Chapter 14 #2
Her pulse quickened. Aethonian soldiers? Hope flickered, but as she scanned for the royal blue banner—the insignia of a sailing ship under the sun—her heart sank. No silver shields. No braided rope designs.
Only bare shields, scuffed leather, and mercenary steel.
They were not rescuers—just hired blades, men loyal to coin alone.
Murmurs spread as families emerged from their tents, faces growing tighter with unease. Reiya gripped the buckets, every instinct screaming to move, to disappear into the crowd.
But her feet wouldn’t budge.
The mercenaries thundered into camp, hooves kicking up dust. Their leader dismounted in one smooth motion, chainmail clinking softly as his sharp gaze swept over the gathering crowd.
There was no urgency in his stance—just cold patience, a predator biding its time.
A prickle of unease crawled down Reiya’s spine .
“Good morrow, wanderers,” he called out. His expression was friendly, but his voice had a politeness that rang false.
Elder Tasim stepped forward, shoulders squared, his expression carefully neutral. “Good morrow to you as well, Sirs. What brings you to our camp?”
The mercenary smiled, teeth white against the grime on his face. “We’re looking for an Omega,” he said, his tone too smooth, too easy. “Poor thing got lost. We’re here to bring her home.”
Reiya’s stomach dropped. Her grip on the buckets faltered, water sloshing over the rims. Omega . The word slithered through her mind, tightening like a snare around her throat.
Had the news of her disappearance travelled this far already? Or was it a cruel coincidence? No—coincidence felt like too much to hope for.
Had Castiel sent them? Did someone track her from Aethonia? Or—gods forbid—did the Sparo draw the wrong kind of attention?
Her thoughts scrambled for answers, but all she could hear was the mercenary’s voice, curling around each word like a noose waiting to tighten.
Elder Tasim’s gaze flickered warily over the gathered families, his fingers combing through his white beard in a restless rhythm. “Sirs, we’re Beta merchants. We’ve hired a few Alpha guards for protection, but there are no Omegas among us.”
The mercenary tilted his head. “Is that so?”
“If there are, they would’ve been reported.”
The smile never left the mercenary’s face. “Then you won’t mind if we take a look. Just to be sure.”
Without waiting for permission, the mercenaries spread out, rifling through wagons, their sharp eyes combing every inch of the camp. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but no one dared to protest.
Reiya’s pulse hammered. Gently, she set the buckets down by the creek and slipped away, each step careful, measured.
Then, she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye.
Jodhar.
He lounged against a wagon wheel, arms crossed, his stance deceptively relaxed. But it was his smirk—small, knowing—that sent ice down her spine.
He’d been watching her. For how long? Was it for amusement, or something else?
But she knew, in that instant, that he knew .
He’d known what she was from the moment they met—before she’d even taken the herbalist’s remedy. The realization sent a fresh wave of panic twisting through her stomach.
She quickened her pace, slipping into the area in the back where the horses and cattle were kept, her breath coming faster as the thick scent of hay and damp earth swallowed her whole.
Would the herbalist’s remedy be enough to mask her Omega presence?
She crouched by the water trough, fingers plunging into the muck, smearing filth over her arms, her throat, her face—anywhere her scent might escape. The cool grit clung to her skin, but her heart pounded so hard it drowned out the sounds of the camp.
Outside, voices carried on the morning air. Gruff orders. The shuffle of boots. The clatter of wagons being searched.
She grabbed a handful of hay, scattering it in steady, deliberate motions. She had to look like she belonged here.
Like she was no one at all.
Suddenly, the crunch of gravel sounded behind her. Panic spiked, but she kept her movements calm. Xian Jun appeared, nearly stumbling into her, his expression tightening as he took in her mud-smeared face. Relief flickered briefly—then vanished when a mercenary loomed behind him.
She spun sharply, pretending to focus on a sheep nosing at her arm, but the weight of the mercenary’s gaze burned against her back. Then—too fast to stop—he lunged, yanking the scarf from her head.
Reiya gasped, whipping around as golden hair tumbled free, catching the sunlight in a cascading spill. The man’s nostrils flared, his chest rising with a slow, deliberate inhale—like a wolf scenting its prey.
Xian Jun’s low, measured voice broke the silence in Isseric. “May I help you?”
She kept her expression neutral, lifting her chin as though she had nothing to hide. The mercenary scrutinized her, eyes raking over her from head to toe, lips curling slightly in distaste at the sight of muck-covered skin and tangled hair.
“Is she yours?”
Xian Jun bent casually to retrieve the scarf and passed it back to her.
“Yes,” he said with a shrug, as if the question meant nothing. He grabbed a bale of hay from a nearby stack, pulling it free with a slight grunt.
“Her role?”
Xian Jun didn’t hesitate. “A servant.”
Without breaking eye contact with the man, he passed her the hay bale. “She tends the livestock.”
The mercenary’s eyes flickered. “She doesn’t look like one of you.”
Xian Jun let out an easy laugh. “The Talharen have spread across the nine kingdoms. We come in all shapes and colours.”
The man arched a brow but said nothing. The tense silence stretched. Reiya lowered her head and scattered the hay for the animals, hands moving methodically while her insides twisted.
She peered up just in time to see the mercenary’s hand drifting to the hilt of his sword. “We’re searching for a runaway Omega—golden hair, blue eyes, fair skin.” He paused, staring at Reiya, his brow furrowing. “Same colouring as this girl here.”
Xian Jun stepped forward. “I’m telling you, she’s part of our household.”
The man’s frown deepened, but he didn’t advance. “She’s rumoured to have washed ashore somewhere between Verosa Bay and Bashkor.”
“Verosa Bay?” Xian Jun sounded mildly surprised. “We took the eastern route along the Veilstrom Crest and avoided the coast. Too many pirates.”
“What about the other families?”
Xian Jun shrugged. “We keep to ourselves, but you’re welcome to question them.” His tone was calm, almost indifferent. “If we hear anything about the Omega, we’ll inform you immediately.”
The mercenary’s smile thinned. He let the silence hang, stretching it taut, until the only sound was her own thunderous heartbeats .
“Harbouring an Omega on the run comes at a cost,” he said, the warning clear in his low voice. “Disrupts the balance. Makes people nervous. Best not to get involved—tell everyone.”
He let the advice settle, gaze sweeping over Xian Jun and their surroundings, then turned on his heel, boots thudding against the packed earth.
As the mercenaries rode off, tension unravelled slowly, like a knot loosening but never fully undone. Reiya heard the merchants let out quiet sighs, conversations resuming in hushed tones, as if testing the air for lingering danger.
She remained frozen, the scarf twisting in her grip, heart pounding in her ears. The world moved around her, but she barely registered it—until Xian Jun’s steady voice broke through the haze.
“Breakfast’s ready,” he said, his tone even. “Clean up and join us.”