Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 46

My voice drops to a hollow, exhausted whisper as I look down at my hands. The white bandages on my palm are stained with dirt and a slow seep of fresh crimson, and the knuckles of my other hand are scraped raw and bleeding, stinging fiercely in the biting morning air.

Kaelen flinches as if I’ve struck him. The colour drains completely from his face, leaving him dangerously pale beneath his tan. His moss-green eyes stare down at my ruined hands, a look of profound, agonizing horror washing over his features. The grip on my waist doesn't loosen; instead, his fingers tremble, and his other hand flies to the back of my neck, burying itself in my hair to pull my forehead firmly against his collarbone.

"Iris..." he chokes out, his voice breaking, sounding more fractured than I have ever heard it. He holds me tight, his massive frame shuddering against mine as he absorbs the sheer weight of what his silence did to me. "Oh gods, Red... look at what I've done to you."

"It's nothing," I mutter, my voice suddenly small and hollow.

I pull my hands back, trying to tuck them against my chest, and forcefully twist my face away from his collarbone to avoid eye contact. The hot flush of shame burns worse than the scraped skin.

But Kaelen doesn’t let me hide. His hand moves from the back of my neck down to my wrist, his grip gentle but unyielding as he carefully lifts my raw hand into the light filtering through the canopy.

He freezes.

The forest around us seems to drop into absolute, breathless silence. He’s never looked this closely before—never had a reason to. But right there, bleeding and weeping next to the fresh scrapes of raw, angry flesh, is a pattern of faint, silvery lines. Old scarring. Recurring scarring. A map of past explosions, drawn in quiet corners where no one could see.

This is not the first time I've done this.

A sharp, ragged breath hitches in Kaelen's throat. His thumb hovers just a millimetre above the old scars, trembling so violently he can barely hold my hand steady. The realization hits him like a physical blow to the chest, turning his moss-green eyes wide and dark with a terrifying mix of grief and understanding.

"Iris..." his voice is a broken, horrified whisper, completely stripped of the fierce warrior he usually is. He looks up from my knuckles, his eyes searching my guarded face with an ache so profound it makes my chest hurt. "How long? How long have you been carrying a fire this hot all by yourself?"

I look at him, my jaw clenching so tight the muscles ache, but I don't answer. I swallow the truth down, burying it deep where it belongs, refusing to give him a number of years or a list of names. I pull my gaze away, staring fixedly at a patch of moss on a nearby tree trunk, my breath still shuddering in my chest.

The silence between us stretches, heavy and agonizing, but Kaelen doesn't press for the words I'm withholding.

He brings my raw, bleeding hand closer to his face. For a second, I think he’s just going to examine the damage, but then I feel the soft, incredibly gentle brush of his lips against the scraped skin of my knuckles.

"I am so sorry," he whispers against my hand, his voice thick and shattered. He presses another reverent, aching kiss to the old scars, his forehead coming to rest against my fingers as he kneels before me. "I swear to you, Iris... I am right here. I'm not a ghost anymore. I am right here."

"It's not just your fault," I say, the heavy rush of adrenaline fading, leaving a cold, hollow wave of guilt in its wake. Watching him on his knees, completely shattered by my outburst, makes my throat tighten.

A sharp, hoarse laugh escapes my lips, sounding dry and entirely devoid of mirth. "I'm broken. And you don't deserve this."

I pull my hands gently from his grasp, flexing my sore knuckles. The pain is grounding now, a dull ache rather than a blinding roar. "Come, let's go. We need to make it to another town before nightfall so that I can get into a memory and perhaps find a direction for us to head in."

I take his large, calloused hand in mine and press a soft, lingering kiss to the back of it—a quiet peace offering to let him know the storm has passed, and that I'm back in my right mind.

Kaelen stays still for a beat, his moss-green eyes locked onto mine, searching for any lingering traces of the fire that just consumed me. He doesn't say anything right away, but the look in his eyes is fierce, unyielding, and completely present. He isn't a ghost anymore.

"We'll find a town," he says softly, his voice still rough but steady as he falls into step beside me, his hand hovering protectively near my lower back as we walk back toward the trail and the waiting horses. "But when we get there, I'm cleaning those hands myself, Iris. No arguments."

The words leave my mouth with a soft, deliberate warmth, a desperate attempt to break the suffocating gravity of the last few minutes. I look up at him through my eyelashes, forcing a small, teasing smile to play at the corners of my lips.

"When we get there, Kaelen, you can clean any part of me you please."

Kaelen freezes mid-step, his boot hovering over a patch of dry leaves before he plants it firmly down. The sheer boldness of the remark catches him completely off guard. For a second, the heavy, agonizing worry etched so deeply into his face cracks, replaced by a sudden, stunned blink.

Then, a dark, rich flush creeps up his neck, colouring his jawline as his moss-green eyes darken with a completely different kind of intensity. He looks down at me, his gaze sweeping over my face, taking in the deliberate challenge in my eyes, before a slow, crooked smile finally tugs at his lips. The shadows that had been suffocating him seem to lift, replaced by that familiar, grounding heat.

"Is that a promise, Red?" he asks, his voice dropping an octave, turning low, rough, and thoroughly dangerous. He steps closer, his shoulder brushing mine as we reach the edge of the trail where the horses are waiting. "Because you shouldn't make threats you aren't prepared to keep. Especially not to a man who has been starving for you."

He catches Marigold’s reins, holding her steady, but his eyes never leave mine. The heavy, broken silence is entirely gone, replaced by a tense, crackling awareness that makes my pulse flutter for a completely different reason.

"Up you get," he murmurs, offering me a hand to mount, his touch lingering just a second too long against my hip. "Let's find that town."

Once he is mounted and settled into Thunder’s saddle, the great black beast stepping impatiently beneath him, I catch Kaelen’s eye across the small space between our horses.

"It's a promise," I say, holding his gaze with a firm, unblinking nod, letting the words settle into the space between us like a contract.

I gather Marigold's reins with my good hand, adjusting my seat as she huffs one last time, finally fully cooperative now that my own internal storm has cleared. "I think it's best you lead the way," I add, gesturing to the dense, winding trail ahead of us. "I'm not so familiar with these paths."

Kaelen looks at me, his moss-green eyes locked onto mine for a long, quiet beat. The ghost of that dangerous, crooked smile still lingers on his lips, but beneath it is a steady, reassuring gravity. He nods once, a silent acceptance of both the lead and the promise.

"Stay close," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

With a slight nudge of his heels, he guides Thunder to the front, his broad shoulders cutting a clear path through the overhanging branches. As Marigold falls into step directly behind them, the rhythmic, steady pace of the horses fills the silence—but this time, the distance doesn't feel like a chasm. It feels like a trail we're breaking together.