Chapter 54 #2
The chilling reality settled over her. Her breath hitched, composure threatening to crack as she stared at him. How easily he said it—as if snuffing out a life required no more effort than swatting a fly.
Perhaps, for him, it didn’t.
Perhaps he’d done it so many times, the act no longer carried any weight.
She swallowed hard. “I suppose you feel no remorse.”
“Why should I?” His brow lifted as though the question itself were absurd. “Jodhar was a leech. A loud, witless dog snapping at shadows. The world is better without Alphas like him.”
A chill pricked at her spine. The world was better off without Alphas like Jodhar—or without Alphas at all?
“And Kaelen?” she pressed, her voice dropping, sharper now. “Was it you who fired the arrow that poisoned him?”
His grin was disarming. “No, that was Jodhar, but I watched it happen.” His eyes hardened. “Make no mistake, dove, if I’d meant to kill your prince earlier, he would’ve been dead.”
Her stomach churned at the admission, but she pushed the nausea aside.
“You let me go,” she said. “Back on the ship. You left the cabin door open. Why?”
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “Who says I left it open intentionally? Perhaps it was carelessness. ”
“Careless? You?” Her lips pressed together. “I think not. I’m realizing you never do anything without cause and effect.”
His grip on her waist shifted slightly as they turned in perfect unison, his movements smooth, controlled, practiced. He didn’t answer, but she wasn’t letting this go.
“So?” she pressed.
“You always ask the wrong questions, don’t you, dove? Instead of asking why I let you go, perhaps you should be asking what I took in return.”
Her pulse stuttered, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “You took nothing from me.”
His smile was all sharp edges. “Didn’t I?” he murmured.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, something glittered between his fingers, catching the ballroom lights with cruel precision—a delicate, wing-shaped pendant.
Reiya’s stomach dropped.
The last time she’d seen it, she had pressed it into Mei Mei’s palm, a silent farewell, a promise to one day see the girl again. It should’ve been far from here—safe, untouched.
Yet, here it was, dangling from Castiel’s hand.
A cold shock ripped through her, the ground beneath her suddenly unsteady. Her chest tightened like a fist had closed around her ribs.
No.
Castiel’s lips curled faintly as they turned again, their dance movements a mockery of normalcy. His hand on her waist guided her just firmly enough to remind her of his control.
“Ah, you recognize it. Lovely craftsmanship, isn’t it? A gift, if I recall correctly?”
She nearly stumbled, but she caught herself. Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Where is she?”
He spun her out, forcing her to release his hand before pulling her back into his hold, the chain dangling between them like bait.
“Safe with her family,” he said smoothly as they glided back into step. “For now.”
Her hands trembled. “If you hurt her—if you hurt any of them?—”
“Hurting them would hardly serve me, dove. Keeping them? Now, that’s leverage.” He leaned in, his voice low and almost tender. “A bargaining chip. Surely, you understand.”
She clung to her composure, even when fury bubbled inside her, threatening to spill over. Her body moved reflexively to the music.
“You think this will break me?” she said, her words sharp and quiet. “That I’ll fall apart because you’ve stooped to this?”
His smile didn’t falter as he turned her sharply, forcing her to focus on maintaining her footing.
“Oh no, breaking you isn’t necessary,” he murmured, his tone silken. “I’m only here to remind you that freedom comes at a price.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart pounded, anger twisting through her, cold and clean, sharpening her focus to a blade’s edge.
“What will you do?” He asked, the serene smile in place. “It’s all up to you now, dove.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. How she hated the ease with which he twisted those childhood words of encouragement into something mocking, as if she could choose to bargain with the lives of people who had come to mean so much to her.
Her eyes shifted. The chain dangled closer as they moved.
Her fingers twitched within Castiel’s, a subtle adjustment as if seeking a better hold.
Her touch was careful, unhurried—and then, with a deft pinch, she caught the necklace between her fingers.
Castiel didn’t stop her; he let it remain in her grasp, his gaze already drawn to a flicker of movement at the ballroom’s edge.
“And your Alphas?” he continued, his words like poison in her ear.
“I can feel their eyes on us. Watching. Waiting for something. A signal, maybe? A cue from you to take action?” He spun her again.
“Let them seize me. Kill me, if you wish. But know this—should I fail to return, the orders have already been given.”
Her heart seized, but her steps remained steady, each movement a calculated effort to maintain her mask.
“What orders?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“The merchant family,” he said softly, his voice like a dagger cloaked in velvet. “Every last one of them. From the young child to the grandparent. How badly do you want freedom, dove? Do you still want it when their blood stains your hands? ”
Her fingers tightened around the pendant’s chain until she felt the metal bite into her palm, keeping her expression smooth.
“What makes you think I won’t expose you right now?” she murmured. “You’re far from your lackeys. Your capture will give us time—time to find them, time to rescue?—”
Castiel’s laughter was soft but rich. His grip firm as he drew her closer into his hold, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Do you truly believe that?” he mused, his tone almost indulgent. “That I’d set foot in this gilded den alone? That my plans hinge on my own survival?”
