Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
REIYANA
T he warm glow of hammered brass lanterns bathed the dining hall in flickering gold.
Jewel-toned silks draped the space, and the air was thick with the mingling aromas of exotic dishes: slow-roasted pigeons stuffed with nuts and dates; saffron rice with orange zest; shaved fennel, mint, and blood orange salad.
Fountains gurgled from the adjoining garden, the sounds weaving through the easy conversation, a backdrop to the camaraderie around the table.
Reiya sat between Lady Neda and Thalina, the latter unable to stop fidgeting, practically thrumming with excitement.
“Thalina is not often allowed to stay up this late,” Lady Neda chuckled. “Let alone dine with the adults.”
Reiya smiled at the girl. “This is a special occasion, after all.”
Across from her, Kaelen and Alarik occupied seats closer to the king, who presided over the gathering with a presence that, to her surprise, felt less imposing than before.
Despite the sharp scrutiny of their first meeting, King Azarion carried a warmth that softened the formality of the evening.
His laughter was rich, filling the space with an ease that bridged the distance between them.
“I had an entire guard unit searching for Kaelen once,” the king shared, shaking his head as he reached for his goblet. “He was supposed to be in a council session yet was nowhere to be found.”
Reiya arched a brow. “And where were you instead?”
Kaelen smirked, looking entirely unrepentant. “With the horses.”
Lady Neda let out a soft sigh. “Of course you were.”
Alarik huffed a quiet laugh. “Not just at the palace stables, but at the far end of the city, testing a new breed of desert horses. We had ministers debating tax policy while he was galloping through the dunes.”
The king exhaled, though amusement lined his voice. “It’s a miracle you know anything about governance at all.”
“I simply prefer learning outside of a room full of stiff-backed ministers.”
His father arched a brow. “So that’s why I always had to smooth things over with the council afterward.”
She turned to Alarik. “And you never tried slipping away?”
He shook his head, his expression amused. “No need. He usually caused enough of a distraction for both of us.”
Kaelen shot him a grin. “That’s what brothers are for.”
Since it was a family dinner rather than a formal affair, Lady Neda sat at the king’s right hand. She matched his surprising warmth with a quiet grace that never made her seem withdrawn.
Reiya observed them together. It wasn’t unusual for a widowed Alpha to remain unwed after losing an Omega bride, especially if they’d been bonded.
Tradition might call it a noble choice—an act of eternal loyalty—but she suspected the court had pressed the king to remarry soon after the mourning period ended.
Still, for a royal Omega, the situation would’ve been vastly different. An Omega widow didn’t have the luxury of solitude; her rarity ensured society’s demands, her personal wishes secondary to duty.
Reiya studied the consort, searching for any trace of discontent at not being crowned queen.
As the king’s lady, trusted partner, and his daughter’s mother, one might expect a flicker of resentment, but she sensed none.
Lady Neda’s quiet contentment stood in stark contrast to the bitterness that had destroyed Alarik’s mother .
Perhaps it was her modest upbringing that allowed her the quiet contentment as a consort—but Reiya admired it all the same.
Instead of jealousy, she saw something far more compelling: the quiet intimacy binding them. It might not be the same as the bond between Alpha and Omega, but it was precious, nonetheless.
It existed in the unguarded moments between conversations, when the king served Lady Neda from the platters of food and urged her to eat more, taking care to offer her only the choicest cuts.
It was in her soft laughter as her hand briefly found his, an unconscious but telling gesture that spoke volumes.
This was more than duty or the subservience of a Beta consort to an Alpha king.
Lady Neda set her cup down. “Speaking of governance, we should begin planning the wedding soon. Once we receive word from your family, Reiya, we can determine the date.”
Reiya turned to her. “Is there a specific tradition to follow?”
“The ceremony itself is flexible, depending on what you wish to include. There will be a feast, of course, and a blessing at the temples of Solthar and Luneth. But beyond that, it should be a celebration that reflects you, Kaelen, and Alarik.”
Kaelen leaned forward. “That means you’ll have the final say, Sáel. If you want a quiet affair, we’ll keep it intimate. If you want a grand festival, we’ll give Mezerin a reason to celebrate for days.”
Reiya’s lips quirked. “What would you prefer?”
He feigned thoughtfulness. “A celebration of reckless extravagance. Endless feasting. Fireworks in the desert sky.”
Alarik shot him a dry look. “You despise fireworks.”
