The Fallen Princess

Thirty Three

Smoke still curled off Callen’s bare skin, the last wisps of golden fire dissipating into the rafters as he stood in the center of the room, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. Shifting back from dragon form always left a lingering hum beneath his skin... a residual burn, a restless energy that refused to settle. He looked wild, raw, half-feral, and wholly furious.

Christian didn’t bother hiding his amusement. He opened a drawer with theatrical flourish, retrieved a neatly folded set of clothes, and tossed them straight at Callen’s face.

“I had five minutes with her,” Callen snapped, yanking the trousers on, his voice edged with a frustration that had no place to go. “Five. Before her brother dragged her off to get married.”

Christian hummed sympathetically, though his tone conveyed absolutely no sympathy.

“Well, five minutes is better than none,” he replied, leaning against the table as if they were discussing the weather and not Callen’s unraveling sanity.

“Is it?” Callen growled, dragging a hand through his hair. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m going back in a few days. Just to make sure she’s alright.” He began to pace. Slow, sharp steps that prowled the perimeter of the room. His movements were too tense, too controlled.

Christian watched him for a moment, then stepped forward and seized Callen’s arm with more force than expected. “What the hell?” Callen barked, jerking free, flames flickering briefly beneath his skin.

“Listen,” Christian said, rubbing his brow in a gesture of long-suffering patience, “you can’t fly there every other day.” “And why the hell not?” Callen demanded, eyes flashing molten gold. “She’s my wife.”

“Yes,” Christian answered, tone maddeningly calm, “I know. I was at the wedding, remember?” Callen stopped pacing long enough to glare at him, breath coming deep and shaky. Beneath the fury, Christian saw the real thing eating at him... fear. A fear so sharp it hollowed Callen from the inside out.

“Look,” Christian continued, stepping in front of him again. He placed both hands on Callen’s shoulders, forcing the man to still. “I know this is hard for you, brother. It’s hard for her too. But you appearing again and again will only make things worse. She needs space to settle.”

“Settle…” Callen repeated, voice breaking around the word. “I don’t want her to settle.” Christian squeezed his shoulders. “I know you don't. Neither does she. But this is happening. And we have to be smart about it.”

Callen’s jaw clenched so tightly the muscle jumped. “I already have people inside the estate,” Christian continued. “Reliable ones. They’ll send me updates regularly. I promise you, I will keep her and your child safe.”

Some of the tension left Callen’s posture, his shoulders dropping a fraction. “And,” Christian added carefully, “I will arrange for the two of you to meet… occasionally.”

Callen’s temper flared back like a spark to tinder. “‘Occasionally’? What does that mean? Once a season? Twice a year? What if she falls in love with him? What if she forgets me?” Christian let out a slow breath and stepped back, crossing his arms. “She won’t. Have a little faith in your wife.”

He walked to the table, poured himself a drink, and filled a second glass for Callen. Reluctantly, Callen took a seat beside him. “There is a delicate balance here,” Christian said, swirling the wine thoughtfully.

“For her sake more than yours. She needs a functional relationship with her husband if she wants stability in the next two years. But not seeing you at all? That would break her. So, be present when it's safe. But don’t pry about Lord River.

Don’t interrogate her. If she shares something, respond gently. And mostly… cherish whatever time you’re given.” Callen accepted the wine, staring at the rippling surface as though it might offer clarity... It didn’t.

He felt defeated... painfully, humiliatingly defeated. He had lost his wife to another man. Lost his future to politics. Lost the right to hold the woman he loved unless it was done in shadows and borrowed time. He would burn the world for her but she would never ask him to.

Christian took in his brother’s bleak expression, frowning slightly. “Talk to me,” he said quietly. “You’re carrying something heavy.” “This is a mess,” Callen muttered, taking a deep swallow. “All of it.”

“Love often is,” Christian said, voice oddly steeped in experience. Callen’s brows lifted. “Speaking of love… how is she? Lyssara?” Christian’s expression softened instantly. Open, vulnerable in a way, he rarely allowed himself to be seen.

“As beautiful and lively as ever,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Callen smirked. “Any children between you? You’ve been at it since you were fourteen.” Christian barked a laugh, shaking his head.

“You know I’m sterile. And that’s not... well, I hid her away at fourteen, after Father had her burned because of Juliana’s theatrics. But it wasn’t until I was sixteen that we… ‘went at it.’” He smirked at the crude phrasing.

Callen snorted. “You being sterile hasn’t ever been confirmed.” “And it never will be. But trust me... there’s enough evidence to suggest I’m about as fertile as a rock.” Christian drained his wine before continuing, voice lowering.

“Unlike you, my dear brother, I understand that chastity would lead Father straight to the woman I love, even if she’s hidden in a beautiful castle in the middle of the sea. So Lyssara and I keep an open arrangement. I once wanted to make her my queen, but her burn scars… Others wouldn’t look past them to see the woman I love.”

Callen’s anger softened. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” “You didn’t,” Christian assured. “She’s happy. We’re happy. She doesn’t need a crown or a child. Not as long as she has me.”

Christian cleared his throat, shifting to a lighter tone. “But your children, or your grandchildren, will inherit the throne after me. Something you might want to mention to your little princess someday.”

Callen shot him a glare, but Christian lifted his hands in surrender. “I will tell her,” Callen said. “Good.” Christian set his empty glass aside. “Now... down to business.” Callen inhaled sharply, bracing himself.

“Are you ready to speak with Father?” Christian asked. “The sooner you are properly married to Juliana, the sooner this ordeal ends and the sooner you can bring Zaria home.” Callen surged to his feet. “Yes. Let’s do it now. Before I change my mind.”

He strode toward the door with a determination that bordered on reckless. Christian groaned, dragging himself upright and following. his should be fun,” he muttered under his breath. And together, they left to walk straight into the lion’s den.