Her stomach twisted. The crowd blurred at the edges of her vision, faces and colours swirling in a chaotic dance of their own. She caught sight of a flash of crimson—Anna?s’s feathered costume.
Was it her? Her father? Others?
Castiel leaned in, his breath a whisper against her ear. “I hope, for their sake, no one you care for tries to be a hero tonight.”
She forced herself to steady, the gravity of the situation pressing down on her.
‘This isn’t over. Stall. Figure out where the Xians are.’
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she said, her voice light as they glided seamlessly across the polished floor. “The Xians are a hardy bunch, not ones to bow easily. Not even to you.”
Castiel exhaled a quiet chuckle, as if she’d said something charmingly naive. “Oh no, dove,” he said breezily. “They don’t need to bow. Just stay put.”
Her gaze flicked downward as they turned yet again, catching a faint white stain clinging to his boots. Her steps faltered—just slightly—but enough for Castiel’s grip on her waist to tighten.
“Careful, dove,” he murmured, his smirk lazy, steering her seamlessly back into rhythm. “Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”
Reiya barely heard him. She’d seen marks like that before—had watched palace servants kneel in the entry hall, scrubbing her brothers’ boots whenever they returned from sea.
She could still picture it vividly—the crisp scent of brine lingering in the corridors, the damp leather lined up in neat rows, each pair streaked with fine white crusts where seawater had dried.
The servants had grumbled about it often, cursing how saltwater stiffened the leather, how the stain had to be scrubbed out before it cracked and peeled.
It took her a moment to register what she was seeing. The fine, crystalline dust wasn’t makeup powder or spilled sugar from the banquet tables.
It was salt.
Salt stains.
A strange detail, insignificant on its own, yet it lodged itself in her mind, tugging at something.
Where in Asadia would boots carry such marks?
Her thoughts churned, scanning for the answer even as they moved in perfect step. Salt. Brackish residue. The kind left behind after water had long since dried.
Her heart stuttered. The pieces clicked into place with chilling clarity—so simple, so easily missed. A cry rose to her throat, but she bit the inside of her cheek hard, until she tasted iron.
The salt basins. The brackish wells.
The northern plains past Mezerin. Zahalyar—the settlements that had suffered most from the drought—the same region Kaelen had lamented only days ago when discussing the aqueduct funding proposal. Parched land, partially abandoned, its once-thriving fields reduced to barren crusted earth.
A place where water was power. Where survival itself could be controlled.
A perfect site to hold hostages.
Cut off from all water supplies, the Xians wouldn’t need chains to keep them in place. The drought did all the work. The absence of rain, the scarcity of wells—it encouraged obedience, made even the proudest bend.
Her breath shallowed, but she forced herself to appear ignorant.Her body followed the music’s rhythm while her mind raced. She caught sight of Kaelen and Alarik across the ballroom, their eyes tracking her every movement.
They knew. They sensed something wasn’t right. They must’ve recognized Castiel .
They were waiting for her signal to move. But she couldn’t give it—not yet.
She had to be sure .
“Enough talking now,” Castiel murmured, his tone almost lazy, but his fingers pressed more insistently into her waist. “It’s time for us to go, Princess. Say goodbye to all this splendour. I doubt you’ll ever see it again.”
A sharp thrill of fear curled through her, but her lips curved into a serene smile.
“You always did have a flair for theatrics, Castiel,” she mused, her voice light, airy. “But I don’t recall agreeing to leave just yet.”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened. “I wasn’t asking, dove.”
His grip tightened, fingers pressing into her side until her ribs ached. Her mind spun, searching for a way out. Refusing would mean the Xians’ lives. But if she left without leaving a message for Kaelen and Alarik . . .
Think, Reiya. Think.
The ballroom blurred at the edges as he pulled her toward the doors, colours and faces bleeding into a meaningless haze. She needed a clue. Something small, something only Kaelen and Alarik would recognize.
Her gaze flicked downward.
The braided bracelet on her wrist, woven with the delicate stargazer flower. A symbol of love, of guidance. Of finding one’s way back home.
Also of . . . true north .
She pressed her lips together. It wasn’t much. Between this and the winged pendant, which they knew she’d gifted to Mei Mei, Kaelen and Alarik might understand. No, they had to.
Across the room, she stole a final glance at them.
Kaelen stood rigid, shoulders tense, fists clenching at his sides as though holding himself back from charging forward.
Beside him, Alarik loomed in his dark attire, still as a predator watching its prey, his face unreadable beneath the mask but brimming with quiet menace.
She felt their urgency, their frustration, their plea for her to act .
But Castiel was watching, his awareness razor-sharp. If she made a misstep, if she faltered even a fraction too soon, he’d know.
Her fingers curled subtly at her side, forming the agreed-upon signal.
Hold. Wait.
Kaelen’s eyes flared, frustration clear in every rigid line of his body. Alarik, ever the steadier of the two, gave the faintest nod, though his jaw tightened.
Her heart ached at the sight of them—Kaelen’s desperation, Alarik’s quiet fury—but she couldn’t falter now.
Trust me. She willed the words to them, though her face remained vacant, even as her pulse thundered beneath her skin.
Just a little longer.