“They startle the horses.” He winked before his expression grew solemn.
“It’s a moment worth celebrating, but we can’t ignore the hardship in the north.
Some of our villages have suffered under a prolonged drought.
” His gaze softened as it met Reiya’s. “A measured approach would be more suitable, if it meets your approval.”
The king shot Kaelen an amused glance. “So, you do know some matters of governance.”
He smirked over his goblet. “I like to keep an element of surprise.”
Reiya considered their words. “Then we should be mindful of the situation. A grand banquet is lovely, but I’d rather the celebration reflect what truly matters.” She glanced between them, her voice warm. “The feast is only the final flourish, anyway.”
She caught the approving glances the king exchanged with Kaelen and Alarik, the sudden fullness in her chest making her lower her gaze.
“We’ll plan with discretion, then,” Lady Neda said. “Aethonia has its own customs, and we should respect that.” She turned to Reiya with a gentle smile. “I would be honoured to help, if you’d allow it.”
Warmth unfurled in Reiya’s chest. It wasn’t just duty in Lady Neda’s voice—it was sincerity. A genuine desire to make this day hers, not just the kingdom’s.
“I’d like that,” she admitted softly.
King Azarion turned toward Reiya. “I took the liberty of sending a Sparo last night to inform your family of your safe arrival. We’ll hear back soon.
Still, we should send a formal invitation.
A union like this is more than a bond between hearts—it is an alliance between kingdoms. Their presence would honour that. ”
Alarik leaned forward. “Your family would want to share this day with you, Ketra. We’ll wait for them.”
Reiya’s throat thickened at their thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s a long journey, but having them here would mean everything.”
The lingering sweetness of honeyed dates and orange blossom pastries clung to the air, mingling with the crisp scent of mint tea.
The warmth of the feast had settled over them, conversation ebbing into something quieter—a content lull, the kind that followed satisfaction but hinted at something yet to come.
Reiya saw Kaelen’s gaze flick toward Alarik, a silent signal passing between them. Then, he set his cup down.
“A walk might do us good after all this feasting,” he said lightly. “Will you join us, Sáel? There’s somewhere we want to show you.”
Reiya arched a brow. “Should I be concerned?”
Alarik offered his arm. “Not at all. Trust us.”
She chuckled. Farewells and goodnights were exchanged before she placed her hands in theirs, allowing them to lead her into the cool embrace of the night .
Outside, the air was laced with the heady sweetness of jasmine and the soft rustle of desert roses. The world had been stripped to its essentials: the vast sky above, the steady rhythm of their steps, and the quiet hum of anticipation.
“How peaceful it is here,” Reiya murmured, brushing a velvety petal. “So different from the urgency of the road.”
Kaelen smirked. “Are you already missing the chaos? I thought you liked adventure.”
“There’s a thrill in unexpected turns, but there’s also solace in knowing where you stand. In being surrounded by those you trust.” She hesitated, voice softer. “By those you love .”
Their gazes sharpened. Kaelen’s mischief dimmed into something deeper, while Alarik reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers—a quiet promise.
“Reiya,” Alarik murmured. “There’s a place—no, two places—we want to share with you.”
Her curiosity flickered. “Where first?”
Kaelen leaned in, grin returning. “You’ll see.”
They led her along a winding path away from the palace, the gardens fading into the hush of the desert. Ahead, a grand rectangular structure loomed under the moonlight, its stone walls bathed in a silvery glow. The soft nickering of horses from within confirmed her suspicion.
The royal stables.
Stepping inside, warmth enveloped them—thicker, richer, filled with the mingling scents of hay, oiled leather, and the deep, musky breath of horses.
Lantern light flickered against the polished wood, illuminating rows of magnificent Asadian warhorses.
Tall and broad-chested, their sleek coats gleamed obsidian and chestnut, muscles rippling beneath glossy hides.
These were not mere steeds; they were bred for endurance, for the unrelenting extremes of the Numeria Desert—like Shahram and Ruhasul.
Her fingers brushed over the muzzle of a midnight stallion. Warmth ghosted her palm before he pressed closer, nuzzling her in quiet curiosity .
“They’re magnificent,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen such powerful creatures.”
Kaelen said, “We breed the finest warhorses in the nine kingdoms. But there’s one I think you’ll find even more special.”
He led her toward the far end of the stable, past the mighty stallions, to a stall set apart from the rest.