Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 45

I swing the heavy gear bag and the satchel onto the stable floor with a loud, deliberate thud, drawing both of their eyes to me.

"I hope you're not giving him lip for last night," I say, crossing my arms with a playful smirk, "as that was entirely my doing."

Kaelen snaps his head toward me, a sheepish look crossing his rugged features before he quickly masks it, clearing his throat. Thunder, on the other hand, lets out a loud, triumphant huff, as if perfectly aware I just came to his defence.

"I wasn't giving him lip," Kaelen mutters, though he looks entirely caught in the act. He steps back from the stallion, checking the cinches on the saddle. "I was merely negotiating terms. I told him if he keeps taking your side over mine, I'm cutting his apple rations in half."

He looks at me, the morning sun catching the high planes of his face, the lingering shadows under his eyes showing his lack of sleep, but the warmth in his moss-green gaze is unmistakable. "Are you wrapped up tight? It's going to be a cold ride through the pass."

"You cut his rations in half, I cut your kisses in half, you hear me, lad?"

The playful threat leaves my mouth before I can even think to filter it, a relic of how we used to tease each other. But the moment the words hit the crisp morning air, I freeze dead in my tracks. A sudden, icy jolt of panic spikes through my chest. Did I just cross another unwritten line? Is it too soon for that? Did I just make things worse? Terrified of seeing him stiffen or close up again, I abruptly cut myself off. I quickly yank the hood of my cloak over my head, pulling the heavy fabric forward to mask the sudden look of mortification and worry on my face.

Without waiting for his response, I hurry past him and mount Marigold. But even my mare isn't offering me any comfort this morning. Instead of her usual fond nuzzle or gentle nudge against my shoulder, she simply shifts her weight, adjusting her stance under me with a heavy, disgruntled huff at my tense presence. It's as if she can feel the nervous energy vibrating right off me.

From beneath the shadow of my hood, I glance down at Kaelen, my heart hammering against my ribs as I brace for the fallout.

Kaelen stands frozen by Thunder's flank, a leather strap still held loosely in his hand. He stares up at me, his moss-green eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated surprise. For a terrible, breathless second, the silence stretches.

Then, the corners of his mouth twitch.

A low, deep rumble of a laugh breaks from his chest—a sound so genuine and unburdened it catches me completely off guard. He tosses the strap aside and steps closer to Marigold, looking up into the shadow of my hood, his face alive with a warmth I haven't seen since before the clearing.

"That is a cruel and unusual punishment, Iris," he says, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly tease that makes my cheeks instantly burn. He reaches up, his large hand gently resting on my booted leg, anchoring me. "And entirely unconstitutional. I rescind the threat to the horse. His apples are safe, I swear it."

He searches my hidden face, his smile softening into something deeply tender, recognizing the exact moment my playful guard had dropped—and the panic that followed it. "Don't hide under there, Red. I missed that tongue of yours."

I look down at my stubborn mare, clicking my tongue as she shifts beneath me. "You cut that out, young lady," I say, leaning forward to pat her neck with my good hand, "before I threaten to cut your rations in half."

Marigold lets out another sharp, dramatic snort, but she finally settles her hooves into the dirt, tossing her head as if accepting the truce.

Kaelen lets out a soft chuckling sound from down below, his hand still resting warmly against my boot. The easy, familiar rhythm of his laughter does more to chase away the lingering chill in my chest than the morning sun ever could. The tight knot of anxiety that had been coiling in my stomach since last night finally begins to loosen, just a fraction.

"Careful, Red," Kaelen warns playfully, stepping back toward Thunder and swinging himself up into the saddle with fluid, effortless grace. "If you start rationing the animals' food, we’re going to have a full-scale mutiny on our hands before we even reach the border. And I, for one, am not fighting a war against a stallion and a mare."

He settles into his seat, gathering Thunder's reins in his large hands. The giant black horse prances for a second, eager to move, but Kaelen holds him steady. He looks across the small gap between our horses, his moss-green eyes clear and focused on me, completely stripped of the heavy shadows from the night before.

