37. Rowan
It happens fast.
Too fast in the way important things always do.
No warning.
No buildup.
Just a shift in the air around Caelum that I feel before I actually see it.
We’re in one of the lower garden corridors.
Not the open part.
The connecting path between two sections of the palace grounds...stone walls, trimmed hedges, limited sightlines.
A place that looks safe if you don’t know how to look at it properly.
Caelum is a few steps ahead of me.
Not far.
Close enough that I can reach him in under a second if I need to.
Close enough that I always assume I’ll have time.
That assumption is what almost gets him hurt.
I hear movement first.
Not palace guards.
Wrong cadence.
Wrong intention.
My body reacts before my mind fully registers it.
I step forward.
Fast.
Too fast.
Someone comes out from the side corridor.
A blade flashes.
Not ceremonial.
Not decorative.
Intentional.
It’s aimed at Caelum.
Not a warning.
Not intimidation.
A strike.
Everything narrows.
I don’t think.
I move.
I shove Caelum back hard enough that he stumbles out of the path.
My shoulder takes the impact instead.
Metal grazes fabric.
Not deep.
But close enough to matter.
The attacker doesn’t get a second attempt.
I grab their wrist and twist.
There’s a sharp crack and the blade drops.
They don’t get to fall properly before I’ve already pushed them into the wall.
Hard.
Controlled.
Final.
Security arrives a second later.
Too late.
As always.
The attacker is dragged away.
There’s shouting somewhere in the distance.
Orders.
Confusion.
Damage control starting too slowly.
But I’m not listening to any of it.
Because Caelum is still behind me.
Breathing.
Alive.
Standing.
That’s what matters.
That’s what should matter.
Except my hands are shaking.
Not visibly at first.
Just slightly.
Then more.
I look down at them.
And I realise I’m not actually thinking about the attacker anymore.
I’m thinking about what could’ve happened if I was half a second slower.
My chest tightens.
Sudden.
Sharp.
No.
Not now.
Not here.
I turn slightly away from Caelum before he can see my face properly.
But it’s already too late.
My breathing is off.
I can feel it.
Shallow.
Uncontrolled.
“Rowan?”
Caelum’s voice is close.
Too close.
I don’t answer immediately.
Because if I open my mouth right now, it won’t come out right.
My heart is hitting too hard against my ribs.
My thoughts are fragmenting.
Not into memories this time.
Into outcomes.
If I had been slower.
If I had misjudged distance.
If the blade had shifted angle...
My stomach tightens violently.
I step back again.
Not from him.
From everything.
“I’m fine,” I manage.
It sounds wrong immediately.
Even I can hear it.
Caelum steps closer.
I don’t want him to.
Not right now.
Not like this.
My chest tightens further.
Breathing becomes harder to control.
My vision narrows slightly at the edges.
This is familiar.
Too familiar.
I reach for my phone without thinking too hard about it.
My fingers don’t cooperate properly at first.
I nearly drop it.
I call Kai.
Because I don’t trust myself to handle this alone.
Not anymore.
He picks up fast.
“Rowan?”
My voice doesn’t work properly at first.
I try anyway.
“It’s happening again.”
A pause on the other end.
Instant shift in tone.
“What happened?”
I swallow.
Hard.
My hand tightens around the phone.
“There was an attack. Caelum...someone tried to...” I stop.
My throat closes slightly.
“I stopped it, but I...”
I can’t finish.
Kai’s voice cuts in immediately.
“Hey. Focus on me. Not the scene. You’re not there anymore.”
I try.
But my body doesn’t agree.
My breathing is still too fast.
Too shallow.
“I can’t...” I start.
Then stop again.
Because it feels like my lungs are failing basic instructions.
“Okay,” Kai says quickly. “Look around. Tell me what you see.”
I force my eyes to focus.
Stone.
Hedge.
Light.
Sky.
Caelum still nearby.
Alive.
“I see…” I exhale shakily. “The garden corridor. Stone walls. It’s morning.”
“Good,” Kai says. “You’re here. Not there. Keep going.”
My grip tightens on the phone.
My hands are shaking more now.
