Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 51

The harsh, bright morning light cuts relentlessly through the dusty windowpane, fracturing the soft shadows of the night. Simultaneously, a chaotic din rises from the floorboards below—the heavy clatter of iron pots, the booming laughter of merchants, and the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of early travellers loading crates.

I blink heavily, my eyelids feeling like lead as the remnants of Aster's elixir leave a dull, lingering ache behind my brow. The room is no longer spinning, but my vision is still blurry, my eyes trying to make sense of the sudden brightness.

Beside me, the massive frame of the man wrapped around me stirs. A second after my eyes open, Kaelen lets out a low, gravelly groan. His muscles tense instinctively before he remembers exactly where he is, his grip on my waist tightening as he pulls me flush against his warm chest.

"Morning, dear," I mumble, my voice thick with sleep, my eyes still fighting to focus on the sharp lines of his face.

Kaelen buries his face in the pillow for one desperate, protesting second before rolling over to look at me. His hair is a wild mess, and his moss-green eyes are heavy with sleep, but a soft, lopsided smile instantly breaks through his rugged morning scruff.

"Morning, gold" he rumbles, his voice incredibly deep and raspy, vibrating straight through the mattress. He reaches up with a slow, heavy arm, his thumb gently wiping the sleep from my eye before tracing down to my cheek. "Gods, those tavern bastards don't believe in sleeping past dawn, do they?"

He blinks against the dusty light, his gaze softening as he looks down at me, checking every inch of my face to ensure the pale, hollow look from the night before is completely gone. Satisfied with the colour in my cheeks, he presses a slow, warm morning kiss to my forehead.

"How's the head, Red? Is the room staying still today?"

“Aye it is.” I say running my fingers through his dark black curls.

Kaelen’s eyebrows shoot up, a sudden, bright laugh barking out of him at my terrible impression. The deep vibration of his chest shakes the entire mattress as he rolls his eyes, a massive grin completely taking over his rugged face.

"Aye, is it?" he mimics himself, his voice dropping into a cartoonishly thick, exaggerated sailor's brogue as his moss-green eyes dance with amusement. "Blimey, lass, if ye keep talking like a true privateer of the Shattered Coast, I might have to make ye the first mate on whatever leaky tub we charter."

He catches my hand, stopping my fingers from tangling in his dark, messy curls, and brings my knuckles up to his lips to press a warm, lingering kiss against them. The playful mockery fades just a fraction, replaced by that steady, grounding warmth that always makes my heart skip a beat.

"I'll take the teasing if it means you're feeling better," he murmurs softly, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. He glances over at the discarded satchel across the room, then back to me, the light-heartedness settling into a focused, ready calm. "The fog is totally gone? You remember the name of the ship? The Johnny Bold?"

My beaming smile seems to act like a direct cure for the last lingering bits of tension in Kaelen's shoulders. As I arch my back and stretch gloriously, waking up every single muscle from the rigid terror of last night, his eyes trace the movement with a slow, warm appreciation that has nothing to do with sirens or sunken ships.

"Gods, you're a beautiful sight in the morning," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

But as my question hangs in the air, his expression shifts, the playful warmth settling into the sharp, calculating look of a man who used to command men through the worst waters of the continent. He sits up, the heavy blankets pooling around his waist, revealing the broad, scarred expanse of his back and shoulders as he runs a hand through his messy curls.

“How are we getting to the Eye of Ela’s? Do you still have connections to a ship?”

"Connections?" Kaelen lets out a low, grim chuckle. "Aye, I still have them. The problem is half of them want to buy me a drink, and the other half want to put a crossbow bolt between my eyes for deserting the King's navy."

He swings his massive legs over the side of the bed, the old floorboards groaning under his weight, and looks back at me over his shoulder with a sharp, wicked glint in his moss-green eyes.

