Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 44

The morning light floods in through the windows, bright and unforgiving. My sleep was restless, a far cry from the deep, comforting slumber that usually engulfs me when I'm wrapped in his arms, leaving me rested and ready to face the day. Instead, I feel heavy, the emotional exhaustion of the night before still clinging to my bones.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, I slide out from under his heavy embrace and sway my legs over the side of the bed. The cold stone floor bites at the soles of my feet, a sharp shock to my system. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to tear away the lingering sleeplessness that hangs like a thick fog over them.

Standing up, I walk over to the pitcher on the counter. My hand—still wrapped in the linen bandage, the dull ache of the burn a physical reminder of last night's distraction—clumsily pours a glass of water. I drink it down in long, greedy swallows, hoping the crisp coolness traveling down my throat will finally wake me up.

Glass still in hand, I step toward the small, ivy-traced window. Outside, the garden is waking up, dew glistening on the leaves under the early sun, looking peaceful and untouched by the storm that brewed inside these walls. I stare out at the gravel path where Thunder and I walked, thinking back to the icy distance, the silence, and the sudden fear of my own voice.

A small, involuntary shudder passes over my shoulders, and I wrap my arms tightly around my chest to stop it. The physical danger of our world I can handle, but this new emotional fragility—the feeling that one wrong word could fracture us—is a coldness that even the morning sun can't seem to chase away.

Behind me, the mattress shifts with a low, heavy groan of wood. Kaelen’s eyes open, blinking against the harsh morning light that now cuts across the room. He blinks, his arm instinctively sweeping across the empty space beside him. Finding it cold, his head snaps up, and his moss-green eyes immediately scan the cabin until they lock onto me, standing by the small, ivy-traced window, frozen deep in thought.

For a long moment, he doesn't say anything. He just lies there, propped up on one elbow, his silver-scarred chest rising and falling with a heavy breath. The raw panic from last night has settled into a quiet, intense watchfulness. He looks at my rigid posture, at the tight way I’m holding myself, and down to the white linen bandage still wrapped around my palm.

He clears his throat, the sound rough and gravelly from sleep, cutting through the quiet morning air.

"Red," he calls out softly, his voice hesitant, as if he's terrified that if he speaks too loudly, he’ll drive me right back out to the stables. "You're freezing. Come back to the heat."

I turn away from the window, offering him a weak, tired smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. Setting the remaining water down onto the wooden table with a soft clink, I pad across the cold stone floor and climb back into the bed.

The moment I slide beneath the blankets, the contrast is stark; the sheets are still radiating his intense, solid heat. I pull the covers up, but I don't immediately sink into his chest the way I used to. Instead, I lie there, a quiet, cautious space remaining between us.

Kaelen doesn't hesitate. He immediately shifts his massive frame, closing the gap I left. He doesn't push for answers, and he doesn't bring up the ghosts of last night. With agonizing care for my wrapped hand, he drapes his large, heavy arm over my waist and pulls me flush against his side, burying his face into the crook of my neck. He lets out a long, shuddering breath, holding onto me as if he's still trying to convince himself that I didn't slip away into the dark.

I close my eyes, listening to the steady, familiar thud of his heart. The warmth is undeniable, but as I lay my head against his shoulder, the whisper of unease remains. We're back in the same bed, but the map of how to talk to each other has completely changed, and I'm still trying to find my footing.

I lay there, staring blankly at the wall, my eyes blinking against the morning light. I am hyper-aware of everything. There is no relaxation in my muscles, no drifting back into a comfortable daze; my body is coiled tight, entirely on edge.

Against my ear, I feel the steady, heavy thud of Kaelen's heartbeat, a rhythmic reminder of how close he is. Near the hearth, I hear every tiny crackle of the dying embers as they slowly turn to ash. Even the house itself seems to amplify the tension, the almost unnoticeable creaks of the old wood settling under the morning sun echoing like small gunshots in the quiet room.

I am right here in his arms, exactly where I've always felt safest, yet I've never felt more awake or more distant. Every sense is dialed up to a painful frequency, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to see if the man holding me is the one who loves me, or the one who freezes me out. Kaelen's grip is tight and protective, but the silence inside my own head is screaming.

I stir restlessly in his arms, shifting my weight and twisting under the heavy blankets, but comfort and relaxation remain completely out of reach. My skin feels prickled with a nervous energy I can't shake.

Then, cutting through the agonizingly tense silence of the cabin, a sharp, loud knock echoes against the front door.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of relief washes over me. It is a lifeline—a perfect, undeniable reason to get away from the bed and the suffocating weight of this unspoken distance.

