Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
REIYANA
T hey’d left the desert picnic after sunset.
By the time they reached Turasid, the sky had deepened into indigo, stars scattered bright and heavy above.
Their footsteps soft against the cool stone as she and Alarik made their way through the family wing.
The palace corridors were quiet at this hour, the symphony of garden crickets punctuating the tranquility.
Kaelen had been summoned to a late council session—some diplomatic matter requiring his presence.
Reiya hadn’t asked for details. The moment she opened her mouth, she knew her golden Alpha would’ve stayed.
She could tell by the way he’d kissed her knuckles before leaving—gentle, lingering—that he already wished he could.
Beside her, Alarik walked in thoughtful silence, hands clasped behind his back. The golden trim of his sleeves shimmered faintly with each measured step.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said at last. “Tired after the race?”
She offered him a small smile. She should’ve felt triumphant. Satisfied, even. But her thoughts kept circling back to the unease still tugging at her chest.
“The race,” she admitted, though it wasn’t the whole truth. Her arms wrapped around herself, the restless energy crackling beneath her skin making it hard to stay still. “And… other things.”
“Other things?”
“I can’t stop thinking about the picnic, and . . . Lady Neda,” she confessed. “She looked . . . I don’t know. Dejected. Sad, maybe?”
“She hides it well,” Alarik admitted, his tone taking a thoughtful turn. “But yes, I saw it too. The king’s attention was . . . diverted today, and she sensed it.”
“Anna?s ensured your father’s eyes were on her today.”
“My father is a cautious man, but he’s not immune to flattery, and Anna?s knows how to use her feminine charms. Neda is perceptive enough to see what’s happening.” Alarik pursed his lips into a grim line. “The fact Anna?s is an Omega doesn’t help Neda’s cause.”
Reiya shook her head. “It doesn’t seem fair. Lady Neda has been by his side for years, hasn’t she? Loyal, patient. She’d given him a daughter . . . and now he’s . . .”
“Drawn to something new,” Alarik finished. “Men in power often reach for what’s shiny and fleeting, forgetting the strength of what they already have.”
Reiya’s stomach twisted. “Do you think he means to marry Anna?s?”
Alarik exhaled, his expression unreadable. “I don’t relish the thought, but the council will support it.”
She swallowed hard. “No kingdom would turn down the chance for more Sunborn or Moonfire heirs.”
Alarik’s gaze sharpened. “For the Mezerins to take control of the succession, they’d need more than that. They’d need more than an Alpha heir—he must also be a Sunborn. You know how rare that is.”
He hesitated, his voice lowering. “Kaelen is already one. By the time any new heir is born, he’ll be too entrenched in governance to be easily replaced. Hassamir and Anna?s would have a long road ahead of them if they intend to shift the line of succession.”
Reiya bit her lip, her mind whirling. Difficult, yes . . . but not impossible.
“Binding the Mezerins to the throne is a tidy solution to prevent strife,” Alarik continued. “Two powerful houses, finally tied together after generations apart. If nothing else, it’ll keep them cooperative.”
She stopped in front of an arched window, hands curling into fists. The thought of Lady Neda—loyal, constant—being blatantly pushed aside for the High Lady of Mezerin lodged like a thorn in her chest.
Alarik came to a stop beside her, silent but attuned, his presence steady even as her thoughts raced.
“At what cost?” Her voice rose. “Lady Neda doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.”
“She doesn’t,” Alarik agreed calmly. “But there’s not much room in politics for kindness, Reiya.”
The injustice of it quickened her pulse, and the rising heat beneath her skin—restless and aching—was impossible to ignore. It prickled along her spine, coiling low in her belly, making it hard to breathe, even harder to stand still.
“It doesn’t make it right.”
His lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, it doesn’t. Unfortunately, politics is often not about what’s right, but about what works.”
Reiya held his gaze, her chest tight. “I hate these games.”
Alarik stepped closer, his touch featherlight as his fingertip traced along her jaw. His golden eyes softened, lips curving faintly. “That’s why Kaelen and I love you . You’re not like them.”
Reiya let out a soft exhale, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe not, but I have to play them too, just enough to win.”
Alarik’s thumb brushed against her lip, his gaze lingering on her flushed cheeks. “And you will,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, the words carrying a quiet certainty that made her chest tighten.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “With you and Kaelen, I feel like I already have.”
