Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 21

The heavy oak door of the inn shuts out the biting valley wind with a satisfying, solid thud. Instantly, you are wrapped in a wave of intoxicating warmth. The air is thick with the rich, mouth-watering scent of roasted venison, melted butter, and spiced ale—a staggering contrast to the frozen, sterile air of the mountain peaks.

You and Kaelen weave through the scattered tables of the dimly lit common room, finding a quiet booth tucked into a corner near the massive stone hearth.

As soon as you slide onto the bench, you pull off your stiff riding gloves with a sigh of pure relief. Your fingers are pale and stiff from the reins, and you immediately bring them to your mouth, bowing your head to blow a steady stream of hot breath into your cupped palms.

"Here," a rough voice murmur’s.

Before you can take another breath, Kaelen reaches across the scarred wooden table. His large, bare hands—already radiating that ridiculous furnace-like heat—completely envelop yours. He doesn't just hold them; he gently chafes his palms against the backs of your hands, his calloused skin friction-warming your frozen fingers back to life.

"Better?" he asks softly, his moss-green eyes locked onto yours, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as the ambient heat of the hearth reflects in your grey eyes.

"Much," you say, a genuine grin finally breaking across your face. The knot in your stomach completely dissolves, replaced by a wave of pure, cosy contentment.

You start to slide along the wooden bench, intending to move around to his side of the table where it’s warmer, but you freeze.

A barmaid swaggers up to your table, carrying a tray balances on one hip. She is the picture of rustic, tavern-born beauty—all soft curves, a scandalously low-cut bodice that puts her ample bosom on full display, and a bright, confident laugh.

"Evening, travellers," she purrs, leaning over the table just enough to give a very generous view. "Would we be looking for some hot meat, strong ale, and a room for the—"

She stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes widen, tracing the sharp jawline and messy dark hair of the man sitting opposite you. A massive, radiant grin splits across her face.

"Kaelen?!" she shrieks softly, clapping a hand to her chest. "Oh, honey, I thought that was you! I haven't seen you in what—two or three years?"

You slide right back into your original spot, the warmth instantly draining from your face. The glee you felt two seconds ago vanishes, replaced by a sudden, icy drop in your stomach.

Two or three years. Right within his timeline.

Kaelen goes entirely rigid. The easy, relaxed expression on his face completely evaporates, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated panic. His moss-green eyes dart from the barmaid to you, and his hand—which was just tenderly holding yours—vaguely twitches on the table like he's trying to figure out how to put out a sudden grease fire.

"Uh," Kaelen chokes out, his gravelly voice going up a pitch. "Maeve. Hey. Yeah. It's... been a while."

"A while? You disappeared in the middle of the night, you rogue!" Maeve chuckles, playfully swatting his broad shoulder—a gesture that makes you want to stab your butter knife into the table. She finally turns her bright eyes to you, noticing your freezing, utterly flat grey glare for the first time. "Oh! And who's your little friend here? Your sister?"

"Sister," you repeat.

It isn't a statement. It is a slow, quiet question that drops onto the table like a block of ice. Your voice is entirely devoid of warmth, and your piercing grey eyes cut over to Kaelen with a look that could easily liquefy stone.

Kaelen looks like he would rather be facing a firing squad. A cold sweat visibly breaks out on his forehead, and he lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a trapped animal.

"No!" Kaelen says, far too loudly and far too fast, his hands flying up in a frantic, desperate gesture to cut Maeve off before she can dig his grave any deeper. "No, no, no. Maeve, this is Iris. She is not my sister."

Maeve blinks, her bright smile faltering slightly as she finally reads the sudden, suffocating tension vibrating between the two of you. She looks at your flat glare, then at Kaelen’s pale, panicked face, and the pieces quickly click together in her mind.

"Oh," Maeve says, her voice dropping all of its flirtatious bounce as she takes a strategic step back from the table. "Oh, I see. Iris. Right."

She clears her throat, suddenly looking very interested in her order pad. "Well, then. Iris. My apologies. So, two platters of venison, a pitcher of ale, and... just one room, I take it?"

Kaelen doesn't even look at the barmaid; his moss-green eyes are locked onto yours, pleading, desperate, and filled with a silent scream of 'please don't kill me.' "One room," Kaelen chokes out, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the table. "Just... one room, Maeve. Thank you."

