Chapter 11 #2
Her etiquette tutor would’ve wept; her mother would’ve fainted on the spot.
Reiya ignored the phantom echoes of disapproving voices as she shovelled spoonfuls into her mouth, not caring how the broth dribbled down her chin.
She heard Mei Mei giggle, but she pressed on, slurping from the bowl’s edge without shame.
A flask was passed to her next, and she drank greedily, the rich, earthy taste of goat’s milk coating her throat. She lowered the flask and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, ignoring the scandal such a gesture would’ve caused back home.
If this new identity required her to be someone else—unpolished and unapologetic—so be it.
“Slow down,” the older woman chided with a dry chuckle, ladling another serving into Reiya’s bowl. “The food isn’t going anywhere, girl.”
Reiya rested the bowl in her lap and took a moment to look around the fire, trying to read the expressions of those watching her.
The old woman’s eyes glinted with a sliver of quiet amusement, as though she found some private joke in Reiya’s presence.
Despite the lines of age on her face, her hair was glossy black without a trace of silver.
The man’s gaze stayed sharp, guarded, weighing every breath she took.
His wife, however, regarded her with something softer—curiosity tinged with gentle caution.
Only Mei Mei beamed openly, her bright grin cutting through the tension like sunlight after a storm.
“May I know the names of my rescuers?” Reiya asked, careful to keep her tone polite, testing the waters of their hospitality .
The man took some time before he nodded, as though deciding whether to share something as simple as a name.
“I am Xian Jun.” He first gestured toward the older woman beside him. “This is my mother, Ru Rong.” His hand then shifted to the woman at his other side, brushing against her arm with a familiarity softening his expression. “My wife, Su Lian.”
Then, with a faint smile—more for the little girl than for Reiya—he pointed to the child sitting beside her.
“And that one,” he added, “is our Mei Mei.”
The little girl puffed out her chest, clearly delighted to be mentioned. Her grin was infectious, and despite the knot of uncertainty in Reiya’s chest, she found herself smiling.
“Where were you heading?” Xian Jun asked.
Reiya hesitated. How much should she reveal? Was it wise to leave any trail leading back to her birth kingdom? How far did Castiel’s influence—and his allies—reach?
“Asadia,” she blurted. It felt strange on her tongue, as though her thoughts had reached for it without her consent.
Why Asadia? The question gnawed at her, but no clear answer surfaced—just fleeting images: Kaelendrin’s grin, bright and mischievous, and Alarik’s quiet gaze.
They lingered at the edges of her mind, leading her thoughts east, drawing her to the place she’d never seen and the two faces she couldn’t forget.
Xian Jun’s eyes flicked to her golden hair, her pale skin, reddened from sunburns. “You don’t look Asadian.”
“I’m from Neovallan,” Reiya said, the lie rolling smoothly off her tongue—a necessary shield she must learn to carry. “I was travelling to visit relatives in Asadia. My . . . my mother’s distant cousins.”
He shot her a skeptical look, the kind that weighed her quietly from head to toe.
“Asadia’s a long way off,” he said. “If that’s where you’re headed, you’ll need a coach from the nearest trading post—or a strong horse. Maybe even a camel. You won’t get far on foot.”
Ru Rong glanced up from where she was cleaning the remnants of their meal. “She can come with us as far as Vey’tar Oasis. From there, the Asadian border isn’t so far. ”
The man exhaled, the sound heavy with exasperation. He turned toward the older woman.
“ Níang —” He began, launching into rapid X?enguā. His words flowed fast and sharp, but his mother was quicker, her replies chopping through the conversation like a knife through vegetables.
Su Lian chimed in next, her voice soft but steady, threading her words between the sharp exchanges of mother and son. The debate grew animated—voices rising, hands moving, the rhythm of their language a swift dance Reiya couldn’t follow.
She leaned closer to Mei Mei, whispering, “What are they saying?”
The little girl grinned, as if pleased to be the one with all the answers. “ Bà still thinks you’re some kind of thief, prisoner, or slave. But L?o lao told him to open his eyes and really look at you. She said no thief or slave would have skin as smooth as yours.”
Reiya tried not to smile, but it tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And your mother?”
“Níang said it’s too dangerous to leave you here. There are mercenaries on the road and the next village is far away. She said we should bring you with us.”
Reiya glanced back at the adults still arguing, then inched even closer to Mei Mei. “What do you think?”
The girl tilted her head, studying her with the unfiltered honesty of a child. After a beat, she smiled brightly. “You look more like a princess than a slave to me!”
Reiya smiled despite herself, charmed by the girl’s candour. For all the innocence in her wide, dimpled grin, Mei Mei’s intuition was sharp.
“You’re quite perceptive,” Reiya whispered. “I’d say you’re wiser than most adults I know.”
Mei Mei’s grin widened, her small chest puffing with pride. “L?o lao says I have the best eyes in the family.”
“And I believe her,” Reiya replied, amusement flickering at the edges of her exhaustion.
She resisted the urge to sigh. If only the rest of the family were so quick to trust .
The sharp rhythm of conversation continued, punctuated by Xian Jun’s frustrated sighs and Ru Rong’s decisive hand gestures.
“Your father isn’t an easy man to convince,” she murmured to Mei Mei.
“Bà just worries too much. But L?o lao always wins. And Níang—she’s just as stubborn, even if she’s quieter about it.”
