage work. I hope we’ll build something good together. Something lasting.”
JingYi turned her head, just enough to feel the rasp of his chin against her temple.
“I trust you,” she breathed. “And I will . . . try. I want this marriage to work too.”
The words surprised even her. But once spoken, they felt true. Doubts and hesitation pressed in. Fear clawed at her chest. But hope . . . for once,hopetriumphed.
Maybe she could belong with him. Maybe he could be a home.
They rode on. Beneath her, Duskwane’s gait was steady, and ahead stretched a landscape of rough beauty—fiery red rolling hills, thick forests looming at the edge of distant meadows, birdsong threading the wind. It wasn’t the manicured elegance of the Imperial Gardens, but it was free. Untamed. Alive.
She tightened her grip on the saddle, but her eyelids dragged—heavy as river stones. She told herself she could endure a little longer, but her body wasn’t listening. A night of no sleep was catching up to her, and every sway of the horse pulled her deeper into a warm, treacherous haze. Her head dipped before she caught it, her spine softening against her will.
“Forgive me—” she began, straightening abruptly.
His voice rumbled, a low vibration she felt through his chest. “We’ve still some time before Parandor. Best use the opportunity while you can.”
She stiffened. “I’m not tired.”
“Hm.” The sound was skeptical, almost a grunt. “Lean back anyway. Saves me from catching you when you finally drop.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he added, “It’s only sense, Princess. The horse won’t mind. Nor will I.”
For a moment, she sat rigid, caught between the desire to memorize every new sensation and the bone-deep pull of weariness. Then, cautiously, she let herself lean back into the solid warmth of him.
He shifted just enough to brace her, cradling her within the crook of his arms. “There,” he muttered, his breath stirring her veil. “Better.”
Her words came out half-slurred with drowsiness. “You’ll wake me when the castle comes into view?”
She couldn’t see him, but somehow, she knew he was smiling.
“I promise.”
Her eyes fluttered shut.
This time, she didn’t fight it.
Acareful touch on her arm stirred her, just enough to rouse her without startling.
“Princess.” Lord Wulfbane’s voice came close to her ear. “Wake. We’re nearly there.”
Her lashes fluttered open. Hoofbeats drummed a steady rhythm beneath her. The air was cooler now, the smell of hearth smoke stronger. She blinked against the spill of light filtering through the trees and straightened carefully in the saddle. His arm shifted as if by instinct, steadying her as she regained her balance. Ahead, the trees began to thin, their shadows loosening into bands of sunlight streaming gold across the road.
They crested a hill, the horizon opened, and her breath caught.
The castle. Grey stone towers caught the late light, their western faces burning gold while shadows gathered in the joins—ancient, solid, unmoved by time. She had imagined this place for weeks, but imagination had failed her. The curtain walls rose from the cliffs, moss-dark stone veined with ivy, their battlements cut against the sky.
Below, houses clustered in the hill’s shadow, their roofs exhaling thin smoke above the winding road. People lived there. People who looked up every day at those walls and called it home. She would soon be among them, and the weight of that—of finally arriving—settled deep in her stomach.
She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. When she glanced back, she saw he was watching her.
