Just when the dryness grew unbearable, the land softened again—olive trees casting cool shadows across the road, streams threading their way through wildflowers and whispering grasses. The air turned lush with the smell of damp earth and herbs. Travellers clustered under date palms and fig trees, their laughter curling through the golden afternoon light.
Reiya shifted on the bench inside the wagon, the half-finished belt resting in her lap. Her fingers ached from the work, the repetitive weave of thread and cord, but she welcomed the rhythm.
The Great Salt Road demanded resilience. She could feel it in every jolt of the wagon, every passing breeze. For families like the Xians, it wasn’t just a path—it was a way of life, shifting and unpredictable, yet rewarding to those who learned to navigate its rhythms.
And if she wanted to find her place at the end of it, she would have to learn them—step by step, knot by knot.
Vhalis Thorn, she was learning, was a modest outpost, one of many dotting the Great Salt Road, named for the spiky vhalis shrubs clinging stubbornly to the dry earth in the area. The hardy plant flourished where little else could, much like the traders and travellers who passed through, pausing only long enough to barter, rest, and move on.
Reiya helped the Xians set up their stall, once again learning by doing. The market came to life around her: wagons painted in bright hues rolled in, the air buzzing with hearty greetings, laughter, and the clamour of bartering voices, the sounds so lively they brought a smile to her lips.
For a moment, she lost herself in the rhythm—the simple pleasure of blending into the crowd. Here, she was neither princess nor Omega, just another traveller in a modest dress, bright hair tucked beneath a scarf. Dust clung to her skin, sweat trickled down her back, but it didn’t matter.
It felt like freedom—but was it truly? It was still only an idea, fragile and half-formed, yet more real than anything she’d ever been allowed to claim.
Freedom had seemed simple when she first fled. Now, it raised more questions than answers. Yet, among the faceless crowd, it felt closer—almost within reach.
Then, the shift came—sharp and immediate.
She froze in front of the stall, a handful of pouches in her hands, when a prickling awareness cut through the calm. Her pulse quickened. The air around her thickened, charged with something unseen, like threads tightening against her skin.
Low masculine voices drifted to her ears, growing closer.Alphas. Their presence coiled through the noise, distinct and heavy, pressing against her senses.
A knot twisted low in her belly—not an unpleasant feeling but unwelcome all the same. Sweat slid between her breasts, heart hammering against her ribs. Her hands moved faster—not with purpose, but with desperation to disguise the tremor in her fingers.
Don’t look. Don’t react. Just work. Stay invisible.
The pull persisted, the thread coiling tighter with every second. It urged her to turn, to seek them out. The warmth curling low in her belly frightened her even more than the Alphas themselves.
They were close now. Too close. She’d heard seasoned Alphas could pick an Omega out of a crowd with little more than a breath of shared air. Instinct sharpened their senses, and no amount of willpower could hide the scent of an unclaimed Omega once it began to rise.
Any moment, one of them might brush against her back as they passed.
She snatched a bundle of dried herbs Ru Rong had prepared for sale, clutching it tight to her chest—a flimsy shield, but better than nothing. If she could mask her scent, even for a moment, maybe she’d disappear before they noticed her.
The Alphas passed behind her, their footsteps heavy against the packed earth. Reiya kept her gaze down, every instinct taut, counting her heartbeat until the market’s steady hum swallowed the echoes of their boots.
The tension unravelled slowly, leaving her with a tight chest and shaky limbs. She sighed, shoulders slumping, but awareness lingered, humming beneath her skin.
She clenched her fists. How many Alphas would join the caravan tomorrow? Seasoned ones? How many could she avoid?
The sun began to set, twilight softening into night. Torches flaredto life, illuminating the vibrant market. The moon climbed higher, but business showed no signs of slowing.
The Xians’ goods sold briskly. Su Lian’s crafts, with their intricate patterns, drew steady interest, and Ru Rong’s potions and salves were equally sought after. To Reiya’s quiet relief, two of her pouches sold. A young girl lingered over the belt she’d made, fingers brushing the embroidery. For a moment, Reiya thought she’d buy it, but the girl walked away before the sale.
She tucked the belt back into place with a small, resigned sigh. No matter, she told herself. Perhaps tomorrow—or the day after—it would find a new home.
As the crowd thinned, the lively hum softened into a quiet rhythm. Xian Jun counted a handful of coins from the day’s trade and tucked them into a leather pouch.
He held it out to Reiya. “Your share.”
Reiya’s brow furrowed. “That’s more than?—”
“You’ve earned it,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “Take it. You’ll find a use for it sooner than you think.”
She nodded and accepted without further argument, tucking it carefully into her pocket.
“Thank you.” The coins grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected. Gratitude stirred, twining with something quieter—pride.