“It almost happened again,” I say quietly.
My voice breaks slightly.
“I almost...didn’t get there in time.”
Kai doesn’t let that spiral.
“Stop. Don’t go into the ‘almost’ part.”
I try.
It doesn’t fully work.
But I try.
My chest is still tight.
My body still in that post-adrenaline crash that doesn’t know what to do with itself.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I say suddenly.
It slips out before I can stop it.
A pause.
Kai doesn’t interrupt.
He waits.
“I can’t be near him and keep failing at the same time,” I add.
My voice is quieter now.
Less controlled.
More honest than I intended.
Kai’s tone softens slightly.
“You didn’t fail.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“It felt like it.”
Silence for a second.
Then...
“Alright,” Kai says. “We’re going to slow your breathing. In with me.”
I hesitate.
Then try.
Not fully successful at first.
But I follow.
“In,” Kai says.
I inhale.
Shaky.
“Out.”
I exhale.
Not smooth.
But longer.
Again.
My body starts to respond slowly.
Not quickly.
But enough.
Enough to stop the worst of the spiral.
My vision steadies slightly.
My breathing begins to slow from chaos into something unstable but manageable.
“Good,” Kai says quietly. “Stay with me.”
I close my eyes briefly.
Just for a second.
Not long.
Just enough to reduce input.
“I hate this,” I admit.
My voice is quieter now.
Tired.
“I know,” Kai replies.
No judgement.
No surprise.
Just acknowledgment.
I look up again.
Caelum is still there.
Watching me.
Not panicked.
Concerned.
That makes something in my chest tighten in a different way.
Not panic.
Something worse.
Because I realise he saw this.
Not just the attack.
Me like this.
“I shouldn’t be around him,” I say suddenly.
The words come out flat.
Certain.
Kai doesn’t respond immediately.
That pause matters.
Then he says carefully, “Rowan,”
“I mean it,” I cut in.
My grip tightens on the phone.
“I’m the reason things get worse around him. Every time I get close, something happens. Someone gets hurt or almost gets hurt or...”
I stop.
Because I can’t finish that sentence without spiralling again.
Kai’s voice stays steady.
“That’s not causation. That’s proximity under threat conditions.”
I shake my head slightly.
Even though he can’t see it.
“It feels the same.”
Silence.
My breathing is better now.
Not good.
Just… functional.
I look at Caelum again.
He hasn’t moved away.
That’s the problem.
He’s still close.
Still here.
Still in range of everything I can’t fully control.
And that thought lands heavier than anything else.
“I need distance,” I say quietly.
It doesn’t sound like a choice.
It sounds like necessity.
Kai goes quiet for a second.
Then:
“Is that what you actually want?”
I don’t answer immediately.
Because I don’t know.
Or I do.
And I don’t want to admit it.
My eyes stay on Caelum.
On the fact that he’s still standing.
Still safe.
Because of what I did.
Because I got there in time.
But also because I was there in the first place.
“I don’t know,” I admit finally.
My voice is quieter.
More controlled now.
“I just know what happens when I’m close to things I care about.”
Kai exhales slowly.
“That’s not evidence,” he says. “That’s fear.”
I swallow.
Hard.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe not.
It doesn’t change what I feel.
My chest is calmer now.
Not normal.
But no longer spiralling.
“I can’t risk it,” I say finally.
Quieter.
More certain this time.
Not emotional.
Just decision-shaped.
Kai doesn’t argue.
He just says, “Okay. But don’t make that decision while you’re still in the aftershock.”
I don’t respond.
Because I already know what I’m going to do.
Or think I do.
I end the call slowly.
My hands steadier now.
But not my thoughts.
Not fully.
When I look up again, Caelum is still there.
Still watching me.
Still close enough that it matters.
And I take a step back.
Not away from danger.
Away from myself.
Because I don’t trust what happens when I stay too close anymore.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.
Not even to the version of me that always tries to do the right thing and ends up shaking afterward.
“I need space,” I say quietly.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Just final in a way I don’t fully like hearing myself say.
And for the first time...
Caelum doesn’t immediately close the distance.