Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
REIYANA
D ays blurred together in a haze of dust, jolting wagon wheels, and endless stretches of road.
When the caravan finally crested a rise and the city of Zohara spilled into view, Reiya sat straighter, a slow knot of anticipation tightening in her chest. It sprawled outward in every direction, a chaos of colours, scents, and shouting voices—pulsing with a life she hadn’t realized she missed until it surrounded her.
The paths twisted like rivers through a forest of colour, each canopy of silk and linen snapping in the breeze like sails waiting for the tide.
Smoke curled from roasting spits, thick with spice and meat and incense, clinging to her skin and clothes as they passed.
The wild blend of scents and sounds stirred something in her chest—a restless, eager beat she hadn’t felt in far too long.
Her gaze swept the stalls: bright cloths spilling from tables, lantern-lit alcoves tucked into shadowed corners, the fading murals of a domed temple peeling into soft, sun-washed memories.
There was a rough, earthy pulse to this place—a hum of voices and laughter, of deals struck and names shouted into the heat.
So different from the neat, friendly markets of Nymaris .
Yet somewhere beneath the noise and smoke and clatter, something in its rhythm tugged at her—familiar, and aching.
She thought of Nymaris’s narrow market lanes, where she used to wander with Fia trailing behind her, marvelling at goods unloaded from the piers.
There, all the vendors knew her, greeting her with warm smiles and respectful bows.
Those walks had been a sanctuary—a reminder that beyond the demands of court, life unfolded in a thousand quiet stories.
Here, she was just another face in the crowd.
Her heart ached for home—but in Zohara’s vibrant chaos, there was solace too. As if, in the hum of strangers and shifting tides, she might catch a fleeting echo of what she had left behind.
When the Xians mentioned needing supplies—wool thread, saffron, goat’s milk soap—she’d volunteered to fetch them, a way to prove she wasn’t just an added burden.
With the small list folded in her palm—already damp from her nervous grip—she ventured into the maze of stalls, weaving through the crowd, dodging elbows and carts piled high with trinkets.
‘The stalls are numbered,’ Xian Jun had said, pointing to chalked numbers along the awnings. ‘There are more people here than at the last stop. Pay attention to where you’re going.’
She tried to follow Xian Jun’s instructions, tracking the chalked numbers, but the layout felt slippery, shifting beneath her feet.
Scents sharpened, unfamiliar, while the crowd’s chatter blurred into an oppressive roar.
She turned to retrace her steps, but the alleys looked different—subtly altered, as if the market itself had rearranged around her.
Her pulse quickened. She tightened her grip on the list, her gaze darting for something—anything—familiar. But strangers surrounded her now, their words foreign, their glances indifferent.
Reiya forced herself to calm. She couldn’t have been far from the Xians’ stall—just a few wrong turns. Yet, with each step, the way back stretched further, the market twisting like a maze she hadn’t realized she’d entered.
‘You’re fine,’ she told herself, though her knuckles whitened around the list. ‘Don’t panic. ’
The crowd pressed closer—too many sour bodies brushing past—and the paths she thought she knew slipped further from reach.
She approached a vendor. “Excuse me,” she said in Isseric, keeping her tone friendly, “do you know where the wool trader’s stall is?”
The woman glanced up, eyes sharp and dismissive, muttering something in the local dialect before turning back to stack earthenware bowls.
She tried again with a passerby, but her words met only blank stares and hurried shrugs.
Her Isseric fell flat here; every person she stopped replied in clipped, rapid phrases she couldn’t untangle, their indifference intimidating.
What had once felt like freedom now pressed in, the crowd swallowing her voice with every unanswered question.
Then she heard his voice—low, rough, with the faintest hint of amusement.
“Lost, baby bird?”
Reiya turned sharply, pulse quickening as she spotted Jodhar leaning casually against a stone wall, eyes glinting with the satisfaction of a cat watching a mouse struggle.
Slowly, the crowd seemed to part around him, shifting and skirting his presence with an unconscious wariness, sensing the brute Alpha force simmering beneath his calm exterior.
His dark gaze tracked her movements, intent and piercing, as though he already knew how she’d ended up here, alone and vulnerable.
After he bought her belt, they hadn’t spoken again, but Reiya often caught his eyes lingering on her as she moved about the camp, quietly performing her tasks. She’d made a point to keep her distance, but it didn’t stop him from watching her from afar.
