Chapter 51 #2
She paused, thoughtful. “He and Alarik go back many years. His family hails from the same village as Alarik’s mother; they were raised together, in a manner of speaking. He is a man they both hold in trust. Having him at your side will ease their minds.”
Reiya dipped her head. “Then I welcome the captain’s company.”
T he promenade along Nafara Oasis shimmered beneath the midday sun, golden light reflecting off the tranquil waters.
The heat was relentless, but towering date palms cast long, cool shadows.
The air was fragrant—precious oils and moonflowers drifting from the nearby Temple of Luneth, where the faithful gathered in quiet devotion.
Reiya walked in measured steps, acutely aware of the woman at her side. Anna?s moved with unerring grace, one hand twirling a white lace parasol, the other resting lightly against Reiya’s arm—a touch so faint it could be mistaken for guidance. Or control.
Behind them, Captain Marzius and a handful of guards followed at a respectful distance.
“You must find Asadia quite different from Aethonia,” Anna?s mused, her voice smooth, unhurried. “The sands, the heat, the scent of spice . . . Do they suit you? ”
Reiya scanned the sandstone walls of the temple, the vendors lining the path, offering woven charms, moonflower bouquets, vials of fragrant oil.
“There is an unrelenting vitality to Asadia,” she answered, carefully neutral. “It’s admirable.”
Anna?s’s smile never wavered. “You’ve had quite the journey, haven’t you? From Aethonia’s shores to caravan roads—living among commoners, travelling with merchants. That must have been . . . quite a departure from palace life.”
“It was. Stripped of comforts, you see strength more clearly—within yourself, and within others. There’s honesty in working for something greater than yourself, even if it’s something as simple as cooking a meal.”
“How noble.” Anna?s tilted her head. “But I’m sure you were well cared for. The princes, after all, were by your side. They are both extremely . . . attentive . I know this firsthand.”
Heat curled low in Reiya’s chest—not anger, but something watchful, a nagging intuition that this was a test, a calculated provocation.
“They were precious companions,” she replied evenly. “Steady when the world was anything but. Through difficulty, we’ve earned each others’ loyalty and affection.”
The woman’s lips curved, but the precision of the gesture gave her true intention away.
“How fortunate you are, Princess, to have ensnared their devotion. The court can see it plain as day.”
Reiya didn’t let the words settle. Instead, she inclined her head, returning the smile with an edge of her own. “Devotion isn’t given freely, Lady Anna?s. It requires trust. I’m sure you agree, trust isn’t so easily won.”
A spontaneous emotion crossed Anna?s’s expression before she smoothed it away. “I couldn’t agree more.”
They walked on in silence.
Then, Anna?s spoke again. “I’m sure you’ve heard the whispers of my . . . history with the princes.” Her tone was soft, uncertain—crafted for effect. “I won’t insult you by sidestepping it. The court loves its stories. They’ve told this one often enough. ”
She let the words linger, cocking her head just so—her expression perfectly open. “But you mustn’t be jealous, Princess. What happened is in the past. Everyone can see how devoted the princes are to you now. There’s no reason to worry.”
Reiya nearly laughed.
Jealous?
So deliberate a word—tossed like a stone into still water just to watch the ripples.
Reiya slipped her arm through Anna?s’s, letting out a deliberately airy sigh.“How relieved I am to hear you say so. I confess, I nearly asked myself, but I feared it might be too bold. I was feeling jealous before, but you’ve set my mind at ease.”
The flicker in Anna?s’s dark eyes was slight, but Reiya caught it—a brief blink of surprise, quickly buried beneath practiced poise.
“Of course,” she replied smoothly, though her voice had cooled. “It’s natural to wonder—any woman in your position would. But it pleases me to see you so confident and gracious. Both qualities will serve you well.”
“Thank you,” Reiya returned, letting relief thread through her words. “Confidence often sharpens when tested. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Anna?s’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered. “Yes,” she murmured. “Testing one’s mettle reveals who we truly are.”
