Chapter 46: Between Qazaethel And Dawn

They took the man into their carriage and tied him securely while gagging him. His arms were bound behind his back with thick rope, the knots pulled tight enough to make him wince with every movement he made.

The gag was a strip of cloth that had been torn from one of the soldiers’ spare tunics, shoved into his mouth and tied around his head, muffling the curses and threats that spilled from his lips. His eyes were wild with fear and fury, darted from face to face, searching for some means of escape, some weakness he could exploit.

But there was none. The soldiers who held him were the elite of Solkanaia, trained from childhood to be relentless and efficient. They did not loosen their grips, did not falter under his struggles.

"Take him to the dungeon," Qazaethel ordered the captain, her voice was cold and commanding. "Decide whatever punishment is fit for him."

The captain bowed deeply, his fist was pressed against his chest in a gesture of obedience. He was a man who had served the Sovereign for decades, who had seen the worst of what the world had to offer, and who had learned long ago not to question orders. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, and immediately set about carrying out her commands.

He gestured to his men, and they moved to lift the bound man, carrying him toward a waiting carriage that would take him to the palace dungeons. The man struggled against his bonds, his body was twisting and writhing, but the soldiers held him firm, their grips like iron.

Qazaethel watched them go, her expression was unreadable. Inside, however, her mind was racing with thoughts she could not voice aloud. The man was a member of the Ahkya. She had recognized the tattoo on his hand the moment she had seen it, had recognized the symbol that marked him as part of the organization that had haunted her nightmares for years.

These were the men who had taken Dawn, who had tortured her, who had almost bought her from the wild beastmen. And now, they had taken Eiravelle.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails are digging into her palms. She would not rest until every last one of them was found and destroyed. She would burn their organization to the ground, would scatter their ashes to the winds, would make sure that they never harmed another omega again.

Some dark elite soldiers stayed behind, their forms fading into the shadows as they continued the search. The night was still deep, the moon high in the sky, and there was much work to be done.

Eiravelle was still out there, still missing, and every moment that passed was a moment she spent in danger. Qazaethel could feel the weight of that knowledge pressing down on her, could feel the urgency that thrummed through her veins like a second heartbeat.

"Your Majesty," Liv said, approaching Qazaethel with a report. Her voice was steady, professional, but there was a tightness around her eyes that betrayed her own exhaustion. She had been awake for over a day, had been searching without rest, had been pushing herself beyond her limits. But she would not stop, would not rest, not until Eiravelle was found.

"We have sealed the entire borders, gates, and every portal," Liv continued, her voice was carrying through the quiet street. "We made sure no one is going out and in."

Qazaethel nodded, her expression was unreadable. The net was closing, the trap was set. Whoever had taken Eiravelle would not be able to escape the city, would not be able to flee to another kingdom or hide in another realm. They were trapped, and Qazaethel would not rest until they were found and destroyed.

"Take Dawn back to the palace," Qazaethel said, her voice was firm. "This place is dangerous for her."

She had not meant for the words to carry, had not meant for Dawn to hear them. But the princess was close by, had been listening to the exchange, and her response was immediate.

"No," Dawn said, her voice was clear and steady.

Both Liv and Qazaethel caught her attention, their gazes are snapping toward her. Dawn stood tall despite her exhaustion, despite the weight of the dark elite armor that still clung to her body.

Her face was pale, her hair disheveled, but her eyes were bright with determination. There was something in her posture, something in the set of her jaw, that spoke of a resolve that would not be easily broken.

"I may become your wife, but please, don’t take away my autonomy, Your Majesty," Dawn said, her voice was calm but firm.

Qazaethel’s expression hardened, her eyes are narrowing. She had not expected this, had not anticipated that Dawn would defy her. But she should have known. Dawn had always been headstrong, had always refused to be coddled, and had always insisted on making her own choices.

It was one of the things that Qazaethel admired about her, one of the qualities that made her a worthy future consort. But it was also one of the things that made her difficult to protect.

"I am not taking your autonomy," Qazaethel replied, her voice was still cold. "I am simply protecting you."

"From what?" Dawn asked, her voice was rising slightly. "You were just like the others. You kept saying you were gonna protect me, but in reality, you all make me dependent."

She took a step forward, her hands are clenched at her sides, her body was trembling with emotion. The words were spilled from her lips before she could stop them, the frustration and pain of years bubbling to the surface.

She had been protected her whole life, had been coddled and sheltered, had been treated as though she were made of glass. And she was tired of it. Tired of being treated like a fragile doll, tired of being told what she could and could not do.

"I am not a weak omega," Dawn continued, her voice was fierce. "I am not the omega in every end of romance to wait for an alpha to help her."

The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and hurt. Qazaethel stared at her, her expression was unreadable. She had not expected this, had not anticipated that Dawn would speak to her in such a manner.

But she also understood. She understood the frustration of being constantly protected, constantly coddled, constantly treated as though she were incapable of taking care of herself. She had felt that way herself, once, long ago, when she was young and her mother had tried to control every aspect of her life.

