novelraw Chapter 319 — Ugly Feeling
Chapter 319 — Ugly Feeling
Zayden rode at the head of the procession, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed ahead. The steady rhythm of hooves against the frozen road echoed behind him as his subordinates followed in silence.
Still, whispers slipped through the crowd.
"Who was the General talking about?" one of the knights murmured. "An exiled princess?"
"You truly don’t know?" another replied quietly. "The General once had a younger sister. No one knows what crime she committed—if it was a crime at all—but she was cast out of the empire centuries ago. Perhaps two."
"Exiled?"
"Yes. And even her name is forbidden to be mentioned."
No one spoke after that.
There was a name the empire had buried beneath time.
A name scratched from records, sealed behind locked archives, erased from books and history alike.
A name no one dared to utter—not out of ignorance, but out of dread.
Princess Siera Sylvaris of Revhara. Third in line to the throne. The empire’s sole imperial princess.
Zayden’s younger sister.
The child who once clung to his sleeve. The girl he had sworn to protect—and failed. And no matter how many centuries passed, she remained an unhealed wound.
***
Rihaan remained seated before the canvas for a long while, quietly admiring his work.
It was a red amaryllis, much like the one he had seen in the garden. Yet this one had not bloomed. Its petals remained tightly closed, waiting—for warmth, for care, for time. Just like Soren.
He was admired by many, surrounded by praise and reverence, yet his actions revealed a simple truth: he had never known proper love.
Not the kind that made one fearless.
Not the kind that filled the heart with quiet certainty—the belief that one could reach the sky.
Not the kind that granted wings and taught them how to fly.
At the knock on the door, Rihaan straightened at once.
"What is it?"
"The candidates for the Imperial Crown Prince’s marriage have arrived," the servant announced. "I was instructed to inform you so that you may come and greet them."
Rihaan gave a brief nod, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand.
So the day had come.
The day he would be expected to greet Soren’s would-be husbands.
A sour taste flooded his mouth. His stomach twisted with an ache he couldn’t name, his chest tightening as if something invisible were pressing down on it.
This was torture—pure and deliberate.
"And where is he?" Rihaan muttered under his breath. "Already greeting his damned soon-to-be husbands? He should’ve come for me himself..."
It had never bothered him before. Not once. Yet now, the thought clawed at him—an irrational urge to cage Soren somewhere none of those alphas could see him, where the omega would belong to him alone.
He let out a sharp snort at the thought.
Ridiculous.
Just like him.
The audacity of wanting the very man he had once rejected. If anyone were to find out, he would surely be beaten to death—if not by others, then by his own conscience.
Rihaan descended the stairs with measured steps, each one heavier than the last. The voices reached him before the scene did—polite laughter, practiced courtesy, the hollow sound of formality.
Then he saw them.
Soren stood at the center of the hall, composed and radiant in his ceremonial attire, a faint smile resting on his lips as he greeted the two candidates.
Both were men.
Both were tall—far taller than Soren.
Their shadows swallowed him whole, looming over his smaller frame, as if either of them could devour him in a single bite. Rihaan’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling slowly at his side.
One of them leaned closer, saying something that made Soren laugh softly. The sound struck Rihaan like a blade.
Too close.
Far too close.
Did they not see it? How delicate Soren looked standing between them. How easily he could be crushed, claimed, taken.
A sharp, bitter heat spread through Rihaan’s chest.
Possessive.
An ugly feeling. Unwanted. And yet, impossible to ignore.
They were touching his hand now. Greeting him properly, they would claim. Rihaan saw it for what it was—an excuse.
His steps slowed, then stopped.
If this continued, he might truly lose control and do something he shouldn’t.
Just then, as if Soren had been waiting for him, he turned. His smile was faint—not wide. He never grinned that way around Rihaan.
"Oh, you are here," Soren said. "Come." He gestured toward the empty seat at the far end of the space. The two men had already taken the places closest to him.
Rihaan clenched his jaw and descended the last step, moving toward the vacant seat.
He greeted the two men politely, uncaring of their names or titles. None of it mattered. They hadn’t come here to steal his attention—they had come to steal Soren.
