I said nothing, and Caelan’s sigh of resignation, the way he hung his head to stare at the ground beneath his feet – it was a spear to my heart.
“Do you remember,” he said, glancing up at me from beneath a furrowed brow, “when I told you that I’d wanted to take Brigid’s punishment? When she attacked that nobleman to protect herself?”
I nodded, throat too thick to speak.
“Well, that nobleman was, at the time, the Crowned Prince. His father, the man I pleaded with – that was the late King. And the punishment–”
He cut himself off with another sigh, and something flickered across his face – no.Shimmered.I frowned; at first it was just Caelan’s face. Handsome and bearded and – whole. No gap through his brow, no pinch at the corner of his lip. He was entirely unscarred, as though it had healed between one blink and the next.
“The punishment was hers to bear. This reminder,” said Caelan, his scar shimmering back into place, “was mine.”
His eyes were green flame, simmering with decades of vicious rage. He lifted his chin high, steeling himself to go on.
“I couldn’t fail her again, Rosie. I couldn’t do that. So when she asked me to take her captor’s skin, I did. And when she asked me to stay, because she couldn’t bear to seehisface when she looked in the mirror, I did that too. I stayed until she found someone to take my place.”
Take his place?
His eyes softened at my confusion, and the barest smile ghosted over his lips, his returned scar tugging as it always did.
“Word should reach Stormsby soon enough; the young King’s rule was tragically cut short. But not before he named an heir.”
“An heir,” I echoed faintly.
“An heir. A distant cousin, with values that align more closely with thenewcrown.” Another tug of his scar. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s rather smitten with Brigid, either.”
Caelan’s smile broadened, and the sight of it tugged at my Flame, letting it slip through my grasp just a touch. If he caught the sudden glow in my eyes, he didn’t comment, but he locked his gaze on mine and finally took another step toward me. This time, I didn’t move.
“And now you’re –”
Back.
“You’re here,” I said instead.
His face did not quite fall, but somehow I sensed the flicker of disappointment all the same. He paused, and the broad, beautiful smile faded to a smirk.
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat, then tapped his chest. “Think I’ve got something that belongs to you.”
I felt my brow pitch, but he added quietly. “Your Flame, Rosie.”
“Oh, my – yes, of course, my Flame.”
Another surge through my grasp, and every ounce of fire I still held flooded into my face, my cheeks hot and blazing red.
Not his heart. Not after all this time.
I forced myself forward, stumbling into him with my determination and trying to play it off with a hand planted on his chest.
“I’ll just – I’ll call it back. And you can be on your way.”
I could feel his gaze on me from above, but I couldn’t meet it. If I had to watch the glow leave his eyes as I reeled my stubborn magic back in, I thought it might actually kill me.
“Alright,” was all he said.
I blinked fast, focusing on the hand splayed over his broad chest. Focusing on the warmth that was not just his, but my own. The beat of his heart that I could feel in the rhythm of my Flame as it danced in my chest, so blissfully giddy to be reunited with him that it had not yet realised this was the end.
Its joy was too loud, too bright – I couldn’t call its attention, within my body or his.
Panic seeped into my veins and poisoned my already aching heart.
