Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
REIYANA
T hey stayed and watched Kaelen until his breathing evened out, his body surrendering to slumber. The faint flicker of his Sunborn tattoo had steadied now, its glow subtle but reassuring.
Then, to let him rest undisturbed, they stepped outside. The chaos had faded, but it left something behind—a quiet unease. A few guards still patrolled the outskirts, their watchful eyes scanning the horizon.
Alarik knelt behind the family’s wagon, coaxing a small flame to life. The sparks caught, and soon a steady fire crackled between them, chasing away the night’s lingering chill. He gestured her to join him, and she sank onto the ground beside him, pulling a blanket tightly around her shoulders.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sounds the gentle pop of burning wood and the whisper of wind brushing over the dunes. Above them, the stars stretched vast and endless, scattered across the sky like a million tiny promises of peace.
“We’ll let Kaelen rest before we depart,” he said—voice even, but she caught the exhaustion in it. “Jodhar’s men were wounded. They’ll need time to recover. They went west, so we’ll go east, take the lesser-known paths. With enough distance and the cover of darkness, we might outrun them.”
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “How far is Asadia?”
“If we leave before dawn,” he replied, eyes fixed on the fire, “we’ll reach Mezerin’s gates by sunset.”
Her gaze flicked toward the wagon where Kaelen lay sleeping. “Can he make it?”
Alarik’s jaw tightened as he followed her gaze, then turned back to the fire. “If the journey stays uneventful, yes.” A muscle ticked in his cheek. “But if Jodhar and his men catch up to us. If they ambush us . . .”
His fists clenched, knuckles white against the firelight.
“I’ll get us home,” he vowed. “No matter what.”
A beat of silence stretched between them before he exhaled, lifting an arm in quiet invitation. She didn’t hesitate. Leaning into him, she pressed her side against his, drawn to his warmth.
He shifted slightly, settling her into a more comfortable position. The tension in his shoulders eased as she rested her head against his chest. He adjusted the blanket around them, the soft rustle of fabric blending with the crackling fire.
“When we were children,” he began, “we used to take turns taming wild horses. It was a test of patience—to prove we weren’t their enemies, but their companions for life.”
A faint chuckle escaped him. “Kaelen always picked the most difficult ones—the ones no one could break. He took more falls than I could count, came back with bruises, cracked ribs—but he never gave up.”
Reiya listened, the tightness in her chest lightening a touch.
“Then, there was Shahram. A devil when we found him. A stallion born to the desert winds—wild, untamed, unwilling to bow. No one could get close without being thrown into the dirt. The stablemasters said he was a lost cause.”
A smile curled her lips. “Let me guess. Kaelen took that as a challenge.”
His chest rumbled beneath her ear as he chuckled. “He spent weeks outside Shahram’s pen, just sitting there. Talking to him, feeding him by hand, letting the stallion set the pace. It drove our father mad. Said he was wasting time, told him to pick a more suitable horse.”
Her smile deepened, already knowing how this tale ended. “But he didn’t.”
“Of course not. He already chose—even if Shahram didn’t choose him yet.” Alarik exhaled, a fierce fondness in his voice. “The first time he tried to ride the horse, Shahram nearly trampled him. He spent a whole day in bed with a broken arm and a bruised ego before his Sunborn blood cured him.”
“That sounds like Kaelen.”
Alarik chuckled. “It does, doesn’t it?” His gaze softened. “Took months, but one day, Shahram let him on his back.” He turned to her, steady, certain. “That’s how I know he’ll survive this. He’ll continue fighting for what matters. He won’t give up now, not when we’ve only just begun.”
She swallowed hard. The image of Kaelen—bleeding, poisoned, but still pushing forward despite the fall, steadied the turmoil inside her.
He’d come back. He always did.
Alarik drew her closer, and she rested her face against his shoulder.
In the quiet, his solid presence felt like something rare—honest and unguarded.
The silence between them wasn’t heavy; it was steadying.
For a while, neither of them moved. Just being beside him brought a calm she hadn’t realized she needed.
His breathing was slow and even, and she let herself match it, one pull at a time.
Slowly, she lifted her head, the brush of her hair whispering against his jaw. Shadows had softened the sharpness of his features. His gaze met hers—open, searching—and for a moment, nothing else existed.