"Lead the way," he says softly, a respectful nod of his head giving me the floor. "I'm right behind you."

I nudge Marigold’s sides with my heels, expecting her to walk forward, but she doesn't budge. She plants her hooves firmly into the dirt, entirely unmoved by my command. I stare down at her ears in absolute shock.

I look over at Kaelen and his massive black stallion, throwing my hands up in disbelief. "Can you believe this?" I ask, exasperated but unable to hide the amused twitch of my lips. "One ride with you, and Marigold refuses to acknowledge me! She’s completely turned against her own rider."

Thunder tosses his head proudly, letting out a soft, low whinny that sounds entirely too smug, as if he’s taking full credit for corrupting my usually loyal mare.

Kaelen sits back in his saddle, a broad, unrestricted grin breaking across his rugged face. He looks between me and my stubborn horse, shaking his head.

"Don't look at me, Red," Kaelen says, his moss-green eyes dancing with genuine amusement. "I told you, they formed an alliance last night while we were asleep. He’s obviously been filling her head with grand ideas about rebellion. You might have to negotiate with her—or at least promise her a few of those apples we were just talking about."

"Will apples do the trick?" I ask her, leaning over her neck to look her dead in the eye.

Marigold gives her head a sharp, dramatic shake, huffing a cloud of condensation into the crisp morning air as if to say absolutely not.

"No? Alright then," I huff, crossing my arms and looking over at Kaelen’s mount. "Or perhaps I will ride Thunder today, and you can have the big, heavy man sitting on him? What do you think of that?"

Before Kaelen can even open his mouth to protest, I call out to the giant stallion. "Thunder, would you prefer to ride with me today?"

The black stallion doesn't hesitate for a single second. He lets out a loud, excited grunt, his ears pinning forward in pure delight as he executes two cheerful, bouncy little bucks in place. He tosses his thick mane, practically preening at the invitation, completely ready to dump his lifelong companion into the dirt for a chance to carry me instead.

"Hey! Traitor," Kaelen snaps, though his voice is choked with laughter as he fights to keep the eager stallion under control. He tightly reins in the dancing horse, leaning forward to slap Thunder's muscular neck. "Where is the loyalty? I've fed you, groomed you, and led you through three wars, and you abandon me for a pretty face the second she asks?"

He looks over at me, his eyes bright and full of a lighthearted warmth that completely obliterates the ghosts of yesterday. "You're a dangerous woman, Iris. You've corrupted my horse, and clearly, your mare is on strike until she gets equal rights. If you steal Thunder, I'm walking."

At first, a genuine laugh bubbles up in my throat at his reaction, the familiar, playful humour finally making me feel like we're on solid ground. But then, the final line leaves his mouth.

"I'm walking."

A sudden, violent chill shoots straight down my spine. The words seem to echo in the quiet morning air, and my mind—still raw, bruised, and deeply insecure from the isolating silence of the night before—completely misinterprets it. He's walking. He's leaving. If things get too hard, if I press too much, he'll just walk away. The laughter dies instantly in my throat. The light-hearted warmth drains from my face, and my entire demeanour shifts, hardening in a split second. The walls I had just started to lower slam shut with a heavy, protective thud.

"Right, Marigold. Enough nonsense. Let's go," I say, my voice dropping into a sharp, flat command that cuts through the lingering amusement like winter frost.

The sheer steel in my tone catches my mare completely off guard. Sensing that the play-time is officially over and that her rider is dead serious, Marigold snaps to attention. She stops her stubborn posturing, digs her hooves into the dirt, and immediately breaks into a swift, purposeful walk, leading us right out of the clearing and away from the stables.

Behind me, the sudden silence from Kaelen is palpable. I don't look back to see the smile fade from his face, or the confusion that must be crossing his features at how fast the weather just changed between us. I keep my eyes glued straight ahead on the trail, my jaw clenched, clutching the reins tightly with my good hand as the forest swallows us up.