He bit down on his tongue at once, stopping the thought before it could spiral further.
The conversation resumed as if nothing had shifted.
One of the men leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth.
"Your Highness, the journey here was long, but seeing the capital with my own eyes makes it worthwhile."
Soren inclined his head politely.
"I am glad your journey here was safe."
That was all.
Just courtesy.
Just formality.
Yet Rihaan’s fingers curled against his knee.
The other candidate spoke next, laughter filling the room.
"You are even more striking in person than the portraits suggest."
Rihaan’s jaw tightened.
Soren didn’t bristle. He didn’t retreat. He simply accepted the compliment with that calm, distant smile of his—one that never revealed too much.
"You flatter me," Soren replied, his voice soft.
Too soft.
He never spoke to Rihaan in that soft tone.
Rihaan kept watching the omega’s every movement—the way Soren’s gaze lingered just a second longer than necessary, the way he listened, attentive and composed. The way he allowed them to invade his private space.
Space they didn’t deserve.
Why?
One of them laughed again, reaching for the cup beside Soren’s hand. Their fingers brushed.
Accidentally, surely.
Rihaan’s vision darkened at the edges.
Say something. Anything.
He urged himself. But his lips remained sealed. What right did he have?
He was no more than a guest now. An afterthought.
And yet, as the voices continued to overlap, Rihaan could feel it—something ugly and possessive coiling tight around his chest, whispering that if this went on any longer, restraint would no longer be enough.
The second prince of Gemha and the eleventh prince of Maiju exchanged glances every few seconds, as if silently urging one another to speak.
"What is it?" Soren asked at last, his smile unwavering.
His jaw ached, but it didn’t matter—as long as the expression pleased the two men. Alphas rarely cared about anything beyond appearances. An omega only needed to smile, greet politely, and entertain.
"Well..." the Prince of Maiju began, hesitation flickering across his face. "Why is your, uhm... former fiancé here?"
"Ah."
Rihaan let out a soft, dry laugh.
Finally.
His grin widened. At last, he had found a way to make them feel as uncomfortable as he was.
"We are good friends," Rihaan said smoothly as he rose from his seat. "Calling off an engagement doesn’t mean severing a bond, does it?"
He stepped closer to Soren and lowered himself slightly, taking the omega’s hand and pressing his lips to the back of it.
"Right?" He breathed, locking gaze with the omega.
Soren blinked, startled.
Why was Rihaan doing this?
He withdrew his hand—not too quickly, not too slowly—careful not to cause any misunderstanding, yet firm enough to draw a line.
"I apologize on his behalf," Soren said calmly. "He has a rather... poor sense of humor."
As he spoke, he rubbed the spot Rihaan had kissed, as if trying to wipe something away.
And that burned.
Rihaan’s chest tightened, heat flooding his limbs, his thoughts spiraling.
How could he do this to him? How could he act so untouched? So distant toward him?
Outrageous.
The meeting ended shortly after. The two men were quickly escorted to their bedchambers, followed by their attendants, guided by Soren’s own staff.
"What was that?" Soren’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp as a blade. He glared at the man still kneeling near his feet.
Rihaan didn’t answer. He pressed his knees against the carpet and lowered his head to rest against the omega’s thigh.
"Nothing..." he murmured, almost inaudibly.
"It surely isn’t nothing, Your Highness," Soren said, his tone restrained, though the anger simmering in his chest threatened to boil over.
How dare Rihaan—how dare he behave like this, flaunting such boldness?
If not both, then one of them was bound to become Soren’s partner.
And Rihaan... Rihaan had no right to interfere.
"Please... tell me why you are doing this. This is... outrageous," Soren sighed, gently pushing the man off his thigh.
But Rihaan didn’t budge. He stayed pressed against Soren’s skin, fingers gripping his knee like an anchor.
"You tell me—why are you doing this? Do you enjoy tormenting me this much?"
Soren let out a forced, dry laugh. "Pardon me? Why would I? I am simply trying to marry the person who suits me best."
"And me?" Rihaan’s voice was low but sharp, his gaze locking with Soren’s as he sprang to his feet, hands pressing onto the armrests of Soren’s couch.