But understanding did not make it easier. Understanding did not change the fact that Dawn was in danger, that there were people in the city who would harm her if given the chance. Understanding did not erase the memory of the last time Dawn had been taken, the last time Qazaethel had almost lost her.

"Dawn, you don’t understand," Qazaethel said, her voice was strained with the effort of maintaining her composure. "If something bad happens to you, do you think Ashrein won’t wage war on Solkanaia?!"

She took a step forward, her hands are clenched at her sides, her body was trembling with suppressed emotion. She could feel the eyes of the soldiers on her, could feel the weight of their attention, but she did not care. She was past caring about appearances, past caring about the image she projected. All she cared about was Dawn’s safety.

"Instead of an alliance forged in partnership, it became war solely because something bad happened to you right at the soil I own!"

Her voice rose despite her efforts to remain calm, the fear and frustration of the past hours finally breaking through the carefully constructed mask of composure. She was trying so hard to maintain her control, was trying so hard to be the Sovereign that everyone expected her to be.

But it was not easy. It was not easy when the people she cared about were in danger, when the omega she loved was missing, when the weight of an entire kingdom rested on her shoulders.

Liv immediately stood between the two of them, her hands are raised in a placating gesture. She could feel the tension crackling in the air, could see the way the soldiers who had gathered nearby were watching them. The last thing they needed was a public confrontation between the Sovereign and the princess.

"You guys, we’re outside," Liv pleaded, her voice was urgent. "Everyone is watching us. Please, Your Highness and Your Majesty."

Dawn and Qazaethel looked away from each other, their expressions were shifting from anger to something that looked almost like embarrassment. They had forgotten where they were, had forgotten the audience that surrounded them.

They had allowed their emotions to get the better of them, had let their personal feelings spill into the public sphere. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment that could have consequences.

Qazaethel took a breath, forcing herself to calm down. She could not afford to lose control, could not afford to let her emotions rule her actions. She was the Sovereign of Solkanaia, the most powerful ruler in the realm. She had to act like it.

"I am not trying to trap you, Dawn," Qazaethel said, her voice was quieter now. "Only if your parents are not that worried, will I allow you to do whatever you want. But no... Your parents trusted me so much, and I am not gonna almost fail them twice."

The words were heavy with meaning, heavy with the weight of the promise that Qazaethel had made to Dawn’s parents. She had sworn to protect the princess, had sworn to keep her safe. And she had failed once, had allowed Dawn to be taken by the Ahkya and beastmen, had almost lost her forever. She would not fail again. She could not fail again.

Dawn’s expression softened, her anger was fading as she saw the pain in Qazaethel’s eyes. She had not meant to hurt her, had not meant to make her feel guilty for something that was not her fault. She had simply wanted to be free, had wanted to make her own choices, had wanted to be treated as an equal rather than a fragile doll.

She approached Qazaethel and took her hands, holding them gently in her own. She looked directly into the Sovereign’s eyes, even though Qazaethel could not bring herself to meet her gaze.

"You didn’t fail them, Qaz," Dawn said, her voice turning soft. "You saved me, remember? You risked your life, and that was enough."

Qazaethel remained quiet, her gaze was fixed on some point beyond Dawn’s shoulder. She could not bring herself to look at the princess, could not bring herself to accept the forgiveness that was being offered.

The guilt was still there, gnawing at her insides, reminding her of all the ways she had fallen short. She had been too slow, too careless, too focused on her own concerns. She had almost lost Dawn, had almost allowed the Ahkya to destroy her.

Dawn squeezed her hands, her grip firm but gentle. "Look at me," she said. "Do you believe me?"

Qazaethel remained silent, her jaw was tight, and her eyes fixed on the ground. She wanted to believe, wanted to accept that she had done enough, that she had not failed. But the guilt was still there, a constant companion that whispered in her ear, reminding her of her failures.

Liv watched them, her expression was carefully neutral. But inside, she felt something ache. It was a familiar pain, a pain she had grown accustomed to over the years. It was the pain of watching someone you loved with someone else, of knowing that you would never be the one they chose.

She liked Dawn. She had liked her for a long time, had harbored feelings for the princess that she had never dared to express. She had watched Dawn from afar, had admired her strength and her beauty, and had dreamed of a future that could never be.

But she knew that Dawn belonged to Qazaethel. Their marriage was a political arrangement, a union of two kingdoms, but it was still a marriage. And Liv was just a General, just a soldier, just a friend.

She doesn’t want to admit it, but she liked Dawn for a long time. And that was something she knew she would not be able to have, for Dawn belonged to Qazaethel.

She straightened her composure and sighed, pushing the thought away like a bad dream. She could not afford to dwell on her feelings, could not afford to let her emotions interfere with her duties. She had a job to do, a mission to complete. And she would see it through, no matter the cost.

