Chapter 30
Callum
My eyes have been shooting daggers at Rafe’s back during the entire length of our journey.
I couldn’t see Elia’s lithe frame with him surrounding her on their horse, but every once in a while Rafe would glance back to make sure I was still watching, trying his damndest to make me mad.
It did, but not for the reasons he thought.
Rafe is trying to make me jealous, of either himself or of Elia, I’m not sure which. But it’s not jealousy of their closeness together that I have. It’s outrage at the fact that Rafe is willing to talk to Elia, a stranger to him, rather than talk to me.
The sun starts to set into the horizon, turning the sky a watercolor portrait of pink and purple hues.
“There’s a place we can stay for the night up ahead,” Rafe calls out.
No more than ten minutes later, Rafe is leading us to a dilapidated cabin off the road we were following. Shutters are hanging by loose screws on the windows and the front steps of the porch are rotted through.
“Is this your place, Rafe? Seems fitting for you,” I call out snarkily.
Rafe flips me off and dismounts his horse in one fluid motion, holding one hand out to help Elia down.
“It’s an old smuggler’s house. He died about ten years ago, so I’ve been told. People use it for a safe house or shelter now. There’s a barn a bit farther out back for the horses.”
Ginna tugs on Elia’s arm. “Elia and I will put the horses away. Maybe grab some firewood too, right Elia?” Ginna’s hard glare is obvious to everyone.
“Absolutely. I need to stretch my legs.” Elia shakes out one leg, followed by the other in an exaggerated motion.
I roll my eyes, and notice that Rafe is shaking his head slightly. They’re not fooling anyone.
Ginna and Elia grab the horses’ reins and head to the direction of the barn that Rafe points out, leaving Rafe and I alone for the first time in five years.
I cave first and head into the cabin, stepping over the rotted stairs. The door needs some strong pushing before giving way, but eventually I’m able to make it inside.
It’s larger than I thought it would be. The kitchen we’re in is simple, but surprisingly clean compared to the state of the cabin outside. A large fireplace sits next to the main door with a table seating four in the middle of the room. Wood countertops and cabinets line the remaining space.
I peer into the other rooms, noticing two bedrooms and a small bathroom. People must pass through here often, because everything is well maintained.
When I come back to the kitchen, Rafe is squatting by the fireplace, rearranging the stacked logs.
I reach towards my side pouch, loosening the lace closure. “I have flint here if you need it.”
I say that at the exact same time a flame sparks from the hearth, illuminating the room in warm tones.
“I can handle it myself, thanks.” Rafe starts randomly tapping and pulling on each brick in the fireplace. I’m confused until Rafe tugs a loose brick free, places his hand inside, and pulls out a flask.
“Smuggler house, remember?” He explains, wiggling the flask at me.
Rafe pulls a chair back and takes a seat, throwing his legs up on the table top, crossing one over the other. He takes a long swig from the flask, before closing the top. He doesn’t offer it to me, not that I’m surprised.
I stay standing, leaning against the counter that is furthest away from where he is sitting.
The chirping of crickets and the sound of the wind through the trees fills the tension in the room.
Rafe tilts his head back and closes his eyes, as if he is perfectly content to take a short nap until Elia and Ginna return.
“So, that’s it?” I break the silence with a frustrated growl. “You’re not going to say anything to me after five years?”
A beat passes, then another, before Rafe opens his eyes. “And what is it that you want me to say, exactly?”
Rafe can’t be serious right now. “I don’t know, how about let’s start with why you left?” I snap, exasperated by his coolness in all this.
“You know why I left.” Rafe responds dully.
“You were helping Adrienne. I get that.”
“Mhmm.”
“But why didn’t you come back?” I leave the silent ‘to me’ out of the question, but the wavering in my voice tells him enough.
“Fine, you want to get into this?” Rafe takes another shot from the flask, voice hardened. “Let’s get into it.”
“Good. Fine! Maybe I’ll finally have some answers! Why didn’t you come back?” I ask again.
Rafe’s next words stop me cold on my feet.
“Why didn’t you tell me that the King made you his heir? Over his own son?”
The floor threatens to collapse underneath me at the weight of Rafe’s words.
“How do you know that?” I ask slowly. The King hadn’t made an official announcement yet, and as far as I know, I am the only person outside of the King who knows.
