Chapter 7 #2
His smile softened. “True enough. But the question remains—do you want your ships to stay tethered, or would you rather feel the wind in their sails?”
The words struck a chord she wasn’t ready to confront. Her chest tightened. She turned to Alarik, hoping for reprieve, but his dark eyes held the same unwavering focus, silent yet echoing his brother’s challenge.
She shook her head. “Not every journey requires unmooring. Sometimes, it’s safer to stay where the waters are calm.”
Kaelendrin tilted his head slightly, his smile fading into something almost contemplative. “Is safety what you want, Princess? That’s not what I sensed in you.”
Her fists tightened, her heart thudding unevenly. “What I want is to return to the ballroom. As you noted, I’ve left my family’s side long enough.”
She gathered her skirt and strode past them. Two steps. Three.
Kaelendrin’s voice rang out, low but clear, cutting through the quiet. “Do you love him?”
She froze.
A lump clogged her throat. The answer should’ve been easy. Of course she loved Castiel. He’d been her closest confidant, keeper of her secrets, guardian of her heart. They’d been inseparable as children, unchanging in their youth.
It was supposed to stay that way, even after she Awakened as an Omega. That was loyalty. That was love. That was them .
She turned. “I love him,” she said, but the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
Kaelendrin’s gaze lingered, as if waiting for something more. ”Have you considered what this choice means for you? Betas and Omegas live different lives—need different things. Castiel may be a good man, but can he truly fulfill you?”
Her spine straightened. She shot back, “Presumptuous of you to assume otherwise. He may be a Beta, but he’s been there for me in ways no one else has. What right have you?—”
Kaelendrin stepped closer, the space shrinking until his presence pressed against her like a tangible force. His voice dropped to a near whisper, each word brushing over her skin. “You walk like someone waging a quiet war, torn between duty and desire—for choice, freedom, and . . . more .
He let the last word linger, low and knowing. Heat curled low in her belly, sharp and unwelcome. Lantern light flickered between them, casting shadows across his face, but the intensity in his eyes remained constant, unrelenting.
“I’ve seen it, Princess.” His voice dipped lower, intimate, every syllable brushing against her skin like a caress.
“That fire in your eyes. Castiel may feel safe, but safety isn’t fulfillment.
It isn’t desire. It isn’t happiness—and it certainly isn’t pleasure.
There are things he’ll never give you. Things you need.
Things you crave , whether you’ll admit it or not. ”
The words dripped from his lips like molten wax down the side of a candle—hot, smooth, slow.
Each one kissed a nerve she didn’t know she had.
Her cheeks flamed as meaning coiled sharp and bright in her mind, as she conjured images she had no business imagining.
And his scent—cedar and spice, dark and heady—wrapped around her, pulling her loose from reason, leaving her weightless and wanting.
He was a Sunborn—a tether in the storm of her emotions. This wasn’t real, not truly—just her Omega instincts responding to the force of him.
Reiya bristled, shoulders pulling back. “I suppose you presume you can fulfill those needs?”
He let her retreat, meeting her sharp gaze with a slow, deliberate smile. “I do not presume. I know .”
Before she could snap back, Alarik’s hand found his brother’s forearm—a subtle check. He leaned in, voice low, delivering a quiet warning. Whatever passed between them seemed to temper Kaelendrin’s edge. He sighed, raking a hand through his golden hair, the first crack in his composure.
“If it were up to me . . .” His voice softened, something unguarded slipping through. His gaze held hers. “I wouldn’t be your anchor. I’d be the wind at your back, watching you chase the horizon. I’d never hold you down.”
The words struck like a clap of thunder, leaving her balance teetering. For a moment, she forgot how to respond. His conviction slipped past her defences, too sincere to dismiss, too unsettling to believe outright.
“You speak as if you know me,” she said at last. “But you don’t.”
“No,” he agreed, quieter now. “Not yet. But I’d like to.”
The intensity of his gaze made her chest tighten, but before she could reply, he sighed, stepping back—not retreating, but giving her the space he seemed to know she needed.
Kaelendrin’s absence left a silence behind—until Alarik stepped into it. His voice, calm and steady, cut through the space between them.
“Can you give us that, Princess? Before you make an irrevocable decision, let us speak to your father. Ask for more time. A courtship, if you will, before paths are set in stone.”
His words landed heavier than they should have. Reiya gripped the folds of her skirt, willing herself to force air through the sudden tightness in her chest.
A courtship. Not a claim, not a command—an offer .
Alarik’s eyes never left hers, steady and unflinching, as if daring her to believe he meant it .
“You spoke of freedom during our dance,” he said, his voice quieter now, as though trying not to startle the fragile thing blooming between them. “You shouldn’t have to choose between duty and desire. There’s another way—a life where you don’t have to run to be free.”
The ground tilted beneath her—or maybe it was just the way his words scraped against walls she had spent so long fortifying. Hope was a dangerous thing. She knew better than to reach for it.
And yet, here he stood, offering it anyway.
She clenched her fists, burying the doubt before it could truly take root.
“The king has given me until morning,” she lowered her head and whispered. “Until then, you’ll have to wait.”
Her curtsy was swift, a sharp punctuation. She couldn’t afford to stand here anymore, drawn further into their orbit, helpless to resist.
“Good night, Prince Kaelendrin. Prince Alarik.”
She turned, steps brisk, the cool breeze skimming her flushed cheeks.
Let them think what they wanted.
She belonged to Castiel. His alone.
That was the truth.
It had to be.
But with every step, the certainty frayed. Leaving them felt like leaving something vital behind—something she couldn’t name.
She wrapped her arms around herself, warding off the chill that wasn’t there.
If this was what she wanted, why did it feel like a loss?