Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
REIYANA
T he prison cells beneath Turasid Palace was a far cry from the grand, sunlit halls above. Here, the air hung damp and stale. Reiya’s steps echoed softly as she moved down the corridor, torchlight casting long shadows against the stone walls.
Kaelen and Alarik walked behind her, their presence steady, though it did little to ease the disquiet.
She stopped in front of the heavy iron door, staring at it a beat longer than necessary.
Kaelen unlocked the door, but he did not release the handle.
“She doesn’t deserve your time,” he said. “Whatever she says won’t change what she and her father have done.”
“I know,” she replied.
Yet, her hand lingered just above his, about to open the door.
“I . . . suppose I want some closure.”
Alarik remained silent behind her, watching closely. He wouldn’t stop her. He understood the quiet pull that sometimes drove her to seek answers, even when they brought little comfort.
Kaelen’s jaw tensed, but he released the handle and stepped back without another word .
Her fingers brushed the iron, and with a soft creak, she pulled the door open.
The cell was colder than she expected.
Anna?s sat on the edge of the narrow cot, framed by the thin shafts of sunlight seeping through the barred window, an open book in her hand. The drab black dress she wore was a stark contrast to the firebird costume Reiya had last seen her in.
She entered and closed the door behind her, but Anna?s didn’t look up from the pages.
“I was wondering when you’d come,” the woman said at last. “Here to gloat?”
The ease in her tone was a fragile mask—one Reiya recognized too well. The veil people wore when pride was all they had left.
“I’m not here to gloat,” she said quietly. “I’m here to see how you’re faring—now that your father has discarded you.” She paused. “I assume he’s the reason you did what you did.”
Anna?s’s composure cracked. Her smirk twitched, then settled back into place.
“He made his choice,” she said flatly.
Reiya’s eyes narrowed. “He certainly escaped before anyone could make him answer for it. Whatever happened, he left you behind to clean up his mess without a backward glance. Doesn’t that anger you?”
Anna?s’s knuckles tightened around the book in her lap, but her face remained still.
“I don’t know what you expect from me,” she said, her tone flat. “As I told the interrogators—I don’t know how he escaped. I don’t know his plans. Or Castiel Vaelmont’s.”
Reiya stared at her for a long moment. There was defiance in Anna?s’s eyes, yes—but underneath it, something else. Something uncertain. Abandoned.
The woman lifted her chin, forcing a smile. “But since Castiel is rotting in a cell a few doors down, why not ask him yourself?”
The thought left Reiya cold.
Castiel wasn’t a villain born from cruelty alone. His hatred of the system—the Crowns, the caste, the Alphas who shaped the world to their will—wasn’t without cause .
She could understand it, even sympathize with the spark that had driven him.
But understanding couldn’t change what he’d done.
It couldn’t erase the bruises on her wrists, the knife he’d pressed to her throat—or the door he’d left open, not as an escape but as an invitation to drown. It couldn’t bring back the lives he had bartered away or undo the damage he’d left in his wake.
His reasons, no matter how righteous, couldn’t absolve him of his actions—or the consequences that followed.
Reiya met Anna?s’s gaze squarely. “No reason undoes what’s been done, and no explanation changes who he is now.”
Anna?s’s smirk faltered, something flickering behind her eyes—recognition, perhaps.
Reiya’s voice dropped lower, steady and sharp. “Some things don’t deserve the comfort of justification.”
Silence settled between them. For Castiel—for whatever loyalty he had broken—that silence would have to be enough.
Anna?s looked away. “In the end, my father was weak,” she murmured, almost to herself. “So, who knows? Perhaps he did escape simply to evade the consequences.”
“Even if it meant leaving you alone?” Reiya paused. “When you are the last of the Mezerins? There’s no one left in his stead to?—”
She paused, the thought echoing louder than she expected.
Anna?s would leave this cell one day. Not to execution—a highborn Omega like her was too valuable for death—but perhaps to exile, stripped of title, family, and the privileges that once made her formidable. Alone.
Reiya’s lips pressed into a thin line.
She didn’t pity Anna?s, but she understood the fear that came with isolation. Omegas were rarely left untethered, free to navigate the world without protection. Their value had always been measured by the bonds they formed—whether in politics, alliances, or personal relationships.
Without Hassamir circulating in court, Anna?s would be at the mercy of politics. And in a world as ruthless as theirs, vulnerability in an Omega was an open wound, inviting opportunists to circle .
