Chapter 32 #2
“I will. And who knows? Maybe I’ll get good enough to challenge you one day.”
He laughed, warm and genuine. “I look forward to that.”
She smiled, satisfied to see him more like himself again. Their conversation had shifted into lighter waters, but in the quiet pauses, she remained attuned to him—offering her presence as a comfort without pressing for more than he was willing to share.
Kaelen settled onto the ground beside her and leaned back against the wagon, hands resting loosely on his knees. The moonlight highlighted the sharp lines of his profile, but there was a softness in his gaze when he looked at her.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Reiya blinked. “For what?”
“For this.” He gestured vaguely at the space between them. “For taking my mind off . . . everything. The fight. The questions. The Sunborn Alpha.” He shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Even just for a moment, it’s nice to feel like myself. Not what I am . . .”
For a moment, there was only the sound of the distant crowd.
She tilted her head, studying him. There was something raw in the way he spoke, a vulnerability he rarely let slip.
He lifted a hand to push his hair back, the motion drawing his sleeve higher, revealing the faint shimmer of the tattoo etched into his forearm.
The intricate sunburst caught the moonlight, its iridescence shifting like rippling water .
“I saw Alarik’s tattoo today,” she said carefully. “After our lesson, I asked him about it. He told me . . . about the trial.”
Kaelen turned fully to face her, the easy light in his expression dimming just a little. “Did he?”
She hesitated, but the small, unguarded flicker in his eyes urged her forward. “He told me he took the trial at ten,” she said gently. “And you were six.”
He exhaled, shoulders loosening slightly, as if her words had unlocked something deep within him. “It’s not a cherished memory for either of us.”
“Ten already seems so young,” she murmured, shaking her head. “But six—that’s . . .” The words tangled on her tongue, a knot of indignation and empathy she couldn’t swallow. “That’s far too much for someone so small.”
His lips curved into a faint, humourless smile.
“My father thought so too. I Awakened the night before my sixth birthday. He wanted to wait a few years before putting me through the Sunborn Trial, but the kingdom didn’t share his views.
Having an Alpha crown prince wasn’t enough.
They wanted proof that Asadia’s golden age was on the horizon. ”
His gaze drifted, something sharper flashing behind it. “In the end, it wasn’t really a choice. Not for him. Not for me. When the kingdom demands proof, someone pays the cost.”
“The cost you had to bear,” she said fiercely. “Both you and Alarik, though his burden was different.”
The lines of his face softened at the mention of his brother, fierce love breaking through. “Alarik had his own trials. His mother made sure of that. But even at our worst, we leaned on each other. We had to—no one else understood.”
“It says a lot about you both. To be pitted against each other and still hold on to each other after. Not everyone would have.”
Kaelen’s lips twitched into something bittersweet. “It wasn’t always easy. There were plenty of times the kingdom was just waiting for us to tear each other apart.”
She frowned. Waiting for them to tear each other apart? What did he mean? He didn’t explain further, and she didn’t press him, not yet .
“But we didn’t. We chose to stand together instead. Still.” His gaze flicked down to the tattoo on his forearm, his fingers brushing absently over the shimmering ink. “The trial left its mark on us both. Alarik still despises tests and competitions. He can’t even talk about it sometimes.”
And no wonder, she thought. Trials like that left scars far deeper than those inked into skin—scars that shaped how a person saw themselves and the world.
How much of Kaelen’s confidence, his charm, had been shaped by necessity rather than choice? How many times had he smiled to reassure others while carrying burdens no one could see?
She lowered her eyes to her lap. She, too, had been shaped by expectations—by the constraints of her caste, her title, her instincts.
But at least her struggles had been hidden, private.
His had been paraded before the world, emblazoned on his skin like a prisoner’s brand, demanded of him before he even understood what was being asked.
Her voice softened. “And you? Is the tattoo a difficult subject for you too?”
He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at the stars and letting out a sigh. She watched his throat bobbing as he swallowed several times.