The rhythmic thud of Marigold’s hooves against the dirt path is the only sound filling the space between us for a long, agonizing mile. The crisp morning air bites at my cheeks, but the heat of my own sudden panic feels suffocating. Kaelen rides a respectful distance behind me, the heavy silence of the forest pressing in on us.

Unable to bear the weight of my own tension any longer, I lean forward, lowering my upper body against Marigold’s powerful neck. I bury my face slightly into her coarse, dark mane, the earthy scent of her a grounding comfort.

"I'm sorry," I whisper softly, my voice meant only for her ears as my hand gently strokes her shoulder. "I'm sorry for my stern tone. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You didn't do anything wrong."

Marigold flickers one ear back toward me, her pace softening just a fraction, as if she's listening to the confession.

"But we needed to go," I murmur, my chest tightening as the truth of my own fear threatens to spill over. I squeeze my eyes shut against the glare of the morning sun filtering through the canopy. "I... I needed to go."

Saying it out loud doesn't make the heavy knot in my stomach disappear. I was running from a ghost, fleeing a harmless joke because my heart is still so bruised from last night that it can't tell the difference between a playful tease and a threat of abandonment. I straighten up slowly in the saddle, gripping the reins with a little less force, but I still can't bring myself to turn around and look at the man riding behind me.

The realization hits me like a physical blow, making my breath hitch in my throat.

How am i going to do this? The weight of our actual mission slams back into focus, heavy and terrifying. I look down at my bandaged hand, then out at the looming, ancient tree line ahead.

How am I supposed to go into the stone if I feel miles apart from him? He is supposed to be my anchor. In every plan we made, in every dark scenario I imagined, Kaelen was the gravity that was supposed to keep me from drifting away into the magic. He was the one person I trusted blindly to pull me back from the brink. But right now, the space between our horses feels like a yawning chasm. If I can't even handle a harmless joke without my soul going into lockdown, how am I supposed to trust him to hold the line when the magic starts tearing at my mind?

Dammit. A hot, frustrated tear stings the corner of my eye, and I angrily blink it away, staring fixedly at the trail ahead. I'm furious at myself for being this fragile, and terrified of what happens if the anchor fails.

I bring Marigold to a sudden, dead stop on the trail, the dirt kicking up around her hooves. Before Kaelen can even ask what, I'm doing, I throw my leg over the saddle and dismount, hitting the ground hard.

"Stay, girl," I command sharply, not looking back as I turn on my heel and storm directly off the path, marching straight into the thick line of trees.

The frustration inside my chest is a living thing, clawing at my throat, suffocating me. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My mind flashes back to years ago, before I learned to mask everything, back when I used to let my rage out in a less than ladylike way. I need that release now. I need to break something before I break myself.

Deep in the woods, away from the trail, I spot a heavy, weather-worn fallen branch. I grab it with both hands, completely ignoring the sharp fire that shoots through my bandaged, burned palm as the rough bark digs into the injury. I don't care. The physical pain is nothing compared to the agony inside my head.

With a raw, guttural cry, I launch the branch with all my might against a massive, rotting tree stump.

Crack. I swing it again. And again. And again.

I hit and hit and hit, the impact jarring up my arms and shaking my teeth. My chest heaves, my breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. When the branch finally splinters and snaps into useless pieces, I don't stop. I kick the stump, throwing my weight into it, hitting it, screaming out all the unspoken fear, the vulnerability, the terrifying distance of the last twelve hours. I hit it with my bare, uninjured fist, completely out of my head, lost in a blind, desperate blur of pure fury and exhaustion.

I stand there, frozen, the forest suddenly dropping into a terrifyingly quiet stillness around me. My chest heaves violently, pushing out large clouds of hot, ragged breath that bloom and vanish in the crisp morning air. My knuckles are raw, my burned hand is throbbing with a fierce, blinding heat, and my hair has fallen completely out of its pins, sticking to my damp face.

