Chapter 189

Chapter 189
Rhea

I regretted it the moment Kael left for home alone that morning.

Through the bond—thin and carefully throttled as he'd tried to make it—I could still feel everything. The suppression. The restraint. The anger simmering beneath layers of military discipline. The disappointment that cut deeper than any blade.

It felt like someone was taking a knife and slowly carving pieces out of his heart, one deliberate slice at a time.

I'd grabbed my phone before I'd even fully processed the decision, my fingers already pulling up Alex's contact. "I need your help," I said the moment he answered, my voice steadier than I felt. "And I need it now."

---

Now, standing in front of the Striker family estate with Alex at my side, I was more certain than ever that I'd made the right call.

The building loomed before us, all cold stone and sharp angles, the kind of architecture designed to intimidate rather than welcome. Everything about it screamed old money and older expectations, the weight of generations pressing down on anyone who walked through those doors.

The door swung open before we could knock, and a middle-aged couple practically tumbled out, their faces arranged in expressions of such exaggerated delight that I'd seen more genuine smiles on courtiers angling for favors back home.

"Your Highness! Princess! What an unexpected honor!" The woman—Isolde, I assumed from Alex's brief mentions—clasped her hands together. "Please, please come in! We're absolutely delighted—"

I ignored the hand she extended, my gaze sweeping past her into the entrance hall. The photographs lining the walls told me everything I needed to know about this place and the people who lived here. Row after row of achievements, medals, formal portraits—and in every single one, the same face that wasn't Kael's.

"Where is Kael Striker?" My voice came out colder than I'd intended, but I didn't soften it.

Isolde blinked, her smile faltering for just a fraction of a second before snapping back into place. "Oh, Kael? He's in the study, but Your Highness, if you'd like to sit down first, perhaps some refreshments—"

I was already moving, following the pull of the bond like a compass needle finding true north. Behind me, I heard Vincent start to protest, heard Alex's measured footsteps as he followed, but I didn't slow down.

The study door wasn't locked. I pushed it open without knocking.

Kael stood by the window, his back rigid in that way that meant he was holding himself together through sheer force of will. The winter sunlight streaming through the glass should have softened his silhouette, but instead it just made him look more isolated, a dark figure cut off from warmth.

He turned at the sound of the door, and for a moment—just a heartbeat—his carefully controlled expression cracked. His pupils dilated, his lips parted slightly, and through the bond I felt a surge of confusion mixed with something that felt dangerously close to hope.

"Rhea?" My name came out rough, almost questioning. "How did you—"

I didn't let him finish.

In three strides I crossed the room, and before his parents, before Alex, before the shocked butler hovering in the doorway, I cupped Kael's face in both hands, rose up on my toes, and kissed him.

Not a gentle brush of lips. Not a chaste peck suitable for public consumption. A real kiss, the kind that said everything I couldn't put into words—that he mattered, that he was seen, that he wasn't alone.

Behind me, someone made a strangled gasping sound.

I didn't care.

When I finally pulled back, keeping my hands on his face, keeping our foreheads touching, I spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Then, making absolutely certain there could be no misunderstanding, I added, "I couldn't let my mate face this alone."

---

The silence that followed could have shattered glass.

I turned, keeping one hand linked with Kael's, and faced his parents. Vincent had gone pale beneath his tan, one hand gripping the back of a chair like he needed the support. Isolde's mouth had actually fallen open, her practiced society mask completely abandoned in her shock.

"Mate?" Isolde's voice climbed half an octave, the word coming out almost shrill. "Princess, did you just say—Kael is your mate?"

I met her eyes without blinking, letting every ounce of my royal training settle into my posture. "Yes. Kael Striker is my fated mate, blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. Is there a problem with that?"

"No! No, of course not!" Vincent's recovery was almost instantaneous. "I always knew it! My son, bonded to royalty! Isolde, didn't I always say Kael would do great things?"

Isolde latched onto the shift like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline, her smile returning bright enough to hurt. "Absolutely! Kael has always been so accomplished, so dedicated—not like some children who only know how to ride on their family's coattails—"

I felt rather than saw Kael's jaw tighten, felt the bitter irony flowing through the bond.

"And his military record!" Vincent was warming to his theme now, pacing back and forth with the energy of a man who'd just discovered a goldmine in his backyard. "The 'Winter's Butcher'—such a fearsome reputation! The tactical innovations he pioneered in the field! Why, I was just telling someone the other day how proud we are of his achievements—"

"Were you?" I let the question hang in the air, sweet and poisonous. "Because from what I understand, Kael's never been your favorite."

The room went very, very quiet.

Vincent's smile froze. Isolde's hand flew to her throat. In the doorway, I saw the butler's eyes widen slightly before he carefully schooled his expression back to neutrality.

"Your Highness, I think there's been a misunderstanding—" Vincent started, but I cut him off.

"Has there?" I turned to Kael, whose face had gone carefully blank in that way that meant he was feeling too much to show anything. "Did I misunderstand what was happening here?"

For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, so quietly I almost didn't hear it: "No."