39. Rowan
The palace feels different on days like this.
Not quieter.
Not louder.
Just… staged.
Like everything has been arranged too carefully to look accidental.
Like even the air has been instructed to behave.
I stand near the edge of the ceremony hall where I’m not supposed to be anything more than background.
That’s fine.
I’ve been background most of my life.
Guard.
Bodyguard.
Stripper.
Racer.
Anything that stays useful without being visible for too long.
But today even background feels like it has weight.
The hall is full.
Too full.
Nobles.
Priests.
Advisors.
Foreign envoys.
People who will remember this day as a political alignment more than anything else.
A union.
A correction.
A future secured in ceremony instead of conversation.
And at the centre of it all...
Caelum.
He stands at the front of the hall dressed in white and gold.
It suits him in a way that feels almost unfair.
Like the colours were made for him long before he existed to wear them.
Aethylla stands beside him.
Composed.
Perfect.
Carefully present in the way royalty always is when something irreversible is about to happen.
The priest speaks.
Words I don’t fully process at first.
They pass through me like noise rather than meaning.
Because my attention is elsewhere.
Locked on him.
Caelum doesn’t look at me.
Not even once.
Not because he can’t.
Because he won’t.
That difference matters more than I want it to.
I tell myself I’m here because it’s my duty.
Because I’m assigned to security detail.
Because I’m supposed to ensure nothing interrupts the ceremony.
Because this is just another job.
But my wrist disagrees.
It starts faintly at first.
A familiar heat.
That bond-response I’ve learned to ignore in controlled environments.
Soft pink under the skin.
Subtle.
Manageable.
I clench my hand slightly.
Try to steady it.
Ignore it.
Focus elsewhere.
Caelum speaks at some point.
I don’t hear the words clearly.
I only catch fragments.
Acknowledgements.
Declarations.
Formal acceptance.
Aethylla responds.
The ceremony continues.
Everything proceeds exactly as it is supposed to.
Exactly as it was designed to.
My chest tightens slowly.
Not panic yet.
Not fully.
Just pressure building under something I don’t have language for.
Because I know what this is.
Even if I don’t want to.
Even if I’ve spent weeks trying not to name it.
This is finalisation.
Not just political.
Not just ceremonial.
Finalisation of something I never had permission to claim in the first place.
My wrist burns brighter.
I glance down before I can stop myself.
The glow is stronger now.
Noticeably stronger.
Not subtle anymore.
Not ignorable.
I swallow hard.
Try to ground myself.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Keep it controlled.
Keep it contained.
But the bond doesn’t care about containment today.
It reacts.
To him.
To the vow.
To the shift happening at the front of the hall that my mind is refusing to fully accept.
Caelum and Aethylla step closer.
Hands lifted.
Words spoken.
The final binding beginning.
Something inside my chest twists sharply.
Too sharply.
No.
No, I shouldn’t...
The thought doesn’t finish.
Because the moment their hands meet properly, my wrist flares.
Hard.
Bright.
Painfully intense.
I hiss quietly under my breath and clench my arm tighter.
It doesn’t help.
It only makes it worse.
The bond is not subtle anymore.
It’s reacting like something is being locked into place that it refuses to accept.
Caelum doesn’t look at me.
Not even now.
Not even once.
And that’s when something breaks.
Not loudly.
Not visibly.
Just… internally.
Cleanly.
Like a thread snapping that had been holding far more than it should have been asked to hold.
My breathing shifts.
I notice it immediately.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
Not controlled.
No.
Not here.
Not now.
I force myself to step back slightly.
Out of sightlines.
Behind a column.
Just for a second.
Just enough to breathe properly.
But it doesn’t work.
Because my mind is no longer in the room.
It’s stuck on him.
On the way he stands there like this is something he chose freely.
On the way I know it isn’t.
On the way I still didn’t stop it.
The bond flares again.
Harder.
Almost violent in sensation now.
I grip the column briefly.
Try to steady myself.
But my hands are shaking.
Not from fear this time.
From something closer to collapse.
The ceremony continues.
I hear the final words.
The binding declaration.
The moment it becomes official.
And something inside me stops.
Fully.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Just… stops.
Because it’s done.
Caelum is now bound to someone else.
Publicly.
Legally.
Irreversibly in the eyes of the court.
Even if the bond in my wrist is still screaming otherwise.
My breath catches.
Once.
Twice.
Then doesn’t stabilise properly.
The air feels wrong suddenly.
Too thick.
Too close.
Too loud.
Even though nothing has changed.
I step back again.
And then again.
Until I’m no longer sure where I am in the hall.
Caelum turns slightly at the end of the ceremony.
Just briefly.
For public acknowledgment.
For protocol.
For appearance.
Our eyes almost meet.
Almost.
But he looks away before it happens.
That does it.
Something in my chest caves in fully.
Not explosively.
Just completely.
Like pressure finally finding a way out through collapse instead of resistance.
I turn and leave.
Before I can think.
Before I can decide.
Before I can stay and pretend I’m fine.
I move fast.
Too fast.
Not controlled anymore.
Not composed.
Just leaving.
The hall becomes distant behind me.
Noise fades.
Sound compresses.
Everything narrows to the urgency of needing air that doesn’t feel like it belongs to that room.
My wrist is burning now.
Uncontrolled.
Bright.
Too bright.
I can feel it pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
No.
No, not like this.
Not here.
I push through a side corridor.
Then another.
Not caring if anyone sees.
Not caring what it looks like.
My breathing breaks fully as I turn a corner.
Sharp inhale.
Failure to complete it.
Another attempt.
Still wrong.
Panic catches up fast.
Too fast.
My body remembers how to do this without permission.
The ceremony is still happening somewhere behind me, but I can’t stay inside it anymore.
Not even mentally.
I hit a wall with one hand and stop.
Not because I want to.
Because I physically can’t continue forward at that speed.
My wrist is glowing violently now.
Not soft anymore.
Not subtle.
Bright enough that I can see it even without looking directly at it.
The bond is reacting like it’s being torn.
Or like it’s trying to reach something that is suddenly out of range.
My chest tightens again.
Hard.
Too hard.
I slide down the wall slightly.
Not fully falling.
Just enough to steady myself.
Just enough to keep breathing.
Barely.
I press my hand over my wrist instinctively.
It doesn’t help.
It only makes the sensation more intense.
Caelum.
The thought is immediate.
Painful.
Unwanted.
I didn’t think it would feel like this.
Not physically.
Not like something inside me reacting against reality itself.
I close my eyes briefly.
Try to anchor.
Try to think logically.
Try to separate emotion from reaction.
But there’s no separation anymore.
Not here.
Not today.
The bond keeps flaring.
Unstable.
Erratic.
Like it doesn’t understand why I left.
Like it doesn’t accept what just happened.
And maybe neither do I.
My breathing finally slows slightly after what feels like too long.
Not stable.
But no longer collapsing.
Just… broken into manageable pieces.
I stay there.
Against the wall.
Wrist burning.
Chest tight.
Mind refusing to fully settle.
And for the first time since I met Caelum...
I realise something I didn’t want to understand.
Distance isn’t protection anymore.
It’s absence.
And absence hurts more than proximity ever did.