She cupped a handful of lake water, moonlight trembling on its surface, and wondered what he thought of this marriage. An Alpha lord with his wealth and standing wouldn’t lack choices for a beautiful, suitable Omega.
Why me?
A sharper thought pushed through: perhaps he, too, knew what it was to be alone. His eyes had held shadows—an echo of the same solitude that bound her. The idea was unfathomable . . . and strangely comforting.
She exhaled. For a fragile moment, she closed her eyes and let herself unwind, enjoying the peace, the stillness.
Until something brushed her back.
She froze.
Another touch—softer, like silk. Then, heavier.
Her heart hammered as she turned.
The moon broke free of a passing cloud, washing over the lake in a silver glow. There, a hand’s breadth away, a pale body floated on the surface, limbs slack, long dark hair streaming like river grass in the water.
JingYi held still.
And watched as the dead drifted to greet her.
CHAPTER 9
ALEXANDER
The fragrance reached him first—floral and smoky, earthy, like roasted tea and sandalwood and anise—threading through the crisp bite of autumn woods.It was alluring, but he didn’t believe it was her true scent. That part remained a mystery. Next was the sound of water rippling, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and the rustle of fabric against skin.
Her soft voice reached him. “You may turn now, my lord.”
He turned.
She stood a few paces from the shore, dressed in a much humbler garb than before: a sand-coloured tunic cinched with a plain brown belt, a darker skirt brushing her ankles. The stitches were worn, the colours muted—practical, even plain to the point of seeming shabby.
Clever, he thought. If she feared another ambush, plainer attire was no fool’s choice.
Still, she wore the half-veil—drawn like a curtain between them.
“My lord.” She shifted her weight. “There is . . . something you should see.”
Her tone made him straighten. Gone was the tentativeness, and in its place, something calm and grave.
He followed her to a narrow curve in the lake, where stones jutted out from the bank and reeds swayed. Moonlight flickered over the water’s edge.
Then, he sawit.
A woman’s body lay half-shrouded in the reeds, dark hair streaming over the pebbles like wet silk. Her skin was the colour of old wax, eyes open and fixed on a sky they’d no longer see. She looked as though the lake had tried to claim her, then changed its mind.
The air left Alexander’s lung. Death was no stranger to him. He had seen its work on battlefields and in winter-starved villages, but this was different. This was a violation, a sinister loss of life happening on the threshold of his home. A cold anger began to coil beneath his ribs.
“I found her in the water,” the princess said softly. “She drifted toward me.”
The silence between them thickened, filled with the unasked questions:How did she die? Why was she left here?
He spoke at last, his voice low, each word measured, “I was told you were born in the Year of the Raven.”
She looked at him, a flicker of wariness in her dark eyes.
“And I,” he said, his gaze returning to the pallid form on the shore, “the Year of the Wolf.” The old tale surfaced in his mind, a stark, bloody truth of the wild. “They say ravens and wolves hunt together. The bird leads the wolf to the carcass.”