Chapter 6
Chapter Six
REIYANA
R eiya’s chest tightened as Castiel approached. He was a polished reminder of everything she was meant to want. Her fingers flexed against Prince Kaelendrin’s, the warmth of their dance still clinging like an ember refusing to die.
She shouldn’t have felt that spark—the thrill of Kaelendrin’s charm, the quiet steadiness in Alarik’s gaze. Her heart, her future, belonged to Castiel. She’d clung to that truth for years. How could two dances and a handful of words make her forget?
Guilt twisted inside her. She wasn’t supposed to smile like that, to laugh, to feel anything beyond duty. Yet Kaelendrin’s teasing had breached her walls, and Alarik’s words had struck deep.
Still, pride for Castiel swelled within her. Even before Alpha royalty, his quiet confidence held firm. In a world where dominance ruled, it was bold for a Beta to step forward.
She expected Kaelendrin to scoff at the intrusion, but instead, he spoke first. “Lord Castiel Vaelmont, isn’t it?”
Her chest squeezed. That the prince knew Castiel only tangled this moment further.
Castiel bowed, a polite smile on his lips. “I’m honoured Prince Kaelendrin remembers, considering our paths crossed only briefly in Aquris last year.”
Kaelendrin’s response was smooth, the ease of a man well-versed in courtly games. “Your insights into the Aqurian trade coalition left a strong impression of the advantages they would gain by affiliating with Issoirea. Sharp diplomacy—as expected from an Aethonian lord.”
Castiel’s lips stretched just a touch. “Prince Kaelendrin is too generous. I wouldn’t have expected such praise from someone . . . of your rank.”
The prince’s smile didn’t waver. “Rank alone doesn’t define value, as my father’s advisors will assure you.”
Castiel inclined his head. “Perhaps, but knowing one’s place tempers ambition with reason. It’s served me well in diplomacy.”
To the untrained ear, his words were civil, but Reiya caught the edge beneath them. A glance passed between the men, silent but weighted. The music and laughter faded beneath the tension coiling between them.
Kaelendrin remained poised, unruffled.
Castiel, cool but taut, held his gaze.
Then, he turned to her with a calm smile, hand outstretched. “Prince, may I claim the princess’s next dance?”
The Alpha’s gaze lingered a beat too long, the stretch of silence drawing glances from nearby guests. Reiya’s heart skipped. Beside her, Castiel’s hand hovered, waiting.
The shift in the prince’s stance was barely noticeable, but she felt it. The lighthearted Alpha was gone. In his place stood someone sharper, restrained but dangerous—a blade half-drawn from its sheath. His golden eyes, once warm, now cooled, like honey turned to stone.
But even a crown prince couldn’t defy decorum, no matter how much he wanted to.
“If the princess wishes it,” the Tazahrin said at last, his voice taut as he released her hand.
The loss of warmth was immediate. Reiya resisted the urge to look at him as she curtsied and muttered, “Thank you, Prince Kaelendrin.”
Castiel led her away, a refuge of familiar comfort. But as the music swelled, her gaze betrayed her—drifting, again and again, to the Asadian princes. They’d retreated to the fringes of the ballroom, yet their eyes followed her, a pair of shadows refusing to fade.
She forced herself to focus on Castiel, on the steady chestnut eyes she’d known for years. He’d always been constant—a place to rest. Yet the warmth lingering on her skin wasn’t his.
Still, she clung to the familiar, to the man who held her hand and her heart.
He looked unbearably handsome in his fitted navy coat, silver embroidery lining the cuffs, the polished Caerelle insignia gleaming against his chest. Dark knee-high boots completed the elegance of his attire—refined, never gaudy.
Unlike an Alpha, he had no need for grand gestures, no urge to command attention.
With him, there was no battle for control, no struggle to prove herself—only quiet, unwavering support.
“I looked for you earlier.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “I couldn’t find you. Were you called away?”
The music swelled as Castiel pulled her closer, his touch light—reverent even—guiding her with ease through each sweeping step. His gaze traced the curve of her face, as if committing every detail to memory.
Like he was holding onto something already slipping away.
Her hand tightened around his. “Castiel?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I wasn’t far, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch the tournament.”
A knife twisted deep inside her, caught between him and the inevitability of her future. This dance felt like the final steps of a waltz destined to end in loss.
Whether it was Castiel, her family, or the spark she held within herself, something would slip away by morning.
Their silence swelled with unspoken words. When she glanced up, he was already watching—like a man who knew he shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help yearning.