"Your Majesty," Liv said, her voice was steady despite the turmoil in her heart. "We have to move. Four more hours before dawn. We must look for Lady Eiravelle."

The reminder was like a splash of cold water, snapping Qazaethel back to the present. She nodded and sighed, her expression was shifting from conflicted to resolved. There was no time for personal feelings, no time for emotional confrontations. Eiravelle was still out there, still missing, still in danger. And Qazaethel would not rest until she was found.

"I have to find Eiravelle first," she said. "Whatever you want, it’s up to you, Dawn."

She looked at Liv, her gaze turning steady and commanding. "Please make sure she is safe, General."

It was not an order from a Sovereign to a subject. It was a request from a friend, formal but genuine. It was a request that carried with it the weight of trust and affection, the weight of a bond that had been forged over centuries of shared experiences.

"I will be honored to keep the princess safe, Your Majesty," Liv said, bowing her head.

Qazaethel nodded, then turned and walked away, her robes are billowing behind her, her steps were measured and purposeful. She had a mission, a goal, a purpose. She would find Eiravelle, would save her, would bring her home. And nothing would stand in her way.

***

The night continued, dark and cold, the city of Solkanaia was alive with activity as the search intensified. The soldiers moved through the streets, their torches are casting flickering shadows on the walls, their voices are calling out as they searched every building, every alleyway, every hidden corner.

The clatter of hooves echoed through the empty streets as horses were ridden from one location to another, carrying messages and orders. The city that had been quiet just hours before was now a hive of activity, a machine of war that had been set in motion by the Sovereign’s command.

Dawn watched Qazaethel go, her expression was thoughtful. She had not expected the Sovereign to agree, had not anticipated that she would be allowed to stay. But Qazaethel had understood, had recognized the need for autonomy, had respected Dawn’s desire to make her own choices. It was a small victory, but it was still victory nonetheless.

She turned to Liv, her eyes were meeting the General’s. "Thank you," she said, her voice was soft. Liv blinked, confused. "For what, Your Highness?"

"For standing up for me," Dawn said. "For not treating me like I was made of glass."

Liv smiled, though the smile did not quite reach her eyes. "You are not made of glass, Princess. You are stronger than you know."

Dawn smiled back, a warm, genuine smile that made Liv’s heart ache. "You are kind, General. Kinder than you let people see."

Liv looked away, unable to meet the princess’s gaze. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, could feel her heart beating faster in her chest. She had to remind herself that Dawn was not hers and would never be hers. She had to remind herself to keep her distance, to keep her feelings hidden.

"We should go," Liv said, her voice was brisk. "There is much to do."

Dawn nodded, and together they made their way through the streets, following the trail of soldiers, joining the search. The night was still deep, the moon was still high, but there was work to be done. Eiravelle was still out there, still missing, still waiting to be found.

And Liv would find her, because she had promised, and Liv always kept her promises.

***

The search continued through the night, the soldiers moving through the city with a purpose and determination that spoke of their training and their loyalty. They had been given a mission, had been entrusted with a task, and they would see it through.

Liv led the search in one part of the city, her eyes are scanning every shadow, every alleyway, every building. Dawn rode beside her, her helmet was replaced, her face was hidden once more. She had insisted on staying, had insisted on helping, and Liv had not had the heart to refuse her.

As they rode, Liv’s mind drifted to the conversation in the carriage, to the confession she had made. She had told Dawn that she liked someone, had admitted that she had never been able to move on. But she had not told her who that someone was. She had not told her that the person she liked was Dawn herself.

She wondered if Dawn had guessed. Wondered if the princess had seen through her careful facade, or had recognized the truth that Liv had been trying so hard to hide. But Dawn had not said anything, had not given any indication that she knew. And for that, Liv was grateful.

She did not want to complicate things. Did not want to make a situation that was already fraught with tension even more complicated. She would keep her feelings to herself, would bury them deep inside where no one could see. She would do her duty, would protect the princess and would serve her Sovereign.

And she would be content with that.

Or at least, she would try to be.

The night wore on, the hours are passing slowly as the search continued. The soldiers moved through the city, their torches were casting flickering shadows on the walls, their voices was calling out as they searched. They checked every building, every alleyway and every hidden corner. But there was still no sign of Eiravelle.

Liv could feel the weight of the mission pressing down on her, could feel the responsibility that rested on her shoulders. She had promised to find Eiravelle, had promised to keep her safe. But with every passing hour, the chances of finding her alive grew slimmer.

She thought of Qazaethel, of the pain in the Sovereign’s eyes when she had spoken of Eiravelle. She thought of the child growing inside the omega’s womb, the child that was Qazaethel’s heir. She thought of the future that hung in the balance, the future that depended on finding Eiravelle before it was too late.

She would not fail. She could not fail.

And so she continued the search, her determination was unwavering and her resolve was unbroken. The night was dark, the road was long, but she would see it through. She would find Eiravelle, would bring her home and she would fulfill the promise she had made.

No matter what it took. No matter the cost.