And that pet name he used coiled in her gut. Baby bird. He’d called her that so casually, yet it was too close to Castiel’s dove for comfort.
“You look like you could use a guide,” Jodhar drawled, tilting his head just enough for the glint of a silver ear cuff to catch her eye. “These markets tend to twist and turn. People get . . . lost.”
His voice lingered on the last word, as if it meant more than just losing one’s way. Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to get away now, but Jodhar had already pushed off the wall .
“Come now,” he murmured. “No sense wandering where you don’t belong.”
Reiya scanned her surroundings, searching desperately for a familiar landmark, a chalked stall number to guide her back without relying on Jodhar. But the market stretched endlessly around her, and the thought of wandering further, only to lose herself even more, twisted her stomach.
Her gaze drifted back to Jodhar. If he led her back to the family, she could start over without him looming nearby. Her choices felt as narrow as the winding stalls around her. She could refuse and risk sinking deeper into the maze . . . or take a guarded chance.
With a reluctant exhale, she steadied herself. “You’ll take me back to the Xians’ stall?“
His grin widened—not quite friendly, not entirely cruel, but unsettlingly assured. He already knew she’d have no choice but to follow.
“Wouldn’t want anything happening to a pretty little thing like you, would we?”
Before she could respond, Jodhar shifted, standing beside her with disturbing familiarity.
His shoulder brushed hers, not enough to be aggressive but just enough to stake a quiet claim—a hunter marking territory.
They began to walk side by side. The path narrowed, and the hum of the market thinned, the crowd seeming to dissolve behind them.
“You always wander off like this?” Jodhar’s low voice made the hairs on her arms stand on end. He smiled lazily, as if he knew precisely how uneasy she was and found it entertaining.
Reiya gripped the list in her hand. “Just running an errand.”
Jodhar chuckled, a deep sound that had her jaw clenching. His gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of discomfort in its wake. “These alleys twist more than you’d think. Easy to get turned around, and easier still to disappear.”
His smile was all teeth, the words landing like a shove—and he watched her brace for more. With an easy gesture, he pointed down a side alley. “This way.”
Reluctance tugged at her as she followed. The market’s lively hum soon faded behind them, swallowed by an eerie hush. Here, the stalls were sparse, wares hidden under faded cloths, and the vibrant colours of the main thoroughfare dimmed into shadowed corners and narrow paths.
Her hand slipped into her pocket, tightening around her blade, each step amplifying her fear. Here, shops were shabbier, offering only scraps and oddments, and the few people in sight passed without care, faces half-lost in the shadows of their head scarves.
She slowed. “Is this really the way back?”
Jodhar barely looked over his shoulder, a smirk playing at his lips. “Shortcut. You’re in a hurry to get back, right?”
Reiya hesitated, her instincts warning her to turn back, but the thought of navigating the maze alone kept her moving forward. She glanced back, hoping to glimpse the bustling market, but the twisting alleys had swallowed the way.
They reached a lonely narrow passage boxed in by high walls, strewn with broken crates and scraps of cloth.
A dead end.
Reiya’s pulse spiked. She spun to retrace her steps, but Jodhar’s hand closed around her wrist.
“Going somewhere, baby bird?” His voice curled with amusement, but there was an oppressive weight behind it—something darker lurking beneath the surface. His grip tightened just enough to remind her there would be no slipping away.
“I thought you were taking me back,” she said, keeping her tone even, though her pulse hammered at her throat.
Jodhar leaned in, close enough that she felt the heat rolling off his skin, smelled the musk of an Alpha, thick with leather and sweat. It coiled around her, but instead of stirring her instinct, it curdled her stomach.
“I am. Eventually.”
His eyes pinned her in place. There was no mistaking the glint—he was testing, probing, peeling back the layers she tried to wrap around herself.
“Those Betas have no idea what you are, do they?” His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, the motion slow, mocking, like he was measuring her pulse through his fingertips .
Reiya stiffened. “They know precisely what I am—a servant.”
His laugh was a rough scrape of sound. “You can dress like one and act like one. You can even take suppression remedies to try to be one, but your scent tells another story.”
Panic thrummed under her skin, but she met his gaze, unflinching. “You presume too much.”
His fingers flexed, pressing into a vein, a warning in the shift of pressure. He leaned in, stale air grazing her ear.