“Alarik,” she began, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes caught the firelight and made it amber, softening in silent encouragement. She rested her palm against his chest. “Earlier, when I danced with Kaelen, he mentioned an Omega you both loved.”
His body tensed, fingers faltering against her back, but he didn’t pull away.
She felt the hesitation ripple through him, and for a heartbeat, she feared he might shut her out again. But his warmth stayed, steady beneath her hands .
“Anna?s,” he said.
She kept her voice gentle. “Will you . . . tell me about her?”
For a moment, she thought he might refuse. His jaw tensed, and he shifted his gaze to the fire.
“She’s the High Chancellor’s daughter. Beautiful. Graceful. Charming. And I was foolish enough to think those things meant goodness.” His lips curved faintly—something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I would’ve done anything for her, and she knew it.”
Reiya stayed silent, waiting.
“When I asked her to be mine, she told me she’d already promised herself to someone else. Said she was fond of me, but she wanted more—a queen’s life, not the title of the Lesser Princess.”
He looked at her then, and there was nothing guarded in his gaze. “What I didn’t know was that she’d ensnared Kaelen, too—just as deliberately.”
She gasped. “Neither of you realized?”
Alarik shook his head. Yet, there was no bitterness she’d expected from someone betrayed.
For once, he seemed . . . content with his past, as though finally, he was able to leave it behind.
“She said she liked the secrecy—that it made things feel more real, more exciting. She asked me to keep our courtship quiet, said it was for our sake. I didn’t question it. ”
He exhaled, the words heavy. “No doubt she told Kaelen something just as convincing. And like fools, we both believed her.”
Anger flared sharp and hot in Reiya’s chest. “Did you confront her?”
“I did. I gave her a choice—tell Kaelen the truth, or I would. She thought I wouldn’t dare. That I loved her too much to ruin her dream.” He looked away, his voice dropping low. “She never understood that I loved my brother too . I couldn’t let him walk blindly into a life built on lies.”
Reiya’s fingers tightened in his tunic. “And when you told him . . . what happened?”
He exhaled slowly. “The day their betrothal was announced, I told him everything. Kaelen confronted her. Anna?s wept before the court, claimed I was jealous. That I wanted to sabotage his happiness.” He gave a soft, humourless laugh.
“And the court believed her, of course. Why wouldn’t they?
I was just the Tazahriv. The Lesser Prince. The bastard.”
Reiya’s chest tightened, fury flaring sharp and swift. “How could she?” she said, voice low. “To play you both like that—how could anyone be so cruel?”
The desert breeze tugged at her sleeves, but the chill didn’t touch the heat rising within. She too had trusted someone who spoke gently, promised loyalty, made her feel chosen—only to realize, too late, it had all been a mask. But even Castiel hadn’t split his affections between two people.
At least, not that she knew of.
He exhaled, fingers flexing against his knee.
“I couldn’t bear it. The looks, the whispers .
. . the way even those who knew the truth pretended they didn’t.
So I left. Wandered the desert until I found Vey’tar Oasis and the Féraveli festival.
I needed distance. I needed to become something more than the shadow she cast over me. ”
“And Kaelen followed you.”
Alarik nodded, jaw tightening. “He saw through her lies. Through all of it. He left her and came after me.” His eyes flickered. “At the oasis, we made a vow—to stand by each other, no matter what. To never let anyone come between us again.”
And thus, the pact was born.
She leaned into him, her cheek brushing his shoulder, attuned to the steady cadence of his breath beneath the fabric.
She turned slightly, their faces now barely apart in the firelight. “What she did . . . it didn’t break you. It made you both stronger. Especially together.”
Something in him loosened then. The hard line of his shoulders softened, and a faint, almost reluctant smile ghosted across his lips.
“Together,” he agreed, as if the word held more truth now than it ever had.
Warmth settled between them, quiet but undeniable.
She’d always seen him as unshakable—the one who bore burdens in silence, who met the world with unwavering control.
But tonight, she saw him . Not just his strength, but the man beneath it.
The one who’d made impossible choices, who’d sacrificed pride for loyalty, who’d been content in the background until love made him want more.
Her fingers curled lightly against his tunic, the fabric rough beneath her touch. Anna?s’s betrayal was more than a wound from his past—it had shaped both brothers, reforging their bond through fire.
How ironic, she thought, that if Anna?s had been honest, she might’ve truly won them both.