Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
REIYANA
T heir procession moved in steady rhythm, but Reiya’s gaze kept drifting over her shoulder, scanning the endless dunes. Shadows flickered at the edges of her mind, half-expecting another band of attackers to crest the horizon.
But the desert remained still. The world—for once—seemed content to leave them in peace.
“Still no sign of him,” Kaelen muttered, more to himself than anyone. “If Castiel is following, he’s being careful about it.”
Reiya’s fingers flexed against the leather reins. “Did you ask Solmaz about him? You said she knows more than she lets on. With all her connections, her influence—has she ever crossed paths with him?”
Kaelen shook his head. “Solmaz is a former Moonflower at Luminara Isles. But despite her reach, she never had dealings with him—or any reason to suspect him.” His eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous.”
She frowned, looking between the brothers. “A Moonflower,” she echoed. “You’ve mentioned that before—Moonflowers, Luminara Isles. What are they?”
Alarik, riding ahead, glanced back at her with a flicker of amusement. “You really want to hear this from me? ”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he replied, smirk widening, “I can’t do the tale justice. This one,” he jerked his chin toward Kaelen, “has firsthand experience.”
Kaelen groaned. “You’ll never let me live this down, will you?”
“Without question,” Alarik replied, dryly amused. “Moments like this are too rare to squander.”
Kaelen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before relenting.
“The Luminara Isles are a sanctuary. A place where highborn Omegas can go during their Heat to be safe and in control of their choices. If they wish, they can spend that time with trustworthy Alphas in an environment built on care, respect, and above all, consent.”
Reiya’s brows lifted. “That kind of place exists?”
“It does. Not just for Omegas. Alphas go there too—in anticipation of their Rut or . . . for other reasons.” His lips quirked, but she noted how his cheekbones were flushed. “It’s where young Alpha royals are sent to . . . study.”
“Study?” She echoed.
When Alarik snickered, Kaelen shot his brother a sharp, quelling look.
“ Train , then,” he corrected, “in how to properly court and please their future Omega mates.”
Alarik chortled, the sound loud enough to turn a few soldiers’ heads, as if surprised that he could laugh after all. Reiya caught Captain Marzius’ lips twitch into a small smile.
“He spent an entire season there,” Alarik supplied. “Graduated with honours, I hear.”
Kaelen huffed, but the crimson tint on his cheeks betrayed him. “The Isles teach that the bond between Alphas and Omegas isn’t about dominance—it’s a partnership. Earning an Omega’s trust is the real lesson.”
Reiya tilted her head, recalling how Alarik had hinted at Kaelen’s familiarity with the Isles. “And your father sent you?”
“He did, the moment I turned eighteen. He believed an Alpha prince should understand his role—to foster a lasting, fruitful marriage with his future Omega.”
She tried to imagine it—the stern-faced King Azarion, concerned about ensuring his young son would foster a healthy relationship with his Omega bride.
Meaning . . . her .
Her fingers tightened around the reins. He’d been trained for this, in anticipation of her. Months of lessons, of precision. To court. To protect. To please .
She’d already experienced the way he pleasured her, how effortlessly he’d read her responses, anticipated her needs. Every touch, every caress was devoted, intentional.
The thought sent a slow, heated awareness curling through her.
She risked a glance at him—only to find his golden eyes already on her, steady, faintly amused.
“Something on your mind, Princess?” His voice was casual, but the glint in his gaze was anything but.
Reiya cleared her throat, lifting her chin. “I was just thinking,” she mused, “that you must’ve worked very hard to— ahem —master your lessons.”
His mouth quirked. “I take my duties to my Tazahrina very seriously.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I suppose . . . Asadian traditions must be thorough in that regard.”
His smile widened. “Thorough is one word for it.”
She pressed on despite the warmth creeping up her neck. “So you deem the lessons worthwhile?”
Kaelen leaned in, voice dropping low. “You’d be the better judge of that, Sáel.”
Alarik glanced over his shoulder, his lips twitching. “Tread lightly, brother. She’ll get notions, and we’ve leagues yet to cover.”
Reiya rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin as she nudged Ember forward and lightly swatted Alarik on the back. “You’re both insufferable.”
Their laughter mingled in the air—a rare moment of levity. But as it faded, Reiya’s thoughts turned quieter.
“It’s strange to think there are places where Omegas aren’t simply at an Alpha’s mercy during their Heat. Where they have real choices. I never knew that was possible.”
