Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 59

Kaelen stands absolutely frozen for a beat, his hand slowly rising to touch his smarting cheek. Then, a slow, wicked, and thoroughly unhinged grin breaks across his face. The red mark on his skin only makes the dangerous, intoxicated look in his eyes brighter.

Behind us, Boulder lets out a booming, nervous laugh that breaks the tension, quickly followed by the rest of the crew erupting into cheers, whistling and pounding their boots against the deck. "By the saints, Captain! You better keep her happy, or she'll sink the whole ship!"

Kaelen ignores them entirely, his large hands coming up to lock firmly around my waist, pulling me right back against his chest with a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrates deep in his throat.

"Aye, aye, Master Apothecary," he murmurs, his eyes locked onto mine with a fierce, burning heat. He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. "Message received. Next time the sea calls, I'll make sure to tell her I'm already spoken for by a woman far more terrifying than any siren."

He looks over his shoulder, his voice instantly dropping the playfulness as he commands the deck. "Silas! Get us moving! The fog is gone, the wind is ours—bring us into the Trench!"

Before Kaelen can even finish barking his order to Silas, I snap my fingers around his massive, calloused wrist and yank him hard toward the companionway steps.

He stumbles a half-step in sheer shock, his imposing captain's posture completely breaking as I drag him down the stairs. A few of the sailors exchange wide-eyed, whistling grins, but one look from Silas sends them scrambling back to their rigging.

"You're not a captain for the next hour, you hear me?" I throw the words over my shoulder, my voice a fierce, unyielding command that leaves absolutely no room for debate.

"Iris—" he starts, a breathless, rough laugh escaping his chest, but he doesn't fight me. In fact, he lets himself be led, his long strides easily matching my furious pace as I storm down the narrow corridor.

I haul him straight into the captain's quarters, the sweltering heat of the iron brazier and the sharp, medicinal scent of the wolfsbane and camphor still hanging heavy in the air. The moment his heavy boots clear the threshold, I slam the massive oak door shut behind us with a resounding BANG, throwing the heavy iron bolt into place.

The chaotic roar of the deck, the shouting of the crew, and the crashing of the waves are instantly muffled, cut off by the thick timber.

I turn around, my back pressed against the locked door, my chest heaving beneath my damp white linen top. The gold curls pinned to my head are completely wild now, tumbling around my face, and my eyes are still blazing with the terrifying, brilliant adrenaline of nearly losing him to the deep.

Kaelen stands in the centre of the cabin, the red handprint on his jaw still visible in the dim light. He looks completely undone—his dark hair windswept, his breathing heavy, his gaze locked onto me with an intensity that could set the whole room on fire. The playful smirk is entirely gone, replaced by a raw, consuming hunger.

"An hour, Red?" he rumbles, his voice dropping into a low, dangerously deep register that vibrates right through the floorboards. He unbuckles his heavy leather weapon belt with a single fluid movement, letting his broadsword clatter carelessly onto the desk.

He steps toward me, his massive frame instantly closing the distance, trapping me between the solid oak door and the heat of his body.

"You slap me in front of my men, drag me away from the wheel, and lock me in the dark," he whispers, his moss-green eyes darkening as his large hands come up to frame my face, his thumbs wiping away the dried sweat on my cheeks. "You're a menace. And if you think an hour is going to be enough to make me forget how close I came to losing you out there... you're sorely mistaken."

"I almost lost you!" I shout, the anger finally cracking as a sharp, ragged breath tears from my throat. I slam my palms flat against his chest, right over his racing heart, needing to feel the solid, physical proof that he’s still here. "Not the other way around, Kaelen! I guess its payback... for every single time I hold that stone, what you must feel. It was terrifying."

The fury drains out of me all at once, leaving only the raw, trembling exhaustion of a woman who just looked her worst nightmare in the eye and fought it off with pure willpower. My eyes sting with sudden, hot tears that I refuse to let fall.

Kaelen’s expression softens instantly, the fierce hunger in his eyes melting into a profound, aching understanding. The realization of what I had to endure—watching him walk away, helpless to his own mind—strikes him visibly.

"Iris..." he breathes, his voice thick and rough.

He doesn't say another word. He just folds his massive arms around me, pulling me so tightly against his chest that the breath leaves my lungs. He anchors me to him, his hands burying into the wild tangle of my gold curls, pressing his face into my neck. He’s shaking—not from the cold, but from the sheer weight of my words. He knows exactly what that terror feels like. He lives it every time the celestial star burns my palms.

"I know," he whispers fiercely, his lips brushing the warm skin of my throat as he holds me like I'm the only solid thing left in the world. "I know, Red. I'm sorry. I'm right here. Look at me."

He pulls back just enough to look down into my eyes, his large hands sliding down to cup my waist, grounding me. The ship gives a heavy, rhythmic lurch as it catches the deep current, but between the door and Kaelen’s grip, the rest of the world completely disappears.

"You've got me," he promises, his moss-green eyes fierce and unblinking. "No more fog, no more songs. Just you and me."

An hour dissolves into the quiet of the cabin, taking the lingering panic, the terror, and the desperate longing with it. We tore those feelings away in the dark, replacing them with a quiet, fierce intimacy that leaves us both grounded and breathing steady once more.

I stand by the workbench, smoothing down my emerald skirt and re-pinning my wild gold curls with steady hands. The room still smells faintly of sea salt and crushed herbs, but the heavy, suffocating tension from before has completely evaporated.

I look up as Kaelen buckles his broadsword back onto his hip, the fierce, unyielding commander slowly locking back into place behind his eyes.

"Right," I say, a small, weary but resolute smile touching my lips. "Time for you to go be a captain again. And time for me to finish up these balms and elixirs. We cannot have a repeat of last night."

I reach onto the table and pick up a wooden rack holding several darkly tinted glass vials. I walk over and press them firmly into his large hand.

"Take this," I instruct, my professional apothecary voice returning. "It's a concentrated tonic of Holy Basil. Take one yourself right now, and give the rest to Silas to distribute to the men. It will help flush the residual cortisol and stress out of their systems, soothe the phantom anxiety from the siren song, and combat the exhaustion. They need their heads clear for the Trench."

Kaelen wraps his fingers around the vials, looking down at me with a warmth that completely defies his rugged, imposing armour. He takes one of the vials, pops the cork with his teeth, and downs the herbal liquid without a single complaint, tossing the empty glass onto the desk.

"Aye, Master Apothecary," he rumbles softly, leaning down to press one last, lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth. The faint red mark from my slap is gone, replaced by a healthy, vital flush. "Your word is law below deck. Don't stay down here too long, Iris. The sea air misses you already."

With a wink that tells me the captain is fully back and ready for war, he unbolts the heavy oak door and steps out into the companionway, his booming voice already rallying the crew above.

I take a deep breath, turn back to my mortar and pestle, and prepare the final defences for the Vanguard.