“It used to be. For years, I hated it. I thought the tattoo controlled me, defined me. People saw it and thought they knew everything about me. That I was stronger, faster, better. But it wasn’t the real me, only what they expected me to be.”
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the intricate sunburst in its entirety. “It took years before I accepted being Sunborn as part of who I am.” He looked at her and smiled. “Then, I stopped fighting it. Instead, I decide what it means. What kind of Sunborn Alpha I want to be.”
Her attention lingered on the shimmering ink, her hand brushing absently over the bruise on her neck. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” he agreed, his voice quieter now. “Some days, it’s harder than others. But marks don’t own us. Not this one”—he tapped his forearm—“and not that one either.” His eyes drifted pointedly to her neck.
Reiya’s breath hitched as he gave the bite mark his full attention, a flush creeping up her skin that had nothing to do with warmth. Her hand cupped the bruise as if trying to erase it, but the touch only brought back the memory—sharp, raw, and unrelenting.
He shifted to face her. “Tell me, do you actually believe the nonsense Jodhar spewed about the bite mark?”
She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of it. “I don’t know.”
His brow arched. “Try again.”
She pressed her lips together, frustration rising—not just with him, but with herself. “I don’t want to believe it.”
“But deep down, you do?”
She hesitated, then forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid to know the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
Her throat tightened, but she refused to back down.
“That he was right . That my body—when I’m in Heat—won’t care who’s touching me.
That instincts will override everything else.
And one day, I won’t be able to stop myself.
I’ll become . . .” She swallowed hard. “A mindless thing, desperate for any Alpha’s touch. ”
Kaelen watched her silently for a moment. “What about earlier at the bathhouse? Did you care that it was us with you? Holding you?”
She hesitated, her face heating. “That was . . .” She shook her head. “ I don’t know. I thought I knew, but Jodhar’s taunting made me question everything all over again. Earlier, I was also under the influence of my Kindling symptoms.”
“And that made everything untrue?”
“No, but . . . how much of myself can I trust? I want to know if it was me in control.” She swallowed, her voice quieter now.
“I want to know if the pleasure I felt at your touch was because of the connection I’m building with you and Lark .
. . or if it was just my body reacting, telling me to latch onto an Alpha and fulfill some bodily purpose. ”
His lips parted slightly, as if he hadn’t expected her to say it outright .
But she wasn’t finished.
“And don’t you want to know, too?” Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she pushed forward, because this mattered—because they mattered. “Don’t you want to know if what I felt for you, for Lark was real? That it wasn’t instinct overriding everything?”
His golden eyes darkened, but he said nothing, watching her like she was something he had to study carefully.
A dozen words tangling behind her lips before she finally found the right ones.
“Because I think you both deserve an Omega who wants you —Kaelen, Alarik—not just any Alpha who happens to be there when the need arises.”
Kaelen sighed, shaking his head as if she were an impossible puzzle he couldn’t help but love solving. His lips quirked—somewhere between fondness and exasperation—but his eyes, warm and golden, held something deeper.
“What am I supposed to do with you when you’re being so lovely and maddeningly sensible?”
She blinked, thrown off-balance. “Because I ask too many questions?”
His hand lifted, fingers tracing the line of her jaw as if memorizing it. “Because every time you do, I only fall harder.”
She could only stare at him, her heart in her throat.
It felt as though he’d found the softest part of her—and pressed there.
Gently, unrelentingly. She swallowed against the swell rising in her chest. The space between them seemed to hum, drawn taut with something tender and electric, every nerve attuned to him.
Kaelen exhaled, thumb brushing her cheek, his voice dropping. “You’re an impossible woman, and yet—there’s no one else I want.”
Her lips curved slowly. “But I’ve often heard Alarik say you’re the impossible one.”
His smile softened, laughter spilling out like he couldn’t help it. His eyes glinted, a mix of amusement and something warmer. “Then perhaps the gods are teaching me a lesson.”
She let out a laugh too, and he tilted his head, studying her as if he wanted to hold onto this moment forever .
“Are you in Heat now?”
Her cheeks flushed. “No—no, I am not,” she said, the words tumbling over themselves before she could catch them.