Kaelen’s voice gentled. “Reiya, you were raised to believe an Omega princess holds no power—a mere bargaining chip between kingdoms.” He met her gaze. “But highborn Omegas are rarer than Alpha royals. That rarity gives you more power than you realize.”
His words echoed Solmaz’s. A striking reminder of how blind she’d been—how blind so many in the nine kingdoms were—to the kind of strength an Omega could wield.
Power. It was a word she was still adjusting to, but she no longer doubted its truth.
Yet as she glanced at Alarik, a different thought took root.
Kaelen was sent to the Isles, but not Alarik. The kingdom had shaped one to dazzle and left the other to sharpen his edges in solitude.
But if their early-morning frolic inside the tent had proven anything, he was by no means lesser . . . nor unskilled.
Taking a steady breath, she asked, “And Solmaz? What was her role there?”
“Solmaz was a Moonflower—one of the Omegas who earned the title of leader and mentor. She wasn’t highborn, but her wisdom and influence made her indispensable. The Isles wouldn’t be what they are without her.”
“And she mentored you?” Reiya asked innocently.
Kaelen nearly choked. “No, absolutely not.”
Alarik smirked. “Careful, brother. That sounds suspiciously defensive.”
Kaelen shot him a glare. “I trained under one of her sworn sisters,” he muttered before turning to her. “I swear on Solthar’s name.”
She grinned at his discomfort but let her mind linger on the implications.
Solmaz had access to knowledge few could piece together. If highborn Omegas were vanishing, she would’ve noticed.
And if Castiel was involved, he wasn’t just an opportunist.
He was playing a much bigger game .
“Look ahead, Reiya,” Alarik called. He pointed to a shimmer in the distance, where the sands seemed to ripple. “That’s Mezerin.”
Rising from the desert like a mirage, the city’s golden walls gleamed in the sun, their hue blending so seamlessly with the sands, they seemed to shift and waver with the heat.
She whispered the name, savouring it like something sacred. “Asadia.”
The moment felt surreal, too vast to fully grasp. Mere weeks ago, reaching Asadia had been as distant as the stars. Yet here she was, the kingdom growing closer with every beat of Ember’s hooves.
As they neared, Mezerin’s sandstone walls rose in full splendour, adorned with painted tiles in deep azure, emerald, and gold. Above, banners bearing the sigil of House Asad—a coiled serpent encircled by a sunburst—snapped in the wind.
The great gates, carved with desert motifs, groaned open, their movement smooth despite their immense size. A contingent of bronze-armoured soldiers stepped forward, bowing in unison as they passed. The horses slowed instinctively, their hooves muffled against the polished stone roads.
Cheers erupted from the gathering crowd, voices bright with welcome. Reiya watched as Kaelen and Alarik lifted their hands in greeting, their ease and familiarity with their people unmistakable. Something stirred in her chest—a quiet pride in the way they belonged here.
As she turned forward, the city unfurled before her, grander than she’d ever imagined.
Sunlit terracotta buildings lined the streets, their balconies overflowing with cascading vines in full bloom.
The air was thick with the scent of woodfire and fresh bread, warm spices, and the faint sweetness of orange blossoms.
At the heart of the city, an oasis stretched wide, larger than Vey’tar, its waters a glimmering sapphire framed by lush greenery.
Towering date palms swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds casting dappled shade over vibrant market stalls and bustling thoroughfares.
Beyond it all, Turasid Palace loomed, its domed silhouette reigning over the city.
Alarik gestured toward the water’s edge. “That’s Nafara Oasis—the largest in the Numeria, the heart of Mezerin. Its name comes from two Asadian words: nafarī and farasha —breath and blossom.”
Reiya exhaled, eyes lingering on the oasis. “No description could do it justice.”
Kaelen guided Shahram alongside Ruhasul and Ember. “The gods’ gift, they call it. A symbol of life and prosperity. The canals from Nafara reach every corner of Mezerin and beyond—it sustains everything.”
Her gaze swept over the bustling streets. Despite the unforgiving desert, Mezerin thrived with abundance. Children darted along the sunlit roads, vendors called from vibrant market stalls, and the faint melody of a lute wove through the warm air.
Curious faces peered from doorways, little ones laughing as they chased after the horses. Slowly, more townspeople emerged, drawn by the sight of the returning princes—and the foreign princess who rode between them.
A knot tightened in Reiya’s throat as the weight of unfamiliar eyes settled on her. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, tasting the lingering dryness.
What did they see?