Rafe laughs cruelly. “How do I know that? I’m his fucking son, that’s why. He disowned me the night I left. He said that if I left to help Adrienne, the crown was no longer mine. It was a setup.”
He shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me that? I never wanted the crown, and you knew that. It wouldn’t have made a difference to me.”
“I didn’t know,” I swallow. When Rafe snorts, I continue. “No, I mean, he only told me about his plan to name me his heir long after you’d left. When he realized you weren’t coming back, he decided he needed a backup plan. Nothing is even official yet.”
“Right. Sure. A backup plan. Don’t stand there and tell me this wasn’t planned from the beginning. You were always the King’s favorite - his golden boy,” Rafe sneers.
“Rafe, I - it wasn’t. I would have told you if I knew.”
“Because you were always so honest with me, right Callum.” That wasn’t posed as a question, because Rafe already knows the answer.
I had lied to him over the years, but it was always for his safety and protection.
“Anything I may have lied about was always for your safety,” I explain carefully. “I was trying to look out for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that! All I wanted was you - the real, uninhibited, honest you.” Rafe’s voice quivers, and I can see his dam breaking, emotions flooding to the surface. “I never got that.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me about it? You gave up a lifetime of friendship and years of what I thought was love for a…a miscommunication? You could have written to me, Rafe! I would have traveled the world to find you and explain everything.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. Your loyalty was first and foremost to the King. Still is. And that’s why I didn’t come back.”
“You could have at least told me you weren’t returning to Ashven.
I spent months, years, watching the docks, hoping I’d see your ship in the distance.
I’d have given anything to hear from you.
Then when I found out you’d written to Ginna instead of me…
” I trail off, trying not to prevent tears from falling. “You broke me, Rafe.”
“You broke us first.”
Rafe’s eyes glisten in the firelight, and it is the first time all day I see the Rafe I’d fallen in love with.
Approaching footsteps on the creaky porch and feminine voices cause Rafe and I to straighten up, subtly wiping our faces of any emotions we had shown in the last few minutes.
Ginna is the first to appear in the doorway, having to push the door several times before it opens. Elia’s face appears next, and I’ve never been so thankful to see her.
“Are we interrupting anything?” Ginna asks, glancing between Rafe and myself.
“Nope. Just reminiscing,” Rafe mocks dryly. He unscrews the flask and takes another sip.
Elia comes to stand in front of me and kisses my cheek. “Everything okay?”
I tug at a piece of her hair that has fallen in front of her face. “It is now. Horses all settled?”
She nods, but her eyes linger on my face, which is probably still red and blotchy. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I need to get some air for a minute.”
I manage to escape the cabin, not wanting to stay another second for any questioning by Ginna or Elia. Instead, I decide to walk to the barn, figuring it’s close enough that I wouldn’t get lost and yet far enough away that I’d have space from everyone inside.
I mull over the conversation with Rafe in my head, trying to process what I had managed to learn.
Yes, the King had told me he was going to name me his heir in lieu of Rafe’s departure.
I’d only found out, though, maybe a year or so ago, when the King’s health had taken a turn for the worse.
He told me he was afraid he didn’t have much time left and didn’t want Ashven to go without an heir if he died.
Rafe wasn’t coming back, or so it had seemed, and to him, I was his next logical choice.
People knew I was connected to the King in some way, being his Lead Hunter, so all he’d have to do was formally claim me and I’d be the heir.
But Rafe had made it sound like it was all a scheme. Like I’d planned years and years in advance to be named heir, and that wasn’t true. I’d only ever wanted to be a soldier and a Hunter. The crown never once crossed my mind, especially for a bastard like me.
It was another reason why I was so desperate to find the Stone.
If the King recovered, I wouldn’t have to worry about the whole heir ordeal.
I had hoped to find the Stone, convince the King to take another wife and have another son that was actually his.
Or, if that didn’t work, convince him to find Rafe and bring him home.
All I knew was that I was not the right person to lead Ashven. I could barely hold myself together at times, nevermind the entire kingdom.
What Rafe had expressed about honestly did hit true, though, and I wondered if I should have told him the truth all those years ago.
What would have happened if I told Rafe that his father was the one causing all the injuries he saw?
That his father had kept me in line with the threat of hurting his own son.