Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
REIYANA
T he next morning unfolded in a quiet haze. Reiya arranged the Xian family’s goods at the stall while Vhalis Thorn stirred to life—awnings unfurling, carts creaking open, and early customers chatting over steaming cups of tea.
She was adjusting a pair of embroidered slippers when a flicker at the edge of her vision pulled her back. She turned, and there he was—the same Alpha from last night, striding through the market, dust curling beneath his boots. The noise around her thinned, as if the air itself braced for him.
Every instinct tensed as he stopped in front of her table.
His dark brown eyes flicked to hers, a large hand trailing across the belts she’d just arranged, brushing over the leather pouches.
He sifted through them slowly, deliberately, pausing from time to time to lift an item to his nose and inhale deeply.
Then, his hand found her belt—the one she’d spent hours embroidering with care, the soft earthy tones and floral motifs stitched not just for decoration but with a secret wish for a fresh start. His fingertips traced the design, and her throat closed around the silence.
Slowly, he lifted it, bringing it to his nose, eyes fluttering closed.
Her world narrowed to the Alpha and the belt in his grasp. His nostrils flared when he caught her scent on the leather. He stared at her from beneath his lashes, eyes dark and intent, as if he’d known who and what she was all along.
A cold shiver skittered down her spine. Her nails pressed into the stall’s edge, knuckles whitening. He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. That look—piercing, assessing, hungry —stripped through every layer, reaching for the Omega she hid beneath fabric and dust.
The instinct to flee or submit roared beneath her skin, but Reiya forced it down. Her trembling hands steadied.
She would not break—not here.
“This one,” the Alpha rumbled in Isseric, his voice was gravel grinding against steel.
Her throat felt dry, the words barely escaping. “Twelve dunis , please.”
The Alpha reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. The clink of metal rang sharp, each coin bouncing lightly against the wood before settling into a small heap.
Her fingers trembled as she counted them. Among the dunis, local currency of brass and copper, gleamed six solaris —the most valuable coins accepted in the Nine Issoirean Kingdoms.
He gave her more than three times the sum she’d asked. She glanced up to tell him, but he’d already turned away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the flow of the market, the belt in his grip.
Xian Jun’s voice broke softly behind her, meant only for her ears. “That’s Jodhar. The caravan elder, Tasim, hired him and his team for protection.”
Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She swallowed, working moisture back into her dry throat. “He’s the leader?”
Xian Jun nodded, grim and watchful. “This isn’t his first time guarding the caravan.
” His gaze drifted toward where Jodhar had vanished into the crowd.
“He’s ruthless. An Alpha through and through.
Some would rather not have him here, but on this road .
. .” His voice dipped lower. “Men like him are the difference between reaching the next outpost or not reaching it at all.”
Reiya’s grip tightened on the belt in her hands. Her skin prickled, the phantom weight of Jodhar’s gaze lingering like an echo she couldn’t shake.
“Better get used to him,” Xian Jun added. “He’s with us until Dune Crest.”
“Dune Crest?”
Xian Jun nodded. “From there, we’ll head east to Vey’tar Oasis while the rest of the caravan continue westward to Bashkor.”
“How long before we reach Dune Crest?”
Xian Jun considered for a moment. “About two weeks, give or take—depending on how long we stop at the outposts to trade and rest.”
Two weeks, and she’d escape the Alpha.
She chewed her lip, unease gnawing at her. Jodhar wasn’t just any Alpha—he was trouble.
And trouble always had a way of finding her.
“I didn’t get the chance to give him his change,” she murmured, staring at the coins Jodhar left behind.
Xian Jun’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll handle it,” he said, scooping up the pouch and counting out the exact amount. “Best not owe an Alpha like him anything—not even a single coin.”
Warning wove beneath his words. Reiya was certain he understood—debts with someone like Jodhar came at a cost far greater than currency.
“Thank you, Xian Jun.”
The market hummed along, Alphas passing without notice, and slowly, her shoulders eased.
Still, that evening, she returned to the herbalist’s stall to purchase the Heat suppression remedy.
T he next day, seven families gathered at the southern edge of Vhalis Thorn.
Seven wagons lined up, horses harnessed and supplies loaded as they exchanged greetings and farewells.
Hired Alphas drifted through the crowd, their sharp eyes scanning everything and everyone.
