24. Caelum
The palace felt different after we came back.
Not louder.
Not quieter.
Just… heavier in a way that didn’t belong to the building itself.
Like something had shifted inside me and the walls were adjusting to it too slowly.
Rowan closed the door behind us without speaking.
I didn’t move immediately.
Neither did he.
There was always this strange pause between us now.
Like neither of us trusted what would happen if we filled it too quickly.
I loosened my gloves slowly.
One finger at a time.
Control.
Routine.
Habit.
Things that made sense when nothing else did.
“You’re quiet,” Rowan said finally.
I almost laughed at that.
Because I always was.
But this time...
it felt different.
“I’m thinking,” I said.
“About?”
I should have deflected.
I usually did.
That was the pattern.
That was the rule.
But something in me was already cracked open from earlier.
From the ride.
From the bond.
From everything I had been pretending wasn’t accumulating.
“My mother,” I said quietly.
The words came out before I could stop them.
Not rehearsed.
Not controlled.
Just...
real.
Rowan didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t move closer.
Just listened.
“And my sister,” I added.
My throat tightened slightly.
I hated that it still did that.
Even now.
Even after years.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees.
The posture of someone trying to keep himself contained.
“I was four,” I said.
Silence.
I stared at the floor.
Not because I couldn’t look at him.
Because I couldn’t look at that version of myself at the same time I was speaking.
“It happened inside the palace,” I continued.
“Not far from where I live now.”
My fingers curled slightly.
“They said it was an attack meant for the royal family.”
I paused.
A breath.
Too controlled.
“But they weren’t the target,” I said.
My jaw tightened.
“My mother was,” I corrected softly.
“And my sister was just… there.”
The memory came anyway.
Not as sound first.
But as sensation.
Confusion.
Noise.
Movement I didn’t understand.
Adults shouting in a language I couldn’t process fast enough.
And then...
stillness.
Too sudden.
Too wrong.
“I remember not understanding why no one was moving the way they were supposed to,” I said quietly.
“My mother told me to stay behind her.”
My hands flexed once.
“She told me it was going to be okay.”
A pause.
“People always say that when it isn’t.”
Rowan hadn’t moved.
But I could feel him differently now.
Not closer.
Not farther.
Just… present in a way that mattered.
“I remember her falling,” I said.
My voice lowered.
Not dramatic.
Not performative.
Just factual.
“And my sister…” I stopped.
Because that part was harder.
Always harder.
“She tried to reach me,” I said.
“She didn’t make it.”
Silence filled the room completely after that.
Not uncomfortable.
Just heavy.
I swallowed once.
Then exhaled.
Like I was releasing something I’d been holding for years without realizing it.
“I didn’t understand death properly until later,” I added quietly.
“At first I thought they were just sleeping.”
My throat tightened again.
“I kept waiting for them to wake up.”
I looked up slightly.
Not at him.
Just forward.
“They never did.”
Silence.
Longer this time.
Then...
“I want to find them,” I said.
The words surprised even me slightly.
Because I hadn’t meant to say them out loud.
Not like that.
Not fully formed.
Rowan finally spoke.
Quiet.
Careful.
“What would that give you?”
I blinked once.
“Justice,” I said immediately.
Then slower...
“Answers.”
A pause.
Then I added more honestly than I intended to:
“Closure.”
Rowan leaned back slightly against the wall.
Thinking.
Not dismissing.
Not agreeing.
Just processing.
“That kind of thing doesn’t close,” he said.
I frowned slightly.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he replied.
Simple.
Not arrogant.
Just certain.
That bothered me more than I expected.
I stood up.
Slowly.
“I don’t intend to let it remain unanswered.”
“I didn’t say you should.”
That made me pause.
He studied me for a second.
Then said something that didn’t fit into palace language.
Didn’t fit into protocol.
Didn’t fit into anything I was used to hearing.
“Come with me on the bike.”
I blinked.
“…What?”
“Bike Ride,” he repeated.
“Clear your head.”
“That is not relevant to...”
“It is,” he cut in.
Not harsh.
Just firm.
A pause.
Then...
“Trust me.”
That word again.
I didn’t answer immediately.
Because trust wasn’t something I gave easily.
Not anymore.
Not after everything.
But something in me...
something already loosened from earlier...
didn’t immediately reject it either.
“…Fine,” I said finally.
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
That surprised him more than he tried to show.
We left shortly after.
No guards.
No announcement.
Just the two of us.
The garage felt colder this time.
Or maybe I just noticed it more.
Rowan’s motorcycle stood there like it always did.
Unchanged.
Unbothered by titles or crowns or expectations.
I stared at it longer than I meant to.
“You’ve done this before,” Rowan said.
Not a question.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I hesitated before getting on.
The same hesitation as before.
The same unfamiliar uncertainty.
This time, Rowan looked back slightly.
“You’re overthinking it.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
I exhaled once and got on behind him.
My hands hovered again.
For a fraction of a second too long.
Then...
I placed them at his waist.
The moment I did, I felt the engine shift beneath us.
Alive.
Ready.
“Hold on,” he said.
“I am.”
This time...
he didn’t argue.
The bike moved forward.
Fast.
Immediate.
The palace disappeared behind us almost instantly.
And with it...
everything else.
The wind hit harder than I expected.
Louder.
Sharper.
Stripping away thought in pieces.
My grip tightened without permission..
Not fear.
Instinct.
Rowan noticed.
I felt it.
But he didn’t comment.
The city blurred around us.
Lights.
Movement.
Sound.
None of it stable enough to focus on.
And something strange happened.
The more we moved...
the quieter my thoughts became.
Not gone.
Just less loud.
Less demanding.
Less sharp.
I realised at some point I was holding him tighter.
Not panicked anymore.
Just steady.
We stopped eventually in a place that didn’t belong to anything I recognised.
Small.
Simple.
Warm lighting.
Food.
Real food.
Not palace food.
Not formal.
Just...
life.
We ate what Rowan referred to as cheeseburgers.
Messy.
Unrefined.
Strangely grounding.
I kept expecting someone to recognise me.
To react.
To bow.
To interrupt.
No one did.
Rowan noticed.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said.
“I am not.”
“You are again.”
I looked at him briefly.
Then back at my food.
“…It’s quieter here.”
“It always is,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
But I understood.
When we left, the sky had deepened into dark blue.
The ride back felt different.
Slower.
Not in speed.
In feeling.
And when we arrived back at the palace, we didn’t immediately separate.
That was new.
We walked through the corridors together.
Not speaking.
Not rushing.
Just...
moving.
At some point, without thinking, our hands brushed.
This time...
neither of us moved away.
His fingers closed around mine.
Simple.
Unquestioned.
I looked down at it for a second.
Then didn’t let go.
We walked into the palace gardens without speaking.
The air there was softer.
Less structured.
Less heavy.
For the first time in what felt like years...
my chest didn’t feel tight.
Rowan didn’t let go of my hand.
And I didn’t ask him to.
We just stood there.
In silence.
Together.
And for once...
it didn’t feel like something was about to break.