"But we aren't looking for the King's navy for this job. Legal sailors don't navigate the Eye of Elas, and they damn sure don't carry diving bells into Trench-Weaver territory. We need smugglers, Red. The kind who know how to quiet their oars, run without lanterns, and don't ask why an apothecary and a disgraced soldier want to dive into a cursed graveyard."

He stands up, stretching his own towering frame until his knuckles nearly brush the low ceiling of the inn room.

"There's an old quartermaster I served with before I took the King's coin. A man named Silas. Last I heard, he runs a salvage yard down at the lower docks—which is just a polite word for a black-market fencing operation. If anyone knows who has a sturdy hull and a crew desperate enough to risk the deep trenches for a cut of whatever 'glittering gold' we aren't looking for... it's him."

He turns around, leaning against the wooden post of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at me. "The real question is what we use for collateral. Silas doesn't work for free, and my charming personality only goes so far. Do we have anything left in that apothecary satchel of yours that a smuggler might risk his life for?"

“Not in the satchel but what ever happened to the pouch of rubies i gave you when we first met at the tavern?”

Kaelen freezes mid-lean, his arms locking over his chest as his eyes go wide. For a second, he just stares at me, his jaw slightly open, before a slow, incredulous grin breaks through his morning scruff.

"You've got a terrifying memory, you know that?" he rumbles, a rich, delighted chuckle vibrating in his chest.

He walks over to his heavy leather rucksack resting by the door. He kneels down, unbuckling the thick straps and digging deep past his spare tunics, his whetstone, and his iron rations. After a moment of searching, his hand emerges holding a small, weathered velvet pouch, tied tight with a frayed leather cord.

He walks back over to the bed and tosses it onto the mattress. It lands with a heavy, muffled clink.

"I haven't touched a single one of them," Kaelen says, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, the wood groaning softly under his weight. He looks at the pouch, then up at me, his moss-green eyes suddenly softening with a deep, nostalgic warmth. "When you threw these at me in that tavern, I thought you were just a spoiled, desperate noble girl trying to buy a bodyguard. I figured I'd use them to buy a new horse and part ways with you in a week."

He reaches out, his large hand gently cupping my chin, his thumb smoothing over my lower lip.

"But then you turned out to be a brilliant, stubborn master apothecary with a fiery temper and a habit of dragging me into cursed memories," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, raspy purr. "I couldn't bring myself to spend them. They felt like... a reminder of the night my life actually started making sense."

He lets his hand slide down to the velvet pouch, lifting it up and placing it directly into my palm, his fingers wrapping around mine.

"Silas will lose his mind for these, Iris. A single one of these rubies can buy a smuggler’s loyalty for a month. The whole pouch? We won't just get a ship and a crew. We'll get the fastest, meanest galleon on the Shattered Coast, fitted with whatever deep-sea gear we ask for."

He leans in, pressing his forehead gently against mine, a fierce, confident spark in his eyes. "Looks like you're funding the expedition, captain. Ready to go turn a smuggler's head?"

“Aye captain”

Kaelen freezes mid-lean, his arms locking over his chest as his eyes go wide. For a second, he just stares at me, his jaw slightly open, before a slow, incredulous grin breaks through his morning scruff.

Kaelen’s grin turns absolutely lethal. Hearing the title slip past my lips with that terrible, mocking little brogue is clearly the highlight of his morning.

"Aye, captain," he repeats, mock-saluting me with two fingers from his temple before swinging himself off the bed with a newfound surge of energy. "You heard the lady. Let's get dressed and get down to the water before the midday heat turns the fish market into a swamp."

The playful morning light completely banishes the last ghosts of the memory stone as we throw on our heavy travelling gear. I strap my apothecary satchel tightly across my chest, ensuring Aster's remaining vials are secure, while Kaelen checks the heavy steel of his broadsword, sheathing it with a satisfying, metallic clack.

He stuffs the heavy velvet pouch of rubies deep into his inner coat pocket, patting it once.

"Keep your wits about you down there, Red," he murmurs, his tone shifting into that protective, sharp baseline as he opens the creaking inn door.