Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
REIYANA
T he warmth of the ballroom, filled with laughter and conversation, greeted her upon return. She slipped seamlessly into the swirl of dancers and courtiers; every smile, every laugh, every graceful tilt of her head a carefully measured performance.
Yet tonight, her well-honed mask felt fragile, as if it might crack under the weight of what had transpired.
Across the room, she spotted the Asadian princes with Lord Alexander Wulfbane, who’d decided to grace the celebration after all.
Their presence thrummed beneath the ballroom’s chatter.
She tried to focus on the courtiers around her, but her senses betrayed her, drawn inexorably back to them—the way they simply were, effortless yet commanding.
She turned away. Her path was set, her choice made, sealed with a kiss beneath the moonlight. No sense dwelling on fleeting words or stolen glances.
Her future demanded focus.
The night stretched on, the revelry relentless. Laughter wove through the music, gilding the air with deceptive lightness. Beneath it all, her pulse pounded, quickening with each passing moment .
She needed to leave—before the ship sailed, before Castiel thought she’d changed her mind.
Reiya moved toward where her parents sat behind the royal table, watching the sea of dancers. Leaning toward her mother, she grazed her temple with her fingers.
“May I be excused?” she asked, keeping her tone subdued. “I’d like to rest and be fresh for tomorrow’s announcement.”
Her mother’s eyes brightened, pride flickering in their depths. “Of course, my dear,” she murmured, brushing a stray lock from Reiya’s shoulder with fondness. “You’ll want to look your best.”
Her father gave a measured nod. “Rest well, daughter.” His voice was even, but she caught the curiosity beneath it.
Her mother, less reserved, leaned closer, a smile of anticipation on her lips. “Do you know yet? Have you decided?”
Reiya’s serene smile held, though it felt like a veil stretched thin. Tilting her head slightly, she kept her tone perfectly measured. “You’ll know tomorrow, just like everyone else.”
Her parents exchanged a brief, contented glance before returning their attention to the dancers.
She straightened, keeping her steps sedate as she left the table. For a moment, she lingered at the ballroom’s edge, watching them. They seemed peaceful, believing her life had fallen neatly into place.
They had laid out this path for her since her Awakening, convinced she would find happiness and fulfillment within it.
Her heart twisted. Guilt gnawed at the edges, the ache of knowing she was about to shatter their hopes.
This was not just an escape. It was a betrayal .
She swallowed hard. Silently, she asked for their forgiveness—for the fracture she was about to cause, for the disappointment and shame, for the pain that would follow.
And hoped they would forgive her, in time.
I nside her bedroom, Reiya stood still as Fia helped her into a nightgown, sat her in front of the mirror, and combed through her hair.
“Did you have a good time, Princess?”
Reiya looked down and pretended to inspect her nails. “The music and decorations were lovely. As expected.”
Fia’s chuckle drew her eyes to the mirror. Her maid’s eyes twinkled. “The palace is all abuzz. Aethonia will soon have three Alphas in its royal family. Imagine that!” She clasped her hands, barely containing her delight. “Princess, you’ve given your people peace of mind.”
The words landed like a stone in Reiya’s chest.
Three Alphas. Thorir, and . . . the Asadian princes?
Reiya forced a smile, but it felt brittle. Fia’s joy—so genuine, so full of faith—was crushing. What would her people think when they discovered she’d left? A princess abandoning her duty, turning her back on a kingdom that had placed its hopes in her.
She swallowed hard, nodded, and watched in silence as Fia curtsied and left.
The moment the door clicked shut, her smile vanished.
She dug out an old leather satchel and packed swiftly—essentials only, as Castiel had instructed. A plain linen dress, no stays. The absence of stiff laces already felt like a small victory, a fleeting taste of freedom. The wing-shaped crystal necklace was the only jewelry she kept on.
Her gaze swept the room, lingering on familiar corners, belongings steeped in memory. Would she ever return? Homesickness pressed in, but she pushed it aside and turned toward the door.
Halfway across the room, her eyes caught on a dagger atop her dresser.
She picked it up, the weight settling in her palm—an Awakening gift from her mother.
Ivory pearls lined the hilt, shimmering in the candlelight, while the limyerite blade gleamed, sharp enough to cut through hesitation.
Like the pearl necklace, it had been blessed at Luneth’s temple, meant to guide her to the Alpha she was destined for.
