The great hall hadn’t held a feast in years, but tonight, beeswax tapers climbed the walls, honey-sweet and clean. The new chimney drew well, pushing the draft from the cracks. He breathed roast and thyme, garlic and fat. Benches scraped. Cups knocked. Someone laughed—unguarded, from the belly—and the sound filled the ribs of the hall. It wasn’t grandeur, but better: living voices, warm light. The keep sounded like itself again, and the knot between his shoulders loosened.
At the head of the table, Alexander’s gaze strayed to the woman seated at his right. Princess JingYi wore indigo silk layered over pale blue, a silver-threaded veil concealing all but the faintest impression of her face. Candlelight caught on phoenix feathers stitched into the gauze, and for a heartbeat he thought he glimpsed the curve of her cheek, a flush just beneath.
She looked nothing like the wives or daughters of Tremorian nobility, yet she outshone them all—a radiance that made his chest cinch if he looked too long.
Lord and Lady Reave were the guests of honour tonight, having travelled to Parandor to break bread with them andattend tomorrow’s wedding. Lady Reave’s eyes glistened in the firelight as she placed a hand over her chest.
“My Conrad owes his life to your princess, Alexander,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “To be struck down in the forest by a poisoned blade—goddess above. Thank Luneth that Princess JingYi was there.”
“Your son had strength in him. He did most of the work,” the princess said softly.
Lord Krystoff Reave gave a low, appreciative chuckle. “Strength, aye, Conrad has that in spades, but stubbornness alone won’t draw poison from the blood. What you did was no small thing, Highness. You gave him a fighting chance.” The lord reached for his wife’s hand and squeezed. “We owe you a life debt.”
“There’s no debt between us,” the princess replied. “Conrad was in pain. I had the means to ease it. It was that simple.”
Alexander studied her—graceful, but never one to claim the centre of a room. Praise, he noted again, seemed to sit awkwardly on her shoulders, like a gown not tailored to her measurements.
Flanking their parents were Conrad’s elder brothers—the identical twins, Bastian and Bellamy, with their father’s brown hair and square jaws. Three of the Reave’s four sons were Awakened Alphas, a divine favour that secured alliances and drew wary respect. The eldest brother and heir, Aurell, stationed at Tremore’s eastern frontier under the King’s military council, was notably absent. But in his place, the twins projected a relaxed, almost playful confidence.
They were polite, for the most part. Yet Alexander marked how their eyes lingered on his bride, and an unfamiliar, grating irritation burned low in his gut.
Bellamy raised his goblet in a measured salute, a rather charming smile on his lips. “Your Highness, we’ve heard thestories. Soldiers tend to embellish, of course, but after seeing our brother’s condition, those stories don’t do your skill justice.”
JingYi inclined her head and didn’t speak, though the veil stirred as if an exhale passed beneath it.
Bastian grinned, mischief flashing in his eyes. “Careful, Bell. Complimenting a woman that way might earn you a bruised jaw from her husband.”
Alexander forced a smile. “I trust your jaw would hold, Bellamy, but the bruise won’t gain you any admirer at the wedding tomorrow.”
A beat of silence passed. Then, Lord Reave gave a short laugh, clapping a hand on the table. “Solthar be praised, it’s good to hear a Wulfbane with some spirit again.”
Bellamy winked at him and dipped his head. “No offense meant, my lord. Your bride commands the room. One can’t help but notice.”
Alexander gave a clipped reply, “She commands far more than that.”
His hand curled slightly around the base of his wine goblet.Harmless.Bellamy and Bastian were harmless boys. Still, he’d prefer they kept their compliments, and their eyes, to themselves. Especially Bastian, who couldn’t stop staring at his betrothed as if she were a riddle he wished to study at length.
Krystoff’s eyes met Alexander’s, and the older man’s expression softened. There was no mistaking the approval in his crinkled gaze.
“How enchanting she is, my boy,” he murmured, leaning in. “The king has bestowed a rare treasure upon you.”
His hand clasped Alexander’s shoulder in a familiar, fatherly gesture. The praise was a blow to the sternum. For a disorienting second, the hall’s noise faded, and he was nine years old again, breathless and bloody after felling his first stag, seeing that same approving crinkle at the corner of Krystoff’s eyes. It had been along time since a father figure had looked at him with anything resembling pride. He had learned to build his life from the bones of ruin and accepted, long ago, that his efforts might not amount to anything.
But now, here, with Krystoff’s steady gaze and his radiant bride at his side, the well-worn ache finally eased.
Krystoff’s mirth cooled to worry. “Still . . . Omega traffickers? In our border woods? It’s been a while since we’ve had to deal with those vermin.”
Lady Reave’s mouth thinned. “They came for the princess, didn’t they?”
Alexander nodded. “We think so. It was an organized attack. We couldn’t capture anyone alive to question.”
As servants cleared plates, he kept his eyes on Krystoff. “Have your stewards reported any woman missing from the villages?”
“No. Why?”
Alexander flicked a glance to Lady Reave, wondering if the change of topic would be too morbid. “We pulled an unknown woman’s body from Draemir Lake. I’ve sent word to the magistrate.”
Silence settled. Lady Reave’s fingers whitened on her goblet. “Do you think it’s connected to the attack on the princess?”