Before Kaelen can even react or tighten his grip to keep me there, I quickly slide out from under his arm. I break away from his heat, hurry across the cold stone floor, and snatch up my trousers. I pull them on swiftly, bucking the chill, and make a direct line for the entryway without looking back. My heart beats a little faster with every step, grateful for whatever disruption is waiting on the other side of that heavy oak door.

I pull the heavy door open, and there stands Aster, a brilliant, warm smile lighting up her face. But the moment her eyes lock onto mine, that smile weakens. Her gaze sharpens, instantly picking up on the thick, invisible wall of tension radiating from me.

Without a word, she holds out a heavy leather satchel. Inside, I can hear the soft clink of glass vials and the rustle of dried herbs—the hex bags and elixirs we will need for the long journey ahead. Aster’s eyes drift past me, looking over my shoulder to where Kaelen sits on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders tense, his face a map of worry and confusion.

"Is everything okay?" she asks me softly, her voice barely a whisper.

I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat and muster up a big, bright smile. "All is well," I tell her, trying to sound convincing. "Just some pre-travel anxiety."

But Aster is too perceptive, and the empty words don't fool her for a second. Instead of pushing, she steps closer, leaning in to whisper gently in my ear. "Matters of the heart are never easy, but with time, you'll conquer all. Don't worry... I see wondrous things for you both." She pulls back slightly, her eyes shining with fierce, maternal warmth. "Please don't be a stranger. You will always have a home here, Iris. We're bound by blood."

She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a deep, comforting embrace that almost makes me want to crack wide open. When she releases me, she gives my arm a reassuring squeeze before turning and retreating back across the clearing toward her cottage.

I shut the heavy oak door, the click of the latch sounding entirely too loud. Walking over to the wooden table, I place the leather satchel down with a soft thud. I don't look at Kaelen. Instead, I walk straight to the edge of the bed, sit down, and slide my feet into my leather boots, pulling the laces tight with a quiet, deliberate focus.

"When do you think we should go?" I ask, my voice cutting through the quiet cabin.

I make a conscious effort to keep my tone light and even. It isn't flat, cold, or guarded—just a normal, practical question. I don't want to tip the scales or ignite any more tension between us; I just want to focus on the reality of the road ahead.

Kaelen stays still for a moment, the sound of my normal voice seemingly catching him off guard. He slides his legs over the side of the bed, the mattress groaning softly under his weight, and begins to pull on his own boots.

"Soon," he says quietly, his voice still thick with the gravel of sleep, but completely stripped of yesterday’s harshness. He looks over at the leather satchel Aster left on the table, then up at me. "The horses are rested, and we have the supplies. If we leave within the hour, we can clear the valley before the midday sun hits."

He stands up, tracking my movements carefully, as if still trying to gauge exactly where he stands with me. He takes a slow step toward the table, keeping his distance respectful, but his moss-green eyes remain fixed on my face. "Are you... are you ready to ride, Red? How is your hand feeling?"

I look up at him, meeting his cautious gaze, and offer him a genuine, reassuring smile. "I'm fit as a fiddle," I say, my tone easy and light.

I lean over to finish lacing my boots, pulling the leather ties tight all the way up to my calf. As I bend forward, the unlaced collar of my tunic shifts, draping open just enough to reveal a brief, intimate view inside.

I catch the sudden, fierce flush of crimson that creeps up Kaelen's neck and floods his cheeks. His moss-green eyes dart away instantly, a rare, boyish bashfulness overtaking his usual brooding demeanour.

Noticing his reaction, I quickly sit up and lace the front of my tunic, smoothing down the fabric. "Sorry," I murmur softly, not wanting to cause him any discomfort or make things more awkward than they already feel.

The blush lingers on his sharp cheekbones, but the tension in his shoulders finally visibly drops. A faint, breathless huff escapes his lips—halfway between a laugh and a sigh of pure relief. For a fleeting second, the suffocating weight of the past twenty-four hours lifts, replaced by a sudden, familiar warmth that makes the cabin feel like home again.

"Right," Kaelen clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to regain his composure. "I'll go get the horses saddled. Take your time with the gear." He turns and heads for the door, but just before he steps out into the crisp morning, he pauses, looking back over his shoulder. "And Iris? It's a good view."

I give him a genuine smile—a real one this time—watching him slip out the door. The brief moment of light-heartedness is exactly what the heavy air in this cabin needed. I quickly pull on the rest of my outer garments, adjust my cloak, and double-check that we haven't left anything behind before grabbing the heavy gear bag and Aster's leather satchel.

When I walk out into the crisp morning air and approach the stables, the sight before me makes me pause. Kaelen is standing close to Thunder, his forehead nearly pressed against the stallion's nose. He's whispering to the beast, having a long, deep, incredibly serious conversation with the horse that looked ready to commit mutiny for me last night. Thunder's ears are pinned forward, listening intently, occasionally tossing his braided mane.