Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 8

The world outside the heavy wooden door could be burning to ash, the King’s Guard could be tearing the city apart stone by stone, and your entire life could be completely upside down—but right here, in the quiet, firelit cocoon of this hidden cottage, none of it touches you.

The weight of his lips against yours, the solid heat of his chest pressing against yours, and the absolute safety of his arms wrapping around you makes everything else melt into white noise. For the first time in your life, you realize that home isn't a shop full of dried herbs, or a routine, or a safe street in the lower docks.

Home is right here. Everything feels completely, undeniably right.

Kaelen deepens the kiss for one lingering, breathless second, his hand tightening gently in your golden curls, before he slowly pulls back. He doesn't move away, though; he keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closed as both of your breaths mingle in the warm air. He is breathing heavily, his heart drumming a fierce, steady rhythm against your ribs.

"If the world ends tomorrow," he whispers, a soft, incredibly tender smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips as he opens his eyes to look at you, "I'm glad it ended with you."

He shifts slightly, pulling you fully up onto his lap and wrapping his arms securely around you, burying his face back into the crook of your neck. The roaring fire crackles merrily, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls, keeping the cold morning mist firmly at bay. You lean into him, completely letting go of the fear, the exhaustion, and the unknown future, content to just exist in this perfect, stolen moment for as long as the world will let you.

The beautiful, poetic silence of the room is instantly shattered by a long, deep, and incredibly loud GRUMBLE echoing directly from your midsection.

The sound is so profound it practically vibrates through the velvet of your robe and straight into Kaelen's chest.

For a second, everything goes completely still. Then, Kaelen's shoulders begin to shake. He buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck, trying desperately to smother his reaction, but it’s a losing battle. A rich, boisterous laugh breaks out of him, lighting up his entire face as he pulls back to look at you, his moss-green eyes dancing with absolute delight.

"Well," he chuckles, his roguish smirk returning in all its glorious, teasing splendour. "It seems the fierce, extraordinary marksman has a weakness. And here I thought you were sustained purely by starlight and dignity."

He reaches out, playfully poking your stomach right where the offending noise came from.

"Don't look at me like that, gold-locks," he laughs, holding his hands up in mock defence as a flush of embarrassment hits your cheeks. "You haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and you spent the night fighting cave snakes and running a marathon through the fog. I'd be worried if your stomach wasn't screaming at us."

He reluctantly shifts, letting you slide off his lap just enough so he can stand up. He stretches his broad shoulders, the firelight catching the confident twist of his jaw as he looks around the dark safehouse.

"Lucky for you, a good thief always keeps his pantry stocked for an emergency," Kaelen says, offering you a hand to help you up, or to simply keep you close. "Let's see what I can forage in the dark. I believe there’s some smoked ham, hard cheese, and a loaf of bread that isn't entirely like stone. Sound like a feast?"

"I think I’d eat a mammoth right now so anything sounds like a feast."

Kaelen lets out a hearty, genuine laugh, the sound filling the small room and chasing away the last lingering remnants of the morning's terror. He stands up, his movements fluid and easy, and offers you a hand to pull you to your feet.

"A mammoth? I’ll keep that in mind for our next heist," he teases, tugging you gently upward until you're standing flush against him. He keeps one arm around your waist, guiding you toward a small, rough-hewn cupboard tucked into the corner of the room. "Though, I suspect the local Magistrate would be much easier to hunt than a prehistoric beast, and frankly, he’d probably taste just as bitter."

He opens the cupboard, revealing a small cache of supplies. He begins pulling items out with the practiced efficiency of a man who has lived out of rucksacks and safehouses for years.

"Bread, cheese, and dried ham," he lists, setting them down on a small, scarred wooden table near the fire. He grabs a small knife from his belt—the same one you’ve seen him use to pick locks and slice rope—and begins carving off thick, generous slices of ham with surgical precision.

He turns back to you, his expression softening again, the playful thief giving way to the man who promised to keep you safe. He holds out a piece of cheese on the tip of his blade, offering it to you like a peace offering.

"I know it's not a feast fit for a palace, Iris," he says softly, his gaze locked on yours. "But it's warm, it's ours, and it’s a damn sight better than eating stolen rations in a damp cave. Take a seat?"

He gestures to a stool, his eyes warm and inviting.

