Chapter 24 #2
Two footmen stood on either side of the white doors leading to the main dining hall, both carved with intricate wooden embossing depicting vines and flowers, and gold leaf adorning every inch of the woodwork. With a simple nod from Caelan, the footmen opened the doors simultaneously.
Astraia allowed Caelan to lead her through the doorway, but her steps faltered as they entered the room.
Where a massive table had once been, able to seat at least fifty courtiers and cabinet members, was a simple small table set for two.
No other guests were in the room. Only the butler, Graves, was standing nearby.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Caelan started, gesturing for Graves to leave, “but I loathe the dinner parties my parents throw in some pathetic way of spoiling the cabinet members into submission. So I thought it could just be us tonight.” He glanced at her sideways, then made to pull out her chair from the table.
“You never were one for following the rules.” Astraia took her seat, watching a true breathtaking smile flash across his face.
Graves reappeared, pouring wine and bowing to Astraia as he left.
She bit her lip as he bowed, her face paling at the realization that two of Caelan’s servants were aware of her existence. It would only be a matter of time before the inevitable gossip wove its way through the entire staff.
“They are sworn to secrecy, Astraia.” Caelan’s voice rose, likely as a warning to Graves and any other staff members.
She nodded, mute as panic seized her. She had risked exposure of her existence by coming to Volpes.
But she had nowhere to go. There was nowhere she called home anymore.
Home was her brother. Home was the grassy knoll on the beach.
Her home was destroyed. If she was discvered, she would be taken to the king.
Caelan would be dragged away too, an accomplice and a Starborne himself.
The air was too thick, her dress too tight, as she started breathing quickly.
She needed to leave now. If she started riding tonight, she could follow the Njord River on the north side of Virellia until she reached the Skyforge Peaks.
Then she could hide away in a mountain village somewhere, disappear into the snowy forests and become another nameless sojourner, unable to hurt anyone else.
A rough, firm hand encircled hers and squeezed, jolting Astraia from her thoughts.
“Breathe, Astraia. You are safe here. No one will ever hurt you again. Not as long as I draw breath.” Caelan stared at her with conviction.
She took several deep breaths, calming her nerves, until her heart was no longer pounding in her ears.
Caelan would keep her safe. He could be her new home.
Sighing, she released his hand and drank from her wineglass.
Sweetness coated her tongue, reminding her of another dinner party quite unlike this one.
“Do you remember the summer when we drank all the good wine for the trade summit gala your parents were throwing for the Hollow City?”
Caelan paused, puzzled at first from her abrupt statement, then laughed. “How could I forget? Elion was so drunk he fell into the fountain in the gardens and thought it was the Aetherdeep, so he tried swimming in it to get to Solrend.”
Astraia laughed, recalling the way Elion kept yelling, “To the Stars, Astraia, we are almost to the Stars,” and swam several laps around the circular fountain.
“And if I recall correctly, that happens to be when you first kissed me.” Caelan smirked, leaning back in his chair as he sipped from his own glass of wine.
“Me? It was you who stalked me in the gardens and basically threw yourself at me under the willow.” Astraia scoffed, downing the remainder of her wine, and speared a pear on her plate.
“The Lord of Volpes does not throw himself at women, even a breathtakingly beautiful one,” he replied, setting down his glass and staring at her. The green of his eyes danced with the light of the chandeliers above them, making them appear like the flowing branches of the willow tree in the breeze.
She laughed—a true, deep, laugh that made her sides sore within seconds and echoed around the grand dining hall.
Caelan just smiled.
The dinner was not extravagant, which was a happy surprise for Astraia.
After the trials of the last few days, her appetite had still not caught up to her.
She did allow herself to indulge in another glass of wine, despite the fact that she knew her tolerance matched an acolyte of the Constellations.
With another subtle nod from Caelan, music crescendoed from the corner of the lavish room.
A violinist along with a pianist were playing a song Astraia had not heard in many moons.
The song was from a play about the Celestial War, when Balance fought back against Dominion but perished in the attempt.
That was the tipping point of the war that led the remaining Constellations to rebel, Power leading the revolt.