Anna?s’s eyes hardened again. “Don’t pretend you understand. Don’t pretend you care. You’ve always had someone at your side—your family, the princes, Lady Neda and Thalina.” Her voice dipped, cutting. “Even Castiel Vaelmont, once. I never had that luxury.”
Reiya’s heart twisted, but she didn’t look away.
“I know what loneliness feels like,” she said quietly. “But you chose this path when you didn’t have to.”
Anna?s’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Her gaze dropped to the cold stone floor.
“You betrayed the people who could’ve stood with you,” Reiya continued. “I don’t know if that’s something you can undo. But I hope—for your sake—that you find another way.”
For a long moment, Anna?s said nothing. When she finally looked up, her expression was unreadable. “I don’t need your pity, Princess.”
Reiya nodded, stepping back toward the door. “Good. Because I’m not offering it.”
The smirk returned to those lips, though she could see a quiver.
“I will be alright, you’ll see.” Anna?s stood and smoothed her palms down her skirt, chin lifted. For a moment, she was that Omega again, ready to dazzle everyone in the room. “After all, I am an Omega. And, like you said, a Mezerin. Too precious to be killed and discarded.”
“That, I know to be true,” she said. “Goodbye, then, Anna?s. I hope life gives you another chance.”
She walked to the door, her hand pausing at the latch as she looked over her shoulder.
“And if it does, I pray you don’t squander it.”
A bove the dungeons, dusk had turned into night. Lanterns cast a soft glow over the garden as Reiya and Lady Neda walked together, the gentle rustle of leaves accompanying their steps toward the eastern pavilion.
Through the carved stone arches ahead, flickers of light marked where Kaelen, Alarik, and King Azarion waited .
As they crossed the narrow bridge over a reflecting pool, Reiya finally spoke.
“Did it disappoint the king?”
Lady Neda lifted a brow in silent inquiry.
“Anna?s’s betrayal,” she clarified. “I thought . . . perhaps he’d hoped for more.”
The consort’s expression barely shifted, but amusement glinted in her dark eyes. “If you are asking whether Azarion was heartbroken by the loss of her affections,” Lady Neda said lightly, “then, no. He saw through her long before her plans unravelled.”
Reiya absorbed that, but a small frown crept onto her lips. “He never seemed to stop her attempts, though.”
Lady Neda slowed beneath the archway leading to the pavilion.
“He didn’t have to. Your father-in-law is no fool.
Flirtations like Anna?s’s are common at court—harmless, unless given room to take root.
Azarion knows better than to entertain distractions when their true purpose is political maneuvering. ”
“And Hassamir?” she pressed.
The consort’s amusement faded. “That was different. Anna?s played a shallow game. Her father, Azarion’s own cousin . . . his betrayal cuts deeper.”
“I suppose betrayal from a family member is harder to forgive.”
“It is.” Lady Neda resumed walking, her gaze lifting toward the lanterns where the king and the princes waited. “Azarion won’t dwell on the loss of Anna?s’s false affection. His focus is where it belongs—on his kingdom’s security and future, and his family.”
“Do you think she regrets it?” she asked quietly.
The consort didn’t answer immediately.
“Perhaps,” she said at last. “But regret doesn’t always lead to redemption. Some cling to their pride, even as it drags them under.”
She remembered the cold look in Anna?s’s eyes, alone in her cell.
Yes, that she understood.
Lady Neda’s voice pulled her from the memory. “Come now,” she said lightly, slipping her arm through Reiya’s. “Your new family awaits, my dear—and I prefer to have my tea while it’s still warm.”
Reiya smiled, letting the warmth of the moment carry her forward .
The past could linger, but for now, she left it where it belonged—behind her.
They reached the pavilion, stepping onto the terrace as the soft murmur of voices quieted. King Azarion looked up from his seat at the head of the table. Kaelen and Alarik rose at their entrance.
She began to curtsy, but the king waved her off.
“No need for formalities when we’re with family,” he said, his tone warm but edged with the weariness of long days. “Sit. We were discussing the latest correspondence from Aethonia.”
Lady Neda reached for the teapot, her movements slow and deliberate, as if the conversation hadn’t just shifted into something far more delicate. She poured the king’s tea with practiced grace, the soft trickle of liquid the only sound in the hush.
“My king,” she murmured, setting the pot down and lifting her own cup, “before we bring up the letter from Reiya’s parents, have you given any further thought to Lady Anna?s?”
King Azarion exhaled through his nose, tension flickering in his brow. “Until Hassamir is found and executed, she remains a complication.”