"Tell me," he says, leaning back against the edge of the table as he continues to prepare the meal. "Now that we’ve got the hunger out of the way... what’s the story with that shard in your pocket? If the King’s Guard is turning the city upside down for it, it must be more than just a family heirloom, right?"

You swallow your mouthful of cheese and bread, the rich, savoury taste finally putting a stop to the frantic hollow feeling in your stomach. As you chew, your eyes drift away from the food and land on his face—specifically, tracing the faint, rugged line of the silver scar that cuts through his brow and runs down his cheek.

You set your bread down, leaning your chin into your hand with a playful, defiant glint in your grey eyes.

"Hmm," you say, a slow smile touching your lips. "I’ve been answering a lot of questions today. How about you tell me a bit more about yourself, mister?"

Kaelen pauses, his knife halfway through a slice of smoked ham. He looks up, his moss-green eyes blinking in surprise before a slow, self-deprecating chuckle escapes him. He wipes the blade on his trousers, sheathes it, and leans back against the heavy wooden table, crossing his arms over his chest.

"A counter-interrogation. Bold move, gold-locks," he murmurs, though the warmth in his eyes shows he isn't entirely opposed to it. He runs a hand over his jaw, his fingers brushing against the very scar you were looking at.

"Fair enough," he sighs softly, his posture relaxing as he looks into the crackling fire. "Where do you want me to start? My legendary charm? My impeccable taste in partners-in-crime? Or do you want the real story behind this?" He taps the scar on his cheek with a wry grin. "Because I promise you, it involves a very angry harbour master and a remarkably sharp fish hook."

"I would like to know everything."

You stand up from the stool, your lavender robe whispering against the stone floor as you close the short distance between you. Kaelen watches your approach, his arms uncrossing as you lean your weight comfortably against his side, your shoulder resting against his chest.

At your touch, a soft, breathy chuckle escapes him, but it quickly dies down into a quiet, contemplative silence. He wraps one long arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side as he looks back into the dancing flames of the hearth.

"Everything," he repeats softly, the word weighing heavy in the warm air. "That's a lot of ground to cover, gold-locks. Most of it isn't nearly as pretty as your stories about starlight."

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising against your shoulder.

"I didn't choose the thief's life because I liked the thrill," he begins, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register. "I chose it because when you’re an orphan in the lower docks, you either learn to take what you need, or you let the tide wash you away. My old captain—the one who set the Guard on us today—he found me when I was just a scrawny kid stealing apples from the market. He taught me how to move without a sound, how to read a lock, and how to never trust a soul."

He pauses, his fingers gently squeezing your arm.

"For a long time, I thought he was saving me. But as I got older, I realized guys like him don't save people; they just build a bigger cage. He wanted a weapon, not a partner. This scar?" Kaelen runs a finger over his cheekbone, a rueful smile touching his lips. "I lied about the fish hook. I got it two years ago when I refused to let the crew burn down a baker's shop over a missed protection payment. The captain wanted to teach me a lesson about 'softness'."

He turns his head, his moss-green eyes dropping down to look into yours, completely devoid of his usual roguish shield.

"But I never could shake that softness. Every coin I took from the merchants, I found myself slipping a portion of it into the pockets of the families living in the slums. I wanted to be Robin Hood, I guess," he murmurs with a quiet laugh. "And then... I walked into a tavern, got pinned to a wall by a very angry, very beautiful apothecary, and everything changed. For the first time in my life, I wasn't running from something. I was running toward something."

He cups your chin gently, lifting your face so you're looking right at him.

"So that's me. A thief with a bleeding heart and a bad habit of getting into trouble. Still think I have good features?"

Your whisper is so quiet it’s almost swallowed by the crackle of the hearth, but to Kaelen, it might as well be a thunderclap.

"The best."

He doesn't speak. He can't. The hardened, quick-witted thief is entirely frozen by those two short words. His moss-green eyes soften into something so deeply emotional, so intensely full of wonder, that it feels like you're looking right into his soul. For a man who has spent his entire life being called a rat, a scoundrel, a weapon, and a criminal, hearing that he is the best from you completely shatters whatever Armor he had left.

A ragged, breathless laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head slightly, as if he can't quite believe his own luck.

"You are going to completely ruin my reputation, Iris," he murmurs, his voice thick with a raw, fierce affection.