The Stars’ stewards led their own war on the soil of Astradeon against Dominion’s wraiths, who were attempting to annihilate everything and everyone in their path.
Dominion was conquered, but the imbalance of the Stars was too much for the cosmos to contain.
The Stars fell—the Shattering sending a shockwave of destruction across the empyrean and destroying much of Astradeon and the surrounding realms. Chaos ensued with the imbalance and emptiness of the heavens.
Astraia fought back a wave of anger as she recounted the story. The Stars were shattered to prevent Dominion’s corrupted rule, but they abandoned everyone in the process—most importantly, they abandoned the Starborne.
Caelan stood, refocusing Astraia on the present, and extended a hand toward her. “Dance with me.”
Astraia was accustomed to danger, just not the kind of danger dressed in a tailored suit. Every fiber of her conscience was screaming for her to reject Caelan’s outstretched hand, but a spark of curiosity overruled her instincts.
Placing her hand in his, she was swept from her chair and led to the center of the dining hall. He guided her left hand to his shoulder as he slid his right hand to rest on the small of her exposed back. Her skin pebbled at his touch, and Caelan smirked with devious satisfaction.
Grasping her right hand firmly in his, he led her around the hall in a flurry of twirling and refined steps. It took her a few turns, but muscle memory took over, and she was floating effortlessly. The opulent hall seemed to melt away, blurring as they glided on the marble floors.
Astraia felt weightless, and for the first time in years, she glimpsed a shimmer of hope.
Hope that her days did not need to be spent in constant fear—her light being smothered and snuffed out by the world and its demons.
The spark of hope was small, but it was the brightest light she had seen in her dim world in so long that she clung to the possibility regardless of the odds.
Caelan held her gaze as they danced. His eyes spoke louder than words, a fierce declaration of claim. He had told her he would never let her go again, and Astraia could see that vow was written plainly in his stare.
She should be apprehensive. She should challenge his reclamation. She should tread carefully on their history. There was a lot a trained warrior should do, but tonight she was not a weapon. Tonight she was simply a runaway Starborne. Tonight, she liked the notion of being claimed.
Caelan’s smile fell as he spoke. “So what happened to your cryptic companion?”
Astraia was wondering when he would ask about Draven’s absence. She was honestly shocked that he had held his tongue for so long.
“He left,” she replied, deadpan. She refused to allow her disappointment of Draven’s abandonment to taint this sliver of happiness she had found.
“I see,” he said, an eyebrow raised obviously in confusion, but he did not probe for answers. A smile once again graced his handsome face as he slowed their steps and stopped. “I want to show you something.”
Lacing her fingers in his, he led her away from the dining hall through a side door, avoiding the footmen. After several turns down corridors, Caelan came to one of Astraia’s favorite places in the manor.
The smell of old manuscripts filled her nose as the massive wooden door to the library swung wide, and she could not help the smile that spread across her face.
Although she had spent hours hidden among the hundreds of manuscripts and scrolls housed in the two-story archives, it never ceased to amaze her how so many had survived the Shattering and hundreds of years after.
Volpes boasted one of the most extensive records of the Celestial War and before, even compared to the Celestial Court registry.
Caelan chuckled as he watched her soak in the library’s splendor. “I know you love to bury your head in these books, but this is not why we’re here.”
He tugged her hand and walked to the far end of the library next to a window overlooking the gardens. The moon was full, casting beams of light on the trees and flowers below—solace in an otherwise lightless night sky.
Caelan turned to face a tapestry hanging on one of the walls next to the window, pulling aside the fabric to reveal a hidden door.
Astraia stilled, releasing her hand from his grip. “Luring women into secret doorways may have worked for your past flings, but you’ll find yourself missing a favorite appendage if you think you’ll be able to tempt me with your charms.”
“You may find you like my charms.” He smirked, his green eyes glimmering in the moonlight.
He grasped her hand once more and opened the hidden door, revealing a winding stone staircase.
“Come on, Astraia, where’s your sense of adventure?
” he challenged her, then started ascending the stairs, slowly pulling her upward.