He bent closer, his cheek brushing hers as they swayed, the music folding around them. For a moment, they were the only two in the room, his breath warm against her temple.
“I told myself I could endure it,” he murmured. “We knew this day would come. But watching you with them . . . Every smile, every glance . . .”
His voice faltered, as though the truth had slipped through a crack he hadn’t meant to reveal.
“Do you know what it feels like?” His words barely rose above the music, but they cut through her all the same. “It’s like drowning, knowing the only thing keeping me from winning you is that I wasn’t born an Alpha.”
The ache in his voice tightened around her ribs. She leaned in, her cheek pressed against his. She should’ve pulled away, should’ve remembered where they were, but Castiel had a gravity of his own—one she had no strength to resist.
“You’ve already won me,” she whispered. Her vision blurred, but she forced back the tears.
“With your kindness. The way you see me—not as the Omega the court wants, but as I am.” She swallowed hard.
“No matter who I choose tomorrow, I’ll keep you with me in my heart. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Castiel pulled slightly away. His smile was fleeting, a ghost of what might’ve been. “No, dove, it doesn’t. Not in the ways that matter.”
He bent again, lips grazing her ear, his voice barely more than a murmur. “In the end, they always get what they want.”
Her pulse stuttered. She looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
For a moment, he hesitated, then exhaled, soft and resigned. “The Asadian princes have a pact to share one Omega. If you marry Kaelendrin, you’ll have to accept Alarik too.”
The words landed hard—like a sudden shift in the wind, stealing her breath. She stumbled, but Castiel’s grip never faltered, his hand pressing gently at the small of her back in silent reassurance.
“They didn’t tell you, did they?” His voice was quiet, but the weight of it crushed her. “They won’t—not until it’s too late. That’s what you are to them, Reiya.”
He leaned in, so close his lips brushed her ear. “A prize to be split between two Alphas.”
Her mind reeled. The easy familiarity between the brothers. Leif’s teasing words. Thorir’s evasion when she’d pressed him for answers. Each clue slid into place, a puzzle she hadn’t known she was solving .
He twirled her once more, his expression unreadable, but the anguish in his voice cut through.
“I can’t stay and watch it happen.” His hand pressed lightly against her back, a touch as fleeting as a farewell. “I know this is hard for you, dove, but I’ll make it easier for you—the only way I know how.”
She stuttered and pulled away, searching his face. “What are you saying?”
His hold firmed, keeping her moving, refusing to let the moment fracture. “I’m leaving Aethonia tonight. A ship’s waiting. It’s time I find something new, away from all this.”
The world wavered. Music and laughter blurred. She clutched at his arm, dug her fingertips into his sinew as if she could anchor him here.
“No!” she gasped. “Castiel, don’t?—”
His arms tightened around her, pulling her in, his embrace desperate, unthinking. His lips brushed her ear, low and raw. “I must, dove.”
The ballroom faded—the candlelight, the voices, the press of silk and gold. There was only Castiel. The heat of him. The familiar scent of bergamot. The weight of his longing. The plea in his touch.
“I can’t stand here and watch them claim what I never could, only to be left behind with nothing but your memory in every corner.” He swallowed. “I can’t do it. I won’t .”
Before she could stop him, he was gone, slipping through the crowd with the same quiet grace that had carried him through their dance. The space he left behind yawned wide, heavy, threatening to swallow her whole.
Her chests heaved, rising and falling. Her corset pinched, ribs straining against the seams. Silk skirts brushed past in a blur, laughter distant, all of it muffled beneath her quickening pulse.
Castiel’s absence curled over her like a hand she couldn’t shrug off.
The ballroom stretched too far, and she stood at its centre, untethered.
Then, Thorir was there. Without a word, his hand slid into hers, warm and familiar. He guided her back into the rhythm of the dance, coaxing her steps as if nothing had changed.
Of course , Reiya thought bitterly as the music swelled, conversations pressing in from all sides. How could she stand frozen at her own celebration, ruining the flawless image they expected ?
She looked up at Thorir—at how his chiseled jaw remained set, short blond hair neatly combed, blue eyes cool and unreadable. That calm, that neutrality—it twisted her stomach. It felt like a betrayal in its own way.
Something sharp stirred inside her, anger curling at the edges of her thoughts.
“You knew about the Asadian princes’ pact, didn’t you?”
Thorir’s jaw ticked. He glanced around, clearly wishing she’d chosen a more private moment. “I did.”