Chapter 41
ALEXANDER
Alexander stood at the ship’s bow as Aethonia came into view, scanning for raven hair catching the light, obsidian eyes widening with surprise. Anything to end the torment of not knowing where she had gone.
There was no sign of her on the dock. No proof she was here either.
But if his reasoning was sound, she’d try to reach Bashkor. To find her there, he would need help navigating its layers of secrets.
Kaelendrin and Alarik had gone in and out of Bashkor since adulthood. If nothing else, his cousin had a talent for inserting himself into other people’s business. Newly married to the Aethonian princess, Kaelen might be able to imagine—at least a little—what it felt like to lose one’s wife.
He headed uphill toward the palace. The guards recognized his crest before his name. He’d been here not even a year ago, after all, competing for Princess Reiyana’s hand. If he hadn’t known any better, that might still have been enough.
Now, he doubted it.
A steward informed him the Tazahrin had gone to the lower market.
“Show me,” Alexander said.
He followed fast. The market square opened before him—sun-baked stones, chattering stalls, the distant gleam of the sea framed in hazy gold.
His guide gestured toward a shaded corner near the fountain where striped linen awnings fluttered lazily in the breeze.
The air smelled of crushed citrus, salted cream, and the briny harbour beyond.
Alexander saw Kaelendrin first. That shade of golden hair was difficult to miss.
He lounged the way only men who knew exactly how far they could fall and still survive ever did—legs stretched, back slouched, one arm sprawled along the bench. A small silver cup sweated in his hand, half-forgotten, the lemon ice inside gradually collapsing into syrup.
His brother Alarik stood a few paces behind, the shadow at the edge of the flame.
A lock of dark hair had come loose in the breeze, curling along his cheekbone, ignored.
Arms crossed, his expression was unreadable beneath the sharp tilt of his brows.
His gaze roamed with the vigilance of a brother who expected trouble and had made peace with being the one to handle it.
A life with Kaelen had certainly ensured he resigned himself to the role.
The bartering voices faded as Alexander crossed the square. Kaelen looked up and squinted, as if the sunlight had played a trick on his eyes.
“By Solthar’s grace,” he said, straightening. “When I wrote to tell you we’d be here, I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
“Trust me,” Alexander replied as he stopped in front of the bench, “I didn’t either.”
Kaelen rose fully now, giving him a once-over. “You look like a man who lost a fight with a storm.”
“I’ve been on a ship for six days.”
“That explains the appearance.” Alarik came forward. “But not the reason you’re here.”
Alexander dragged a hand through his hair, damp with salt and heat. “I’m looking for my wife.”
Kaelen raised a brow, amused. “Bit late for that, cousin. We already married the princess.”
Alexander resisted the urge to throttle him. “Not your wife. My wife. A X?en-Sarai Omega princess.”
The words dropped like an anchor. Kaelen blinked once. Alarik’s brows furrowed, arms unfolding at his sides.
“You’ve married?”
“About a month ago.”
Kaelen had the audacity to look aghast. “And we weren’t invited?”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “It was a small ceremony.”
“Too small to include your only cousin from your mother’s side?”
“You’re not my only cousin from my mother’s side.” He bit his tongue when he was so close to adding ‘distant’ cousin. If he relied on Kaelendrin helping to find JingYi, it would be poor form to offend him.
“Still,” Kaelen insisted, one hand pressed to the chest. “My presence would’ve added festivity to the celebration, I’m sure of it.”
“Why are you looking for her? Shouldn’t she be with you?” Alarik cut in. His golden eyes narrowed, scanning Alexander with the same instinctive wariness he’d use in the field. “Was she kidnapped?”
The question was enough to still Kaelen. His smile faded, spine straightening as if reminded this wasn’t just some unexpected social call.
“An Omega highborn, abducted?” Kaelen echoed, this time without jest.
Alexander shook his head. “No. Not abducted.” Not yet, at least. Every hour that passed tightened the noose around that fear. Omegas didn’t disappear without consequence. The memory of the dead woman in the lake resurfaced.
“She ran,” he said finally, forcing the words out. “Fled Blackwood-Veyrde and Tremore. I’ve been tracking her since.”
That earned him a stunned silence. Kaelen’s brows lifted. Alarik’s expression darkened, unreadable.
Then, blunt as ever, Kaelen blurted, “What did you do?”
Alexander met his cousin’s gaze head-on. He had no easy answer—only a silence heavy with guilt.
“I’ll explain on the way,” Alexander said, already turning toward the port. “There’s no time to lose. I believe she’s heading for Bashkor. You two know that city better than anyone. I need your help.”
