Purple limyerite.A rare substance, yet Castiel had known how to use it. Had known how to get it.
He had access. Connections. A supplier.
Her mind reeled, sifting through everything she thought she knew about him. A noble-born Beta, trained in courtly graces, raised among scholars and diplomats.
She clenched her jaw. This wasn’t just a betrayal of trust—it was a revelation of who he truly was beneath the mask. He’d played the part of a wistful lover, a man desperate to run away with her, but how far did that performance go? How long had he pretended to be someone he wasn’t?
Alarik exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. His eyes shut briefly, as if the weight behind them pressed too hard. She watched in silence, noting the tension gathered at his brow.
“Speculating won’t help when we’re still in the dark.” His voice was calm but firm. “For now, our priority is getting you home. Bashkor’s the closest port, but it’s crawling with mercenaries who might recognize you. The risk is too great. We’ll head east and avoid it.”
Reiya bit her lip, her gaze drifting toward the distant firelight of the campsite. “What if a mercenary here already suspects I’m not who I pretend to be?”
Alarik’s sharp inhale mirrored the unease curling in her stomach. Beside her, Kaelendrin stiffened, his expression darkening as he followed her line of sight.
“The Alpha who bit your neck,” he said, voice low, simmering with anger. “You meant him.”
She swallowed hard, the memory of Jodhar’s grip clawing back—the dull ache still lingering beneath her skin. “Jodhar. Elder Tasim—the caravan leader—hired his team for protection.”
Kaelendrin let out a dry, humourless laugh. “Protection. That’s rich.”
His mouth pressed into a hard line, tension thrumming beneath his words. “Doesn’t matter if he suspects anything.” His voice dropped lower, edged with something colder. “Because if he so much asbreatheswrong in your direction, I’ll make sure he regrets it.”
Her heart skipped. It wasn’t just the words—she could feel the promise in them, the unshakable certainty that the princes would follow through. Once, that kind of declaration might’ve made her recoil, but now . . . the weight of it settled differently.
Not as a claim, nor control, but as an assurance.
Alarik inclined his head, gaze sharp with quiet purpose. “The path you’ve chosen leads to Asadia, and we’ll follow it. Once there, we can regroup and arrange an army escort. That would give us the best chance of reaching Aethonia safely.”
The thought of an army escort settled over her, the first true shield against the dangers Castiel might have set in motion.
She could see the unspoken worry in their eyes. They understood the risks. Mercenaries—even those loyal to coin—only needed a glimpse of the bounty to switch sides. The princes could outbid their enemies, but who knew what price the other side was willing to pay?
And still, they were offering to escort her personally.
She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “You’d . . . do that for me?”
Kaelendrin gave a lighthearted shrug and grinned. “Wedidsay we wanted to get to know you, didn’t we?”
She looked between them, her pulse quickening. They’d offered her the chance once, and she’d turned away. Chosen Castiel instead.
Now, through coincidence or by Luneth’s grace, they’d found their way back to the same road. And this time, she wasn’t running in the other direction.
Besides . . .Asadia.
Staying on the road with the Xians felt right, and the promise of Asadia carried an unexpected comfort—like stepping into the storiesshe’d grown up with, finally seeing the foreign land she’d only heard about from passing visitors.
The thought stirred something inside her—a thrill whispering of freedom and possibility, even amid the danger.
She met their eyes.
“To Asadia, then.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
ALARIK
To Asadia, then.