You stare down at the scarred wooden table, the sudden, violent knot in your stomach entirely obliterating any craving you had for roasted meat. You feel a sudden, overwhelming urge to just stand up, walk out, and hide under a pile of blankets in a dark room until morning.

But your body refuses to cooperate with your dramatic exit. As if on cue, your stomach lets out a loud, pathetic, and thoroughly betraying groan, reminding you that you haven't had a real meal since yesterday. To make matters worse, your throat feels like sandpaper from the biting mountain wind. You are trapped by your own basic biology.

Maeve gives a slightly awkward nod and quickly hustles away to fetch the order, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in her wake.

Kaelen sits perfectly still for a moment, looking like a man who just watched his life flash before his eyes. Slowly, tentatively, he leans across the table, his moss-green eyes wide with an agonizing mix of guilt, desperation, and sheer terror.

"Iris," he starts, his gravelly voice incredibly soft, practically begging you to look at him. "I swear to you, by the stars, I had no idea she worked here. This town is a crossroads. I stayed here once, three years ago, when I was passing through to the coast."

He reaches out across the wood, his hand hovering an inch away from yours, desperately wanting to touch you but clearly terrified you'll pull away or chop his fingers off with a butter knife.

"Please don't starve yourself because of my stupid past," he whispers fiercely, his eyes holding yours with absolute, unyielding sincerity. "Drink the cider when she brings it. Eat the food. If you want, I will take my plate and sleep out in the stables with the horses so you don't have to look at me tonight. Just... please don't be miserable because a ghost from three years ago opened her mouth."

You slide out from the wooden booth slowly, your movements deliberate and quiet. The heavy silence between you and Kaelen stretches thin, the ambient noise of the tavern fading into a low, distant hum.

Kaelen’s eyes track your every movement, his body utterly tense as he watches you stand. He looks like a man waiting for a lightning strike, his chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked breaths. He doesn't dare step in your way, but his moss-green eyes are practically shouting a desperate plea for you not to walk out the front door.

You stand there at the edge of the table for a long moment, staring down at him while your brain wages a fierce war against itself. On one hand, the stubborn, territorial monster in your head wants nothing more than to storm up the stairs, lock the bedroom door, and leave him to freeze in the stables just out of spite.

On the other hand, your stomach is practically digesting itself, your throat is parched, and the memory of how gently his large hands just warmed yours makes the thought of a cold, lonely night seem entirely unappealing.

Before you can make your final choice, Maeve reappears, holding a heavy wooden tray loaded with two steaming plates of roasted venison, a basket of thick crusty bread, and a tall pitcher of spiced ale alongside a mug of cold cider. She takes one look at you standing up, reads the absolute disaster zone of an atmosphere, and sets the tray down with lightning speed.

"Here we go, folks," Maeve mutters under her breath, tossing a heavy iron key onto the table next to the bread. "Room four. Top of the stairs, on the left. Enjoy."

Without another word, she turns on her heel and vanishes back into the kitchen, entirely keen on avoiding the blast radius.

You look at the steaming food, then at the iron key, and finally down at Kaelen, who is looking up at you with his heart entirely on his sleeve.

Instead of walking away, you step around the table, slide onto the bench right next to him, and sink your weight heavily against his side. You rest your head firmly on his broad shoulder, closing your eyes as the warmth of his leather coat seeps into your cheek.

It is a silent surrender, but more than that, it’s a quiet demand. You aren't icing him out; you're asking him to hold you through the messiness of what you're feeling.

The tension explodes out of Kaelen in a massive, ragged sigh of relief that rattles his entire chest. For a second, he doesn't move, as if terrified that any sudden gesture might scare you away. Then, his large arm comes up, wrapping securely around your waist and pulling you flush against his side. He buries his face into your wild, golden hair, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"God, Red," he rough-whispers against your crown, his hand trembling slightly where it grips your hip. "You, absolute terror. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

He keeps his arm locked tightly around you, offering his solid, unyielding heat as a shield against the rest of the tavern. With his free hand, he reaches over, grabs the mug of cold cider, and presses it gently into your hands.

"Drink," he murmurs softly, his gravelly voice thick with a profound, quiet gratitude. "And then we're going to eat every bite of this food. I'm right here, Iris. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm letting you all the way in. I promise."

