He moved to check Duskwane’s girth, secured the saddle, then caught Conrad’s grin from the corner of his eye.
“Something to say, Pup?”
“Just thinking, my lord,” the boy drawled, “how eager you seem to return to Parandor. Must be the scent of home.”
Tedric chuckled. “Or the joy of having an Omega wife, waiting.”
Before either could say more, Darion cuffed them both on the back of the neck. “You two keep flapping your tongues, and I’ll present you to Her Highness myself, all gagged and trussed up.”
Alexander turned to face them fully. His voice was even, but he let steel thread through it. “Keep your banter clean and your mouths shut in her presence. I won’t have her made uncomfortable. Not by anyone, and certainly not by those under my command.”
Both men straightened, chastened.
“Apologies, my lord,” Tedric mumbled.
“Didn’t mean any harm,” Conrad added quickly.
Alexander gave a short nod and swung up onto Duskwane’s saddle. “I know. But she’s lived a long time surrounded by sneers, not safety. She’s learning what it means to be protected,not judged. I want her to feel that difference when she’s among us.”
Tedric looked up, eyes widening. Conrad’s grin faded into a rather awed expression.
Darion chuckled, breaking the tension. “You’ve changed.”
Alexander didn’t reply. He settled his weight in the saddle and adjusted the reins. The air still carried the tang of limyerite dust, but as he breathed in, it felt lighter now. Less oppressive.
Yes. Hehadchanged.
The bitterness that had lived under his ribs for over twenty years—shaped by failure, duty, and a father’s ruin—had begun to loosen. He’d expected marriage to be a transaction, a remedy for a failing House. But JingYi . . . she had become something far more vital.
Even now, he felt the thrum beneath his skin, the pull of bond and scent and need. Not desire, though there would always be that between an Alpha and his Omega, but something deeper: a yearning for her voice, her steadiness. Her intelligence. Her laugh, which he had yet to earn.JingYi.The thought of her was a steady beacon. He couldn’t wait to return home to her. The wind bit his cheeks, the scent of hearth smoke thick in the air, as the horse’s hooves ate up the distance and the sun dipped lower, gilding the hills in amber.
Yrenna was crossing the courtyard with a bundle of herbs when he arrived.
“Where is JingYi?” he asked.
She looked up at him, squinting against the late afternoon sun. “She went to Lornhelm. But she promised to return before supper.”
Alexander nearly smiled. It was just like her, throwing herself back into motion the moment her Heat abated. It had only been two days since her last visit, but no doubt she’d wanted to check on her patients’ conditions.
He already turned away when Yrenna called after him.
“Alexander—wait. Aliz said a messenger from the palace came this morning. JingYi took the letter and left it for you in your study.”
He frowned. What message could it be this time?
He made his way inside. The study door creaked open under his palm, spilling warm light across the floor. There, on the centre of the desk, lay a single sheet of parchment. But atop it?—
A glint of silver-blue caught his eye.
His breath snagged in his throat. JingYi’s wedding ring, inset with limyerite, rested on the parchment. His heart stuttered as he stepped closer. He lifted the letter, scanning the king’s seal, and the words struck like a fist to the chest.
Annulment. The king spoke of his annulment request as if it had already been received and weighed.
His fingers went cold.How?
He yanked open the drawer where he’d left that cursed draft on his wedding night, rummaging through papers until they spilled to the floor.
Nothing. The letter was gone.