“Then the court has done us both a favour,” she said evenly, turning with a calm smile. “We’ll learn so much about each other in the days to come.”
The tension thickened. Anna?s’s mask didn’t crack again, but Reiya noted the faint edge in her expression.
She nodded. “I look forward to it.”
As they neared the temple entrance, a hush fell, the scent of incense and moonflowers growing pungent. Captain Marzius handed over two moonflower bouquets he’d sent his man to purchase.
“We’ll wait here, Princess,” he told her. “Take as much time as you need.”
Reiya nodded in gratitude. As tradition dictated, Alphas and other men weren’t permitted inside Luneth’s temple unless accompanying their Omegas, during festivals, or for rare ceremonies.
She and Anna?s stepped inside and toward the altar, where fragrant smoke curled from bronze censers. The flickering flames reflected in the polished limestone floor, shifting beneath their feet.
Reiya lit her offering. Her companion did the same. They stood side by side, watching the fire burn.
“I simply wonder . . .” Anna?s murmured. “What does a princess like you, who has everything, pray for?”
She studied the woman carefully. There were many answers she could give, but Anna?s didn’t care for words—only what she could extract from them.
“I suppose I pray for what we all do,” Reiya said at last. “To be free to choose my own path.”
Anna?s’s eyes never left the flame, but her brow arched. “Assuming one has the choice, of course.”
Reiya’s heart skipped a beat. Those words were so similar to what she’d once told herself when she felt trapped by expectation.
Anna?s tipped her chin toward the towering statue of Luneth behind the altar. “Do you think she listens?”
Reiya turned her head slightly. “Luneth?”
The woman gave a light shrug. “Luneth, the gods. Do you think they hear us? Care about us?” A pause, then softer—almost bitter: “Do you think she spares a thought for the Omegas who suffer for things they cannot control?”
Blasphemous words.
And yet, Reiya had asked herself those same questions on countless nights after her Awakening—quiet, aching nights when she’d cried herself to sleep.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe we don’t pray because we expect answers, but because we need to believe someone is listening. That we aren’t as alone as we think we are.”
Anna?s turned, holding her gaze for a long, quiet moment. And when she finally smiled, it was different—softer, unguarded.
It felt . . . real.
“You sound like my mother,” she murmured .
Reiya blinked. “Your mother?”
She nodded, exhaling slowly. “She used to say something similar. That even if the gods were silent, we should speak to them anyway. That sometimes, it’s not about being heard, but about saying the words.”
Reiya hesitated. “Was she a Beta, like your father?”
“No. She was an Omega.”
An Omega, married to a Beta? Had it been a love match, or had Hassamir simply been powerful enough to claim her despite his caste?
“What was she like?”
Anna?s’s gaze flickered toward the statue of Luneth. “She believed in dreams,” she said at last. “She used to burn frankincense every night because she heard it warded off bad dreams.” A long pause, and a chill entered her voice. “But dreams die. They don’t last forever.”
Something in the words struck a strange chord in Reiya, a pang she couldn’t quite name; something small and innocent and painful glimmering beneath the surface.
For the first time, Anna?s felt like a person—not just a rival playing her father’s games.
“You must miss her very much,” Reiya said gently.
Chill slid into place behind the woman’s eyes, locking away whatever had glimmered there for just a moment.
“She lived a fool, and she died a fool,” Anna?s murmured, her voice edged with quiet disdain. “I’ve not missed her for a moment.”
Silence stretched between them. Reiya wasn’t sure how to respond, uncertain whether any words could meet the sudden vehemence in the woman’s voice.
Then, Anna?s blinked, her composure smoothing over like silk.
She laughed softly. “Forgive me, Princess. Nostalgia can be terribly unbecoming.”
Reiya didn’t smile. For all her wariness, for all her readiness to parry every barb Anna?s threw, this gave her pause.
How much of Anna?s’s perfection had been forced upon her?
How much of her polish was a mask she couldn’t afford to remove?