The Fallen Princess

Eleven

Warm light spilled through the window. Soft, golden, almost syrup-thick as it painted long beams across the wooden floorboards. It crept along the edge of the bed and warmed Zaria’s cheek, stirring her from the depths of sleep.

For a long moment she lay still. She did not recognize the scent of the room. It didn’t carry the musk of tents or the stale smell of soldiers’ gear. Instead, she smelled soap. Fresh linens. Cooked oats.

Too warm. Too safe. Wrong. Zaria’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked blearily at the unfamiliar ceiling... the beams of polished cedar, the pale plaster walls, the patterned curtains that fluttered in the morning breeze.

“Was that all a dream?” she whispered, staring toward the window in a fog of confusion. “Welcome back to the land of the living, little elf.” Her heart jolted. She jerked toward the voice.

Prince Callen sat in a chair beside her bed, one leg crossed over the other, a stack of papers in his hand. He watched her over the edge of the page with the calm irritation of a man who’d been stuck waiting far longer than he preferred.

And yet… beneath the boredom in his eyes was something that looked suspiciously like worry. “Where are we?” she rasped, pushing herself upright. Her muscles trembled with the effort. Her voice sounded thin, weak as though it had been unused for days.

“We’re at an inn,” he answered without looking up from his documents. “But where?” she pressed. He lowered his papers just enough to glare at her over the top of them. “Would you even know where we are if I told you?” he asked dryly. “Could you point this place out on a map if I held one in front of you and recited the name?”

Zaria looked away, biting down on the hurt before it showed. Normally she would have snapped back, thrown an insult over his shoulder, or quipped something venomously charming. But she was drained. Hollowed out. And he was clearly frayed from travel and sleepless nights.

A heavy silence filled the room. Callen eventually exhaled... a long, tired breath, and returned to his papers. His irritation, sharp a moment ago, softened around the edges. “Orilon,” he muttered at last, as if the word itself annoyed him. “Just outside the Forest of Kra.”

Zaria lifted her eyes and he froze. She was crying. Silently. Tears slipping down her cheeks as though her face had simply given up holding them in. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said immediately. He tossed the papers aside as he dragged a hand through his hair and leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees.

“It’s fine,” she murmured, brushing at her face uselessly. “I’m just… tired.” “You’ve been asleep for three days.” Her breath hitched. “Three days?” He nodded, gaze fixed on the floor. “Three days.”

The realization hit like a blow. It wasn’t a dream. The wolf. Anya. The blood. The voice in the darkness... She threw the blankets back and stumbled to her feet, searching wildly around the room. Her mind scrambled through fragments of memory. Only then did she notice the nightgown; clean, simple, white.

She hadn’t put it on. Panic surged. She searched for the clothing Timothy had sewn for her. “Zaria. Calm yourself,” Callen said as he rose from his chair. She froze. It was the first time he had ever spoken her name without sarcasm. Just… her name.

“Where is my brother?” she demanded, breath quickening, dread twisting deep inside her. What if Callen assumed they had tried to escape? What if Zakai had been punished? What if-

Her gaze darted to the window. Only one floor below. If I have to jump- “If you jump out that window,” Callen growled, “then so help me Gods...” “Where is Za-” “He’s at a nearby residence with your damn sister!” Callen snapped, storming toward her.

Before she could flee, his hand wrapped around her arm, not painfully, but firmly, and he pulled her against his chest. “Why are you running from me?” he demanded, trying and failing to keep his tone even.

“I don’t know,” she lied, breath unsteady. Callen angled her chin up with his fingers until she met his eyes. “Zaria? “Since when do you call me by my name?!” she burst out, her voice breaking under the weight of too many emotions.

Callen blinked, startled. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged one corner of his mouth. “Is that what upset you, little elf?” He tugged her back into his chest, gentler this time. “You already gave your permission,” he murmured. “Do you not remember the river?”

Heat shot up her neck. She shoved at his chest weakly. “Let go…” He released her at once.

Zaria nearly toppled back onto the bed. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, dizzy, sinking onto the edge of the mattress. Her limbs felt too heavy. Too soft. Too uncooperative.

Callen knelt in front of her. Up close, she saw the truth she’d missed at first glance. There were deep shadows under his eyes, the hollow look of someone who hadn’t slept properly in days.

“I’ll have food brought up,” he said quietly. “And my men brought new clothes and shoes.” He pointed to a neat stack of brown-wrapped parcels in the corner. “Why don’t you lie back down?” She shook her head stubbornly. “How is my sister? Is she…?” Her voice cracked. She couldn’t finish.

Callen’s expression softened not dramatically, but enough that the shift was unmistakable. “She is very much alive.” Zaria looked at him sharply. “She is?” He nodded. “But she can’t continue traveling. I’ve arranged care for her with a local family.”

Zaria’s breath trembled. Relief washed over her so quickly her throat tightened. She reached up, grabbed his hand, and pressed it to her forehead. “I owe you my life,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought you would leave us to die… but you came for us.”

Callen rested his palm over her head, fingers brushing through her white hair, a gesture awkward but gentle. “You are not so worthless that I would leave you,” he said softly. Her eyes stung. Then he slipped his hand beneath her chin again, lifting her face until her gaze met his fully.

“And even if I had,” he murmured, “you are not so weak that you would die.” His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek. “I should not believe in you more than you believe in yourself, Zaria.” Her breath caught.

Callen stood and stepped back, giving her space. Her eyes fell to the floor... because meeting his gaze felt impossible when her heart beat faster simply from hearing her name spoken from his lips.