She tucked it into her skirt’s hidden pocket. The weight was both comfort and burden—a reminder of the love and expectations she was about to leave behind. Perhaps she shouldn’t take it, considering the betrayal she was committing, but she hoped Luneth would understand.
Lowering her head, she sent up a quick prayer. ‘Forgive me, goddess. Forgive me for seeking freedom beyond the bonds you blessed.’
A glance at the water clock showed it was nearly three turns to sunrise.
Reiya donned a dark cloak and slipped from her chambers.
Footsteps soft against the marble, she wove through the palace halls where laughter and music still lingered, muffled by heavy doors.
Outside, the crescent moon cast silver ribbons across the garden paths.
And at the far end, beneath the old carob tree, Castiel stepped from the shadows.
Relief unfurled in her chest, easing the chill on her skin.
She quickened her pace. When she reached him, his eyes searched hers.
“A part of me thought you’d changed your mind,” he murmured, lacing their fingers together.
“I wouldn’t be here if I had.”
His hand tightened as he bent to kiss her—soft, certain, sealing a promise unspoken yet understood.
He led her through the palace’s hidden paths, his familiarity steadying her fraying nerves. They slipped through a rarely-used gate, the towering walls fading behind them.
Beyond an olive grove outside the palace, a horse-drawn cart waited beneath the twisted branches, its silhouette blending into the dark. Castiel climbed onto the seat, offering his hand as she settled beside him. The cart creaked forward, swallowed by the hush of the night.
The path wound between low stone walls and gnarled olive trees, the ground shifting from smooth rock to packed earth. The rhythmic clatter of wheels mingled with the distant crash of waves, the scent of brine laced with the lingering warmth of sunbaked leaves.
Reiya pulled her cloak tighter to ward off the cool breeze, nerves humming beneath the night air.
“Where are we going first?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“To Batteron.” Castiel’s tone was effortlessly calm. “I sent a Sparo ahead to arrange for a priest. We’ll be married at the earliest opportunity.”
A Sparo—one of the swift, sharp-eyed birds bred for carrying urgent missives across land and sea. Quick, discreet, loyal to their handlers. Trust Castiel to think of everything.
And . . . Batteron. A peaceful, neutral kingdom not far from Aethonia—two days of leisurely sailing.
Small, prosperous. As a diplomat, Castiel had ties there, favours earned through years of negotiations on behalf of Aethonia.
It was the perfect place to lay low, where a noble Beta and an Omega princess could marry before anyone stopped them.
A flicker of guilt stirred. She’d never imagined marrying like an orphan—no family, no community, no celebration with her loved ones.
But perhaps freedom demanded its own kind of sacrifice.
“You’ve thought of everything,” she praised, casting him a sidelong glance.
He grinned, moonlight catching the glint in his eyes. “It’s the diplomat in me. Sending a Sparo ahead is the least I could do.”
It was just like him—always one step ahead, leaving nothing to chance.
As the cart rumbled closer to the harbour, Reiya pushed her hood back just enough to peer into the night, shoulders dropping with relief at the sight before her.
The pier stood eerily still, quieter than during those restless nights she’d spent watching it from her window.
Normally, dockworkers would be hauling crates under lantern light, and sailors would bustle around their vessels, calling out to one another as they prepared for the next tide.
Tonight, the harbour felt as if it had exhaled along with the sea, draped in stillness.
From a storage house farther down the pier, muted sounds of laughter and clinking goblets drifted through the air.
Reiya’s lips curled, realizing the whole city must’ve joined in the celebration, and even the coast guards and harbourmasters were drawn away by wine and revelry.
The palace had surely sent barrels of refreshments to ensure no corner of Nymaris was excluded from the festivities.
Castiel parked the wagon against a low stone wall and climbed down.
She took his proffered hand, boots landing softly on the sand.
Her gaze flicked toward the wharves. For once, silence was an ally.
No watchful eyes meant slipping onto the ship would be easier than she had dared hope—her escape more tangible.
He led her to the end of the pier, where their ship awaited, moored apart from the others, tucked into shadow. Its sails lay neatly furled against the masts, moonlight casting a soft gleam on the polished wood. His hand remained at the small of her back, steady as he guided her up the gangplank.
“Where will we go after Batteron?” she asked halfway up, eager to imagine carefree days beyond these shores.
When Castiel didn’t respond, she glanced over her shoulder. His smile was tight.
“One step at a time, dove.”