The Fallen Princess

Thirty Four

“Where are we going this time, Zakai?” Zaria asked, barely containing her excitement as she rode beside him. Her white gelding, Apollo, tossed his mane as if echoing her mood, hooves kicking up flecks of pale sand with each energetic step.

Zakai, in contrast, rode with an almost military stiffness atop his stark black mare. The same one River had gifted him shortly after they arrived on the Isles. The mare matched her rider: quiet, observant, and entirely unimpressed by Apollo’s theatrics.

Zaria shifted the quiver on her back with pride. Two months ago, it had been mostly for show. Now it was simply a part of her like the bow at her hip, like the confidence in her hands.

“River rented a house for you for two days,” Zakai said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s right on the beach. Short row to the hunting reserve, so you can try your luck with marsh rabbits.”

Zaria’s excitement evaporated. Her shoulders dropped. Even Apollo flicked an ear back at the sudden change in her mood. “What’s your problem now?” Zakai asked flatly, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I’ve already caught rabbits…” she muttered, letting out a dramatic sigh worthy of a royal actress. Zakai barked out a short laugh. “You’ve been extraordinarily moody lately. You might want to rein it in. You won’t be able to use your pregnancy as an excuse forever, my dear spoiled sister.”

“I am not spoiled,” she snapped before she could stop herself. Realizing the sharpness in her voice, she inhaled deeply and added, with forced calm, “I simply want more challenging game.”

“Like what? Snapping turtles?” he scoffed. “There are no real predators on these islands.” Zaria pursed her lips, thinking. “What if…” she began, slipping into low muttering.

“What if what, Zaria?” Zakai pushed. “It’s not a conversation if you only mutter to yourself.” She shot him a glare. “What if we attached a fishing reel to my bow? Then I could hunt sharks.”

“They’re called fishing bows,” Zakai said dryly. “You’re not nearly as clever as you think and I doubt you could catch a shark with one.” “I bet I could,” she said with regal confidence. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?” he said, laughing as they crested a sandy rise.

Below them, nestled between palm trees and low brush, a quaint two-story yellow beach house came into view. Its white trim was faded and peeling from years of sun and salt.

Red flowers spilled from hanging baskets beneath the windows, vibrant even in the harsh island light. Behind the house, the rhythmic crash of waves echoed.

“Well, this is nice,” Zaria said as she slid gracefully from Apollo’s back. “It comes with an added surprise,” Zakai said, swinging down from his horse. Zaria unbuckled Apollo’s bridle and gave the gelding a gentle pat. He lowered his head, nuzzling her shoulder affectionately, content to stay near.

Sand crunched beneath her boots as she approached the front door, fingers brushing over the weathered wood and tarnished bronze handle. The house looked old, worn by sea winds, but charming.

She reached for the knob. But the door opened first. A tall figure filled the doorway... broad shoulders, familiar presence, unmistakable golden eyes that widened the moment they landed on her.

“Callen…” His name left her as a whispered breath, all the air in her lungs collapsing inward as her heart surged painfully against her ribs. “I’ve missed you, my wife,” he said quietly. The words shattered the last of her restraint.

Zaria ran forward, practically throwing herself into his arms. Callen caught her easily, arms closing around her with fierce, aching strength. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him Leather, Steel and the faint trace of smoke. Tears welled instantly and spilled down her cheeks.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered, voice breaking. Callen pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering there as though memorizing her warmth. Over her shoulder, he caught Zakai’s gaze.

The elf knight gave him a curt, respectful nod. Callen returned it, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude... for trusting him, for bringing her, for letting him have this moment.

“What’s this?” Callen murmured after a moment, fingers brushing the quiver on her back. Zaria sniffed and pulled away just enough to look at him. “I’ve been practicing with a bow,” she said proudly.

Before he could say anything else, she seized his hand and tugged him outside again. “Here,” she said eagerly, pulling him toward Apollo. She unhooked the bow and thrust it toward him like an offering. “Look!”

Callen took the bow, turning it in his hands. “It’s… a beautifully constructed bow,” he said reluctantly. He already knew who had gifted it to her. But it mattered to her, and that was enough for him to swallow the bitter taste rising in his throat.