Drawing a steady breath, Reiya stood, each movement met with a dull ache that reminded her how far she’d been pushed. She turned toward Xian Jun, and at once, the argument around them stilled.
“I understand your hesitation,” Reiya said, meeting his wary gaze. “Your suspicion is justified, and I can’t blame you. The world is dangerous—I’ve learned that firsthand.”
She tilted her chin toward the raw welts circling her wrists, the rope burns a testament to her ordeal. “I don’t know much about life on the road, but if you let me travel with you, I’ll learn quickly. I promise I won’t be a burden.”
They had no reason to trust her, no obligation to take her in. But she must persuade them, because the alternative—alone in this wilderness, unprepared and hunted—was far more dangerous.
She had no money, no valuables beyond the wing-shaped pendant and the limyerite crystal dagger nestled deep in her pocket. Travelling with this family was her best chance, perhaps her only chance, to survive and find her way back.
Xian Jun’s gaze lingered on her, fingers flexing at his sides, as if caught between suspicion and reluctant acceptance.
Su Lian stepped behind Mei Mei, resting a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“All I know,” she said in Isseric, her voice quiet but firm, “if my child were in Yara’s place, I’d want strangers to show her kindness and help her to safety.”
Ru Rong stood, brushing sand from her skirt. “ Anh . Rōkuyu blesses those who help others on the road,” she said, her gaze pointed at her son. “We’re all travellers. The road belongs to everyone. Helping isn’t just tradition—it’s who we are.”
Reiya murmured a silent prayer of gratitude to Rōkuyu, said to guard wanderers and reward those who practiced kindness on the road. The god of equivalent exchange, he ensured no good deed went unrewarded, no kindness forgotten.
Xian Jun finally sighed, dragging a hand through his short black hair, resignation lining his features.
Ru Rong smiled, satisfied, folding her arms across her chest to assume the stance of a mother who’d won too many arguments to count. Su Lian sighed, the tension lifting from her frame. She offered Reiya a warm smile—one that, for the first time, truly reached her eyes.
Mei Mei leaned in, eyes sparkling. “See? L?o lao always wins.”
Reiya smothered a smile. “I was hoping she might.”
Xian Jun turned to her at last, expression still guarded, but his reluctant acceptance flickered like a door left slightly ajar.
“You can stay with us,” he said gruffly. “Until we reach Vey’tar Oasis. After that, you’re on your own.”
It wasn’t the warmest offer, but it was enough.
“Thank you.” Reiya dipped her head. “Vey’tar Oasis . . . that’s in the Numeria Desert, isn’t it?”
Ru Rong gave a small, approving nod. “Yes. Every year, the Talharen families gather there.”
Reiya tilted her head. “Talharen?”
“The nomadic families of the nine kingdoms,” Su Lian explained. “The Xians have been part of the Talharen for generations.”
Reiya caught the quiet pride in the woman’s voice—not boastful, but content. She could see it now—this family wasn’t just passing through the road; they belonged to it. And for a fleeting moment, she envied their certainty.
Ru Rong added, “We meet at the oasis each year for the festival. Songs, stories, trade for a whole week—there’s nothing quite like it.”
The anticipation in her voice stirred Reiya’s curiosity. A desert festival . . . the kind of gathering she’d only ever read about in books, far removed from her carefully managed life.
Xian Jun’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Before we go any further, I must ask you.”
He paused, sharp gaze locking onto hers.
“Are you an Omega? ”
The word landed hard beneath Reiya’s ribs. Her pulse faltered, but she straightened, smoothing her features into a mask of deliberate indifference.
Forcing a lightness she didn’t feel, she said, “Wouldn’t someone have stopped me before I ended up here? Don’t they keep Omegas safe—locked away, guarded like treasure?”
Xian Jun’s eyes stayed on her, unblinking, as if weighing every breath she took. He didn’t need to speak—the silence stretched tight between them. After a long pause, he gave a slow, reluctant nod.
“We travel alone now,” he explained, “but soon, we’ll join a caravan. There are rules we must follow.”
His voice stayed calm, but the warning ran just beneath it like an undertow.
“If there’s an Omega travelling with us, she must be reported. There’ll be Alphas among the caravan’s guards. They don’t handle surprises well.”
A cold knot twisted deeper in Reiya’s stomach.
One report. One careless word. That was all it would take for Castiel—or worse, one of his loyal dogs—to find her.
Or for some brute Alpha to claim her under some caravan’s law, binding her to a life she could never escape.
“No,” she said firmly, forcing the lie past the tightness in her throat. “I’m not an Omega.”
Xian Jun studied her for a long moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. She fought the urge to look away, to betray herself.
Then he turned without a word, reaching for a bundle of supplies.
“My cousin was an Omega.” He spoke almost absently, as if to the fire rather than to her. “The X?en emperor’s soldiers took her from her village.”
He paused, adjusting the rope around a rolled blanket. “She was nine.”
The words settled between them like a lock sliding into place.
Everyone was born Beta—undefined, ordinary—until nature chose otherwise. Some Awakened as Alphas, fewer still as Omegas, the shift coming anytime between childhood and eighteen—though there were rare exceptions, like herself, who presented later .
But once it came, there was no undoing it.
A child like Xian Jun’s cousin—from a common background, especially—would’ve been easy prey the moment her Omega nature surfaced.
Reiya held her silence, the lie curling on her tongue—heavier now, harder to carry with every second that passed.