Kaelen’s expression sobered instantly. “Of course. Whatever you need. But wait a moment. We’re expecting Reiyana back from Luneth’s temple any minute now. You might want to meet the healer she brought with her. She’s from X?en-Sarai, too.”
Alexander stopped in his tracks. His breath caught.
“A healer from X?en-Sarai?”
Kaelen nodded. “Reiya met her right here in the market—there, in front of the flower cart. The healer cured her pain like it was nothing.”
Alexander sucked in a breath.
Could it be her? Could he be that lucky?
Kaelen kept talking, unaware of the storm brewing behind his eyes.
“She’s quiet, has impeccable manners. Reiyana insists she’s the best thing to happen to her since our ship docked.
She’s in a delicate condition, did I tell you?
You should’ve seen her crossing Issoirea, cousin, sick the entire time.
Didn’t let go of the gunwale once. The healer sorted her out within the day.
And now? She’s glowing. Four months along and still refuses to rest. Alarik has to play a nursemaid. ”
“She needs the rest,” Alarik muttered, folding his arms.
Alexander barely heard him. His pulse pounded in his throat. The air thickened around him, too warm, too bright. His fingers had curled into fists at his sides before he realized it.
Kaelen turned to look past the market square. “They should be—ah. There they are.”
Alexander followed his gaze.
Two women stepped out from the shaded mouth of a narrow lane. Reiyana he recognized immediately—tall, radiant, dressed in seafoam silk. She laughed at something her companion said, one hand lifted to shield her eyes from the sun.
The second figure unravelled him completely.
She walked half a pace behind the princess, her movements more subdued. She limped slightly, favouring one leg. The sight struck him harder than any voice could have. That near-imperceptible hesitation before each step on uneven stones, the posture she held to protect the places that had been hurt.
No one else moved like that.
Her dress was simple: a soft blue muslin gown cinched neatly at the waist, the fabric clinging to her svelte form in the coastal breeze. No trailing silk or jewelled clasps, no desire to dazzle or draw attention. Her dark hair had been twisted into a tidy bun at her nape.
Blood rushed in his ears. Heart slammed against the walls of his chest.
His wife. His Omega.
The Alpha in him didn’t hesitate. It surged forward, a tide breaking through a dam. Pulse roared, vision tunnelled. The half-formed bond flared to life—jagged, aching, incomplete, as if even now, days later, it remembered the moment it almost sealed itself into permanence.
His fists clenched at his sides from the unbearable need to go to her, to grab her shoulders and say—what? He was sorry? He hadn’t known? He never wanted her to leave?
She stepped closer, still talking to Reiyana, unaware of the storm she was walking into. Then, as though sensing him, she looked up.
In that instant, the world narrowed.
She didn’t gasp or falter. Her eyes didn’t go wide with shock, nor did her lips part with his name, but he felt it all the same—the silent jolt, the unseen shudder inside her, the thread pulling taut between them. She took a step back. Just one.
The Alpha inside him roared. He moved without thinking, legs rapidly closing the space between them.
“JingYi—”
She didn’t flee, but she didn’t come to him either. That cut deeper than any blade.
Then, a man—an Alpha—strode forward and blocked his path, a sudden wall of sun-browned muscles and leather armour, a curved sword at the hip. His posture was calm but unmistakably ready, standing between him and the Omega he’d crossed the ocean to find.
His vision reddened. He barely registered Kaelen’s warning call or the sharp breath Alarik drew behind him. The square seemed to drain of sound, of presence, of everything but the figure positioned between him and his mate.
A jagged, shameful thought cut through the red haze: This man had been standing where he should have been.
A low sound rumbled from him. “Step aside.”
“I will not,” the soldier replied, voice level and unshaken. “I am sworn to protect Tazahrina Reiyana. That includes members of her household.”
A possessive snarl coiled in his throat. It didn’t matter who the Alpha was—soldier, noble, stranger. All that mattered was that JingYi stood behind the man, silent and pale and not reaching for Alexander.
His next words came through clenched teeth. “I will not ask again.”
The man’s hand drifted, calm as dusk, to the hilt of his blade. Something primal and volatile surged, distilled into pure, driving instinct, and he reached for his own blade.
But then—
“Stop.”
Her voice—composed, devastating—sliced clean through the moment.
Alexander froze. His gaze snapped past the man barring his way, locking onto his wife. She hadn’t moved, save to raise a single hand to stop him. The other hand, he now saw, rested lightly over her stomach.
And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.