Reiya kept her head down, hands busy with tying up parcels.
Awareness prickled under her skin, but she ignored it .
Early that morning, as the herbalist had instructed, she brewed the suppressant in secret while the Xian family packed. She’d gulped it down despite the burn on her tongue. The herbalist had assured her drinking it once every two days would be enough to keep the symptoms at bay.
Hopefully, it would make the journey ahead feel a little less precarious.
As the last wagon settled into place with a groan, the caravan eased forward beneath the pale morning sky. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and creaking wooden wheels merged with soft conversations, wrapping the procession in a steady, unhurried pace.
Inside the wagon, Reiya sat beside Mei Mei, shoulders finally dropping. Away from watchful eyes, she allowed herself a moment of quiet relief.
The reprieve was brief. Mei Mei scooted closer, small fingers tugging at her collar with unabashed curiosity.
“That’s pretty,” the girl whispered, wide eyes fixed on the wing-shaped pendant resting against her collarbone.
Reiya smiled, brushing her thumb over the cool crystal. “Would you like to hold it?”
Mei Mei nodded eagerly. Reiya unfastened the chain around her neck and dropped the necklace into the girl’s waiting hand.
“Does it make you fly?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Not quite,” Reiya chuckled. “But I like to think it might.”
The child dangled the pendant from her fingers, watching it swing. “It looks like it’s flying!”
Reiya smiled and gently tucked a curl behind Mei Mei’s ear, warmth settling in her chest. “You can keep it for a little while. Just promise not to let it fly away.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, pressing the pendant to her chest as if it were the priciest of treasures.
Reiya watched her for a long moment, a quiet longing stirring deep inside.
The pendant had once carried her hopes, bright and burning—but reality had dulled its shine .
Yet here, in a child’s small hands, it seemed to catch the light again—a simpler purpose, but precious still.
By dusk, the caravan camped near a shallow creek, fires crackling to life as families settled in. Bedrolls were spread over the packed earth, open to the night sky and scattered stars.
Reiya laid down beside the sleeping Mei Mei, the steady rhythm of the child’s breathing a quiet comfort against the low hum of camp life.
But as the night stretched on, unease settled deep in her bones.
The low murmur of Alphas’ voices from the fire a distance away scraped against her nerves—too rough, too loud; each syllable a reminder of how fragile her stolen calm truly was.
Yet, they paid her no mind, their gazes skimming past her without a flicker of recognition.
The tea, it seemed, was working.
One thing became clear: the suppressant made her invisible to them, but it did nothing to dull her awareness of them .
She curled tighter beneath her blanket, instincts coiling like wire. That traitorous pull in her belly—the one that sensed Alphas before thought could catch up—tugged at her awareness. She hated it. Hated the whisper inside her that kept her alert when all she wanted was numbness.
She’d never been this surrounded before.
The tournament had come close—the swell of power in the arena, the undercurrent of challenge and barely leashed dominance—but decorum had kept the contenders in check. Even at the victory ball, etiquette had softened the edges.
Only Kaelendrin and Alarik had defied that.
They tested rules, bent them—just enough to see if she’d bend too.
They made her want. Made her feel , even when she’d already chosen another. That was their danger—not malice, not force, but the quiet undoing of everything she thought she knew about herself.
Alphas like Jodhar were different. Cruder. Cruel-edged.
On their shared bedroll, she pressed closer to Mei Mei, hoping the girl’s warmth might chase away the unease. The princes were far from this caravan now, but their memory lingered like a fading note in the dark .
Eventually, exhaustion claimed her. But sleep offered no peace—only ghosts of what had been, and the shadows waiting on the road ahead.
T he next morning, Reiya woke at dawn, her sleep fractured by dreams that scattered like mist the moment she opened her eyes. Fatigue clung to her bones, but the day was already stirring—and she must follow.
The morning chill bit her skin as she carried buckets to the creek, the cold air sharpening her senses, chasing away the remnants of unease. Each step grounded her—a simple routine, a fragile sense of normalcy she couldn’t afford to lose.
Then she heard it: a distant rumble.
She froze, gaze snapping upward. Dust churned along the horizon, trailing behind a line of riders moving at a relentless pace—dark silhouettes framed by the rising sun. Light glinted off dull armour and worn weapons, their outlines shifting like mirages as they raced toward the encampment.