Before you can reply, he closes the small distance between you. He wraps both of his strong arms around you, lifting you slightly off your feet as he pulls you into a crushing, desperate hug. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you so tightly against his chest that you can feel the frantic, joyful hammering of his heart.

He holds you there for a long, beautiful moment, just breathing you in, letting the warmth of the fire and the safety of the cottage wrap around you both.

When he finally slides you back down so your feet touch the stone floor, he doesn't let go. He keeps his hands on your waist, his eyes locking onto yours with absolute clarity.

"I don't know what comes next, gold-locks," he whispers, his thumb tracing a slow circle against the velvet of your robe. "I don't know how we're getting out of this city, or what we're going to do about the Magistrate. But I swear to you, as long as I have breath in my lungs, no one is ever going to hurt you. We're in this together now."

“Sounds good to me, Perhaps I can teach you how to fight, seeing as I’m the one who slays the serpents.” I say grinning.

Kaelen’s jaw practically drops, his eyebrows shooting up so high they disappear into his dark bangs. For a second, he just stares at you, completely dumbfounded by your sheer, unadulterated audacity.

Then, the corners of his mouth twitch, and he lets out a dramatic, theatrical groan, tossing his head back as a roaring laugh fills the cottage.

"Oh, excuse me," he says, stepping back just an inch and putting his hands on his hips, his moss-green eyes sparkling with absolute wicked delight. "I must have completely misremembered the dark, terrifying cavern where I was the one acting as bait while a massive, venomous marsh-serpent tried to swallow me whole!"

He steps back into your space, a cocky, challenging smirk plastered across his handsome face as he leans down until your noses are almost touching.

"You got one lucky shot in with a dagger, gold-locks, and suddenly you’re the legendary dragonslayer of the lower docks?" He clucks his tongue, shaking his head in mock pity. "The ego on you. It’s terrifying, truly."

He suddenly grabs your waist and gives it a playful squeeze, his voice dropping into a low, teasing purr that vibrates against your lips. "But alright, teacher. I’m a flexible man. You show me your 'impeccable' technique, and maybe I’ll show you how to properly handle a blade without pinning a completely innocent, exceptionally charming thief to a tavern wall. Deal?"

You plant your hands firmly on your hips, thrusting your chin forward as your eyebrows climb to a haughty, utterly unimpressed peak. You don't say a single word, but the look on your face speaks absolute volumes: Are you finished?

Kaelen tries to hold his smug, challenging smirk for another second, but under the sheer, devastating weight of your judgment, his confidence begins to visibly crumble.

His smirk falters, his shoulders dropping a fraction. He looks at your hands on your hips, then back up to your fiercely sceptical grey eyes, and a sheepish, defeated laugh bubbles out of him.

"Alright, alright! Fine," he groans, throwing his hands up in unconditional surrender. "Maybe 'innocent' was a bit of a stretch. And okay, yes, technically, if you hadn't slashed that beasts belly, I’d probably be digesting in a swamp right now. I yield to the master."

He steps closer, playfully capturing both of your hands from your hips and wrapping his fingers through yours, pulling you back against his chest with a soft, affectionate chuckle.

"But I stand by the 'exceptionally charming' part," he whispers, his eyes crinkling with that warm, familiar warmth as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "You have to give me that much, gold-locks. Otherwise, why else are you keeping me around?"

Your unimpressed facade instantly cracks, dissolving into a warm, bright smile that lights up your entire face. You lean forward on your tiptoes, tilting your head up just enough to plant a soft, gentle kiss right on the very tip of his nose.

Kaelen blinks, completely startled by the sweet gesture. The cocky thief instantly melts, his eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before a remarkably soft, boyish grin spreads across his face. A faint, genuine flush colours his cheekbones, completely ruining his tough-guy reputation.

"Yeah, okay," he murmurs, his voice dropping into a breathless, happy hum. He relaxes completely, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and resting his forehead against yours, his moss-green eyes locked onto yours with absolute contentment. "I suppose that's answer enough."

He lets out a long, peaceful sigh, the playful bickering fading into a cosy, quiet warmth that matches the crackling fire beside you.

"Come on," he says softly, giving your waist a gentle nudge toward the table where the half-eaten breakfast sits. "Let's finish this food before the 'dragonslayer' starves to death. Then, we can finally take a look at that shard and figure out exactly what kind of trouble we've gotten ourselves into."