“I forgot to take his saddle off,” she muttered, fumbling with the girth strap. Her hands shook with adrenaline and emotion. Zakai stepped in, gently placing a hand over hers. “I’ve got it,” he murmured. She smiled gratefully. “Thank you, brother.”

Callen reached for her hand again, thumb stroking her knuckles. “Come inside,” he murmured. They stepped into the warm, dim interior. Zaria set the bow and quiver carefully on the nearest table.

Before she could turn back, Callen pressed her lightly but insistently against the wall. His movements were deliberate. Hungry but cautious, mindful of the small life she carried.

“You are so beautiful, Zaria,” he said, voice low and rough with emotion. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes squeezing shut for a heartbeat as he tried to steady himself.

Zaria melted into him, her smile curving against his mouth. His touch felt like home... like breath, like something she had been starving for. “I love you,” she whispered, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. “And I love you,” he rasped before his mouth claimed hers again.

The kiss deepened quickly. Her fingers buried themselves in his hair. His hands traced her hips, pulling her flush against him in a single, needy motion. “Haa” she gasped softly when he broke the kiss to breathe. The sound went straight through him.

He dipped his hands beneath her shirt, palms warm against her bare skin and froze. “Did you borrow clothes from your brother again?” he asked thoughtlessly. She silenced him with another kiss, desperate to stay in this moment.

But when he finally looked, really looked, he noticed the telltale tailoring. Perfect fit. Fine stitching. It was River. Callen’s jaw tightened as he rested his forehead against hers. Of course River had given her clothing suited to her. Of course Callen hadn’t. The sting of it pulsed quietly beneath his ribs.

“What is it?” Zaria whispered, brushing her fingers along his cheek. She felt the shift in him immediately. “It’s nothing,” he lied. She didn’t push but the hurt flickered faintly in her eyes. “Come with me.” She gave him a small, mischievous smirk and laced their fingers together.

She led him up the narrow stairs to the nearest bedroom. Before she even had the door pushed closed behind them, Callen bent his head to her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. One of his hands slid under her shirt to cup her breast, the other slipping past the waistband of her pants in a teasing caress.

She gasped, back arching, the sound half-laugh, half-whimper. He growled low against her skin, a sound that vibrated straight through her. Pressing her between the door and his body, he let her feel the full length of his desire, and her knees weakened.

“Callen…” He growled softly against her skin, pressing against her harder, desire boiling over- then he jerked back. “Shit...” The absence of him was brutal. Zaria’s hand flew out to the door to steady herself, her mind scrambling to make sense of the sudden distance.

The first thought that struck her cut deep. He doesn’t want me… not like this. Not after… “It’s not as if I wanted this,” she blurted, shame cracking her voice. “I didn’t choose-” Callen caught her wrist before she could turn the knob. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” she whispered, still facing away. “Why would you leave?” His voice cracked on the words. That, more than anything, made her turn. He had braced his arms on either side of her, caging her gently. His golden eyes were wide, panicked, desperate.

“I… don’t want to hurt our baby,” he said finally. “I forgot for a moment. I’m sorry.” Zaria let out a sob of relief, sinking down until she half-sat against the door. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she confessed, tears spilling.

Callen dropped to his knees. His hands hovered, then gently cupped her cheeks, thumb brushing away the tears. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t want you?” “I’ve… slept with him,” she whispered. “More than once.”

“I know,” Callen said softly. “It doesn’t matter to me.” He gathered her into his lap, one arm cradling her back, the other hand settling protectively over her stomach. Christian’s advice echoed in his mind.

“The only thing that matters,” he whispered, “is this moment. You and me. Together. I just forgot to be gentle.” He lifted her chin with a single finger. “You will never lose my love. There is nothing you can do to push me away.”

Zaria sniffled, then gave him a tiny smile. “You don’t have to be that gentle,” she whispered. His laugh was soft, relieved, warm. “Alright. But you have to promise to tell me if I’m too rough.” She nodded.

Callen leaned in again, claiming her mouth with a kiss that was tender and hungry all at once. Picking up exactly where they left off, this time with care, but without holding back the depth of everything he felt for her.