I didn't hear his footsteps over the sound of my own screaming mind, but I know he's there. I can feel the sheer mass of him, the heavy, grounding presence that always alters the air in a room. He is standing not far behind me, a silent witness to my ruin.

"Don't judge," I squeeze out, my voice raw, cracking on the words. I don't turn around to look at him. I can't. I'm too ashamed of the mess I've become, too terrified to see the pity or confusion in his eyes.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and thick, punctuated only by my trembling breaths. Then, I hear the crunch of dry leaves as he takes a slow, deliberate step closer.

"I'm not judging, Red," Kaelen says, his voice incredibly quiet, completely devoid of the playful tease from earlier or the icy walls from last night. It's just rough, steady, and achingly close. "I'm just waiting to see if you're done with the stump, or if I need to find you a bigger branch."

I let out a heavy, trembling breath, the last of the adrenaline draining from my body and leaving me hollow.

"I'm done," I say, my voice barely a whisper. I drop my chin, finally turning around to walk back to the horses and bury all of this under a mask of composure.

But I don't even make it a step.

Kaelen moves with that silent, sudden speed of his, blocking my path back to the trail. Before I can protest or pull away, his large, warm hand hooks firmly around my waist. The heat of his palm burns right through the fabric of my tunic, a solid, unyielding anchor that brings me to an immediate halt.

"Iris, stop," he murmurs. His voice isn't angry or demanding; it's thick with a quiet desperation.

He doesn't pull me flush against him, respecting the rigid tension still holding my spine straight, but his grip doesn't loosen either. His other hand reaches up, his thumb gently brushing a stray, sweat-dampened lock of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering against my jawline. His moss-green eyes search mine, dark with a painful intensity as he looks at my flushed face, my ragged breathing, and the trembling of my shoulders.

"Look at me," he whispers, leaning down slightly so I can't look away from him. "Talk to me. You've been running since the sun came up, and I am right here. Tell me what I did."

The dam finally breaks, and the words pour out of me in a desperate, trembling rush, my voice cracking under the weight of it all.

"It's not what you did—well, kind of what you did—but it's also me! I don't know where I stand. I don't feel like myself. I'm second-guessing every single word that comes out of my mouth."

I look up at him, my eyes burning with raw, hot tears that I can no longer hold back. The hand on my waist feels like the only thing keeping me upright, but the distance between us still feels insurmountable.

"You shut me out last night," I say, the accusation heavy and painful in the quiet woods. "And I know you apologized and you explained, but you really shut me out, Kaelen. And you only realized it when you noticed I wasn't even there anymore. You always say to me, 'Red, I'm here, please don't shut me out,' but last night you were a ghost. A frozen statue. And now I'm standing here thinking that the next words out of my mouth are going to do that exact same thing to you again."

My breath hitches, a sob catching in my throat as I finally confess the terrifying truth that has been suffocating me since we left the cabin.

"You're supposed to anchor me," I whisper, my voice breaking completely as I look into his moss-green eyes. "But I feel a thousand miles away. How am I supposed to go into the stone like this?"

"I've shared my deepest, darkest secrets with you," I choke out, the words tearing from my throat as the tears finally spill over my cheeks. "I've opened myself completely bare. I've never done that before. It took a hell of a lot of courage to do that, might I add, but I did it. Because I trust you."

I press my uninjured fist against his chest, not to push him away, but just to feel the solid reality of him through my spiralling panic.

"You told me I wouldn't scare you away. You swore to me that nothing about me could ever make you leave. But turns out, all I had to do was ask you a single question about your past for you to completely shut me out."

I take a ragged, burning breath, my shoulders shaking violently under his hands. "So there. That's what I'm feeling. That's why I just bare-knuckled a tree trunk—because my own broken head is screaming so loud that I needed to physically let it all out. Words seem to be scarier than blood nowadays."