The silence that follows isn’t the sharp, suffocating kind from the trail; it’s the fierce, single-minded focus of two starving travellers facing down a mountain of hot food. For the next twenty minutes, the only sounds between you are the scrape of knives on wooden platters, the tearing of thick, crusty bread, and the deeply satisfying gulps of cider and ale.

You eat until the plates are scraped entirely clean, the rich venison gravy wiped up with the last of the bread crusts.

As the final bite settles, a wave of heavy, delicious exhaustion washes over you. You let out a loud, thoroughly content sigh, slumping backward against the bench. Your eyes flutter shut, your body finally registered the fact that you are warm, full, and completely safe from the elements.

Beside you, you hear Kaelen set his ale mug down with a soft thud. The bench shifts slightly as he turns toward you. A warm, calloused hand gently finds its way to your cheek, his thumb brushing a stray strand of golden hair away from your face.

"Look at you," he rumbles, his gravelly voice low and incredibly tender, entirely stripped of the panic from earlier. "Half-asleep before we even touch the mattress."

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks softly. "Come on, Red. Let’s get you up those stairs before I have to carry you. Room four is waiting."

You blink your eyes open, your limbs feeling like lead as you push yourself up from the comfortable bench. Kaelen slides out first, tossing a few silver coins onto the table next to the empty plates before scooping up the heavy iron room key. He keeps a steadying hand on the small of your back as you both walk toward the stairs, your steps a little slow and hazy from the food and the sudden warmth.

As your foot hits the first wooden step, you look up and spot Maeve leaning against the bar. She is watching the two of you intently, her eyes tracking the way Kaelen’s arm is securely wrapped around your waist, his posture fiercely protective.

When she catches your eye, a polite, professional smile fixes onto her face—though there is a lingering, curious sharpness in her gaze.

"Goodnight," Maeve calls out, her voice carrying over the low hum of the tavern. She holds your look for a beat longer than necessary before shifting her eyes to Kaelen, offering a slow, knowing tilt of her head. "Let me know if there is anything you need."

You feel Kaelen’s grip on your waist tighten instantly. He doesn't even look back at her, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the steps ahead as he guides you upward, his jaw set.

"We have everything we need, Maeve. Goodnight," Kaelen rumbles, his gravelly voice low, final, and entirely dismissive.

He ushers you quickly around the turn of the staircase and into the dimly lit hallway of the second floor, completely shutting the tavern floor out of sight. He stops in front of the door with a carved number four, inserting the heavy iron key into the lock with a sharp, decisive click.

He pushes the door open, stepping inside to hold it for you. The room is small but clean, featuring a washbasin, a crackling hearth that has already been lit, and a massive, inviting bed piled high with thick woollen blankets.

Kaelen closes the door behind you, throwing the heavy wooden bolt into place. He lets out a long breath and turns to you, his moss-green eyes searching your face in the firelight. "You alright, Red?"

You close the small distance between you in two swift steps. Before he can even finish exhaling, your hands come up, framing his sharp jaw and burying your fingers into his dark hair. You pull him down to you and kiss him hard, a sudden, fierce surge of possessiveness breaking through all your exhaustion. It is a kiss full of deliberate intention, burning with all the words you didn't want to say out loud.

Kaelen freezes for a fraction of a second, utterly stunned by the sudden, intoxicating fury of your affection. Then, with a low, ragged growl that vibrates deep in his chest, his hands find your waist. He pulls you flush against him, lifting you slightly off your feet as he returns the kiss with an intensity that leaves you completely breathless, matching your fire with his own desperate reassurance.

When you finally break apart for air, your lips are flushed, your breath hitching as you keep his face locked between your hands. Your piercing grey eyes stare straight into his moss-green ones, leaving absolutely no room for doubt.

"I'm fine," you breathe out, your voice fierce and unwavering. "I'm the one here with you. Not her."

A slow, breathtakingly beautiful smile spreads across Kaelen's face. The last lingering trace of anxiety vanishes from his eyes, replaced by a gaze so fierce and devoted it makes your chest ache. He rests his forehead against yours, his hands sliding around to hold your back, mapping every line of your body as if anchoring himself to reality.

"Damn right you are," he whispers, his gravelly voice thick with emotion, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones. "No one else, Red. Never anyone else. You have me completely."