He bent to capture her lips in a tender kiss. When they parted, he tilted his head, studying her with a softness that couldn’t quite mask his astuteness. “If I ask you to seek your bed, will you be able to sleep, when you’re this restless?”
Reiya hesitated, her pulse quickening under his scrutiny. The word fit too well, wrapping around the buzzing tension beneath her skin. Restless . Yes, that was it, but there was also more—a nagging feeing of heat and want , an echo of the torment she’d felt during her Kindling.
Her gaze faltered, drifting to the small expanse of skin visible over his collar, where his pulse beat steady and strong, a maddening contrast to the erratic thrum of her own.
“Come here,” he said softly, pulling her back into his embrace.
Reiya didn’t hesitate and leaned in. His firm embrace steadied her in a way nothing else had. Her cheek pressed against the warm breadth of his shoulder, and she released the air trapped in her lungs. The tension in her body ebbed slightly, replaced by the quiet comfort of his closeness.
They stood there, the silence between them broken only by the sound of their breathing. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.
“Your Heat is getting closer. That contributes to the heightened feelings.”
Reiya rubbed her cheek lightly against his neck, seeking more contact, her voice soft. “I’ve stopped taking the suppressant.”
“Soon, proximity may no longer be enough. It’s natural. There’s nothing to fear.”
“I don’t fear it,” she said, her fingers rubbing across his chest. “Though sometimes it feels like it creeps up at the strangest times.”
Alarik’s lips twitched into a faint, knowing smile. “Then let me help you.” His hands slid slowly down her arms. “Care to burn off some of that excess energy?”
A flush bloomed low in her belly at the suggestion. Her voice was quieter when she asked, “What precisely did you have in mind?”
“Why don’t we train? Burn off some of that energy.”
Reiya leaned back, brow arching as her lips curved, this time with faint amusement. “Train?”
“Hand-to-hand combat,” he clarified. “You said you wanted to learn, back in Zohara. It’ll focus your mind.”
She huffed a chuckle. “Do you ever rest?”
“Rest is for those with nothing left to improve.”
“And here I thought perfection didn’t need improvement .
That drew a low bark of laughter from him. The sound eased something in her chest, her pulse settling, just slightly.
“You’ll regret offering,” she murmured.
His golden eyes glinted—amusement mingling with unmistakable challenge. “We’ll see. Come. Show me what you’ve got.”
M oonlight streamed through the tall windows of the training chamber, streaks of silver spilling across the cool stone floor. Dust motes swirled in the still air, but Reiya barely noticed them. Her focus was on Alarik as they stood across each other, the space between them charged and heavy.
Her sleeves were rolled to the elbows, sweat clinging to her skin after their last bout.
They’d begun with basic stances, but now moved in and out of mock sparring, footwork and feints sharpening with each exchange.
Her fitted tunic and breeches offered freedom to move—but Alarik’s presence made every breath feel tight.
He wore only a pair of loose black pants, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat, muscles shifting with effortless control. His quiet intensity, the way his gaze followed her every move, made her skin feel overheated, too aware.
“This isn’t archery,” he said. “This is hand-to-hand combat. You won’t win by being reactive. You have to predict me. Outmaneuver me.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m learning.”
“Good, but learn faster.”
He moved. She barely registered his step before his hand aimed for her shoulder. She twisted instinctively, ducking just enough to avoid his grip, her heart jolting as his fingers brushed the fabric of her tunic. He pivoted with her, circling, forcing her to adjust her stance.
“You hesitate,” he murmured, his voice edged with challenge. “You think too much.”
Reiya planted her feet, steadying herself, ignoring the sharp tug of frustration. She was thinking, but not about Alarik’s footwork or the fight .
Not entirely.
The problem was him —his presence, his nearness.
Every step he took, every shift of his weight, every ripple of muscle, seemed to crowd her senses, until it felt as though the room itself had shrunk.
She was achingly aware of the way he moved, fluid and deliberate, as if he were untangling her resolve one careful thread at a time.
There was also his scent—faint, but unmistakable. Heat and dark spice, it coiled through her thoughts with insidious precision, slipping past her defences. She gritted her teeth against it, but it was already sinking in, leaving her off-balance.
Focus, Reiya.