40. Caelum
I notice Rowan leaving.
Not because I’m looking for him.
Because I always know where he is.
Or… I did.
Until today.
It’s subtle at first. A shift in the edge of my awareness. Like something familiar stepping out of range.
Then the absence sharpens.
Becomes obvious.
Becomes wrong.
I turn slightly during the ceremony.
Just enough to catch the movement of a shadow slipping through a side corridor.
Not dramatic.
Not running.
But leaving.
Rowan.
My chest tightens immediately.
Not panic.
Something worse.
Recognition.
I should stop him.
I almost do.
My body even shifts forward slightly...
But then I stop myself.
Because I know what today is.
Because I know what leaving the ceremony would mean.
Because I know I’m already standing in a room full of people deciding what my life looks like from the outside.
And I cannot afford to look unstable in front of them.
Not now.
So I stay.
I let him go.
Even though everything in me moves the other way.
The ceremony finishes in a blur.
Words.
Vows.
Titles.
Aethylla standing beside me like she belongs in a picture frame rather than a life.
The priests speaking like this is balance restored instead of something quietly breaking in two directions at once.
When it’s done, people applaud.
I smile when I’m supposed to.
I nod when I’m supposed to.
I behave like I’m supposed to.
But I don’t feel anything except the space where Rowan used to be.
Aethylla reaches for my arm at one point.
I let her.
I always let things like that happen in public.
It’s easier than explaining why I don’t feel what I’m expected to feel.
My brother is watching me from across the hall.
I can feel it more than I see it.
That familiar pressure.
That resentment shaped into silence.
He catches me after the formalities.
Not immediately.
Later.
When the room is thinning and the noise is softening into background again.
“So,” he says.
Light tone.
Careful tone.
The kind of tone people use when they want to pretend they aren’t bleeding underneath.
“You’re married now.”
I don’t answer immediately.
Because the word married doesn’t sit properly in my mind yet.
It just echoes.
He studies me.
Then Aethylla.
Then me again.
Like he’s trying to find something he can point to and call truth.
“You’re lucky,” he adds.
There it is.
That word again.
Lucky.
As if it’s visible.
As if it’s something I possess.
I finally look at him properly.
“I don’t think that’s the word you mean,” I say quietly.
His jaw tightens slightly.
Just enough.
“You always get what you’re given,” he replies. “Some of us don’t even get that.”
Something inside my chest pulls sharply.
Not anger.
Not sadness.
Something older.
Something tired.
“Aethylla and I are a public arrangement,” I say.
Calm voice. Controlled voice. The voice I use when I want to make truth sound harmless.
His eyes narrow slightly.
“What?”
“In private,” I continue, “we are whatever we choose to be. In public, we are a symbol.”
It sounds strategic.
It sounds royal.
It sounds like me.
But it also feels like a lie I’ve told myself to survive the weight of everything I’m not saying out loud.
My brother stares at me for a moment.
Then scoffs softly.
“So it’s not real.”
I don’t respond.
Because I don’t know what “real” is supposed to mean anymore.
He walks away after that.
Still bitter.
Still distant.
Still my brother in name more than anything else.
And I stand there for a moment longer than I should.
Because Rowan is still missing.
Still absent in a way I can’t ignore anymore.
I leave the hall without announcing it.
No one stops me.
No one questions me.
I think I’m getting better at disappearing inside my own palace.
The corridors feel too long.
Too empty.
Too quiet in a way that makes my thoughts louder than they should be.
My wrist feels strange again.
Not the controlled bond sensation I’ve gotten used to.
Something sharper.
More urgent.
I follow it.
Not consciously.
Just instinct.
The garden.
Of course.
Always the garden.
The moment I step outside, the air changes.
Cooler.
Heavier.
Like something is waiting.
And then I see him.
Rowan.
He’s not standing.
Not pacing.
Not watching.
He’s… sitting.
Near the edge of the garden path.
Head slightly bowed.
Shoulders tense.
And his face...
My breath stops.
He’s crying.
Not loudly.
Not visibly dramatic.
Just… broken in a quiet way that feels more real than anything I’ve ever seen in a palace.
Something in my chest collapses instantly.
I move before I think.
Not walking.
Not rushing.
Just crossing the space between us like I’ve been pulled.
“Rowan.”
My voice comes out sharper than intended.
He flinches slightly.
Then looks up.
His eyes meet mine.
And whatever control I had left before this moment disappears completely.
I reach him in seconds.
And I don’t hesitate.
I pull him into me.
He freezes at first.
Then something in him gives.
And he leans into it.
Like he’s been holding himself together by force alone and finally stopped.
My arms tighten around him.
Not carefully.
Not politely.
Just completely.
The bond reacts instantly.
Heat floods my wrist.
Bright.
Strong.
Uncontrolled.
His wrist glows at the same time.
Not faint anymore.
Not uncertain.
It flares.
Together.
And suddenly...
it isn’t something we can pretend is anything else.
Rowan exhales shakily against me.
“I left,” he says quietly.
Like it’s an admission.
Like it hurts to say it.
I shake my head slightly.
“Don’t,” I say softly. “Don’t do that.”
His grip tightens slightly on my clothes.
And I feel something inside me crack open further.
“It hurt,” he admits.
Quiet.
Raw.
Honest in a way I’ve never heard from him before.
My throat tightens.
“I know,” I whisper.
And I do.
I feel it too.
Everywhere.
The sky shifts above us.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
Clouds gathering like they’ve been waiting for permission.
Rain starts.
Not gentle.
Not soft.
Immediate.
Heavy drops hitting stone and leaves like punctuation marks on something that’s been building for too long.
Rowan doesn’t move away.
Neither do I.
I hold him tighter instead.
Like if I loosen my grip, he’ll disappear again.
Like if I let go, I’ll lose whatever this is before I can understand it.
“I saw you leave,” I say suddenly.
My voice is lower now.
Unstable in a different way.
He doesn’t answer immediately.
“I didn’t stop you,” I add.
That’s the part that stays in my chest.
That I let him go.
Even when everything in me wanted the opposite.
Rowan pulls back slightly just enough to look at me.
Rain dripping between us.
His expression unreadable in a way that makes me want to break it open just to understand it.
“You didn’t follow,” he says quietly.
Not accusation.
Not relief.
Just observation.
“I should have,” I admit.
Silence.
Rain louder now.
Everything louder now.
Something in my chest rises again.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Something more dangerous.
Truth.
“I heard you,” I say suddenly.
That gets his attention fully.
His eyes sharpen slightly.
“When I was asleep,” I continue.
My voice tightens.
“When you said it.”
His breath catches.
Just slightly.
But I notice.
I always notice him.
“I heard you say it,” I repeat.
My grip tightens slightly on his sleeves.
“And I didn’t respond because I didn’t know how to wake up from it without ruining it.”
Silence again.
Heavy.
Charged.
Alive.
The bond pulses violently between us.
Not calm.
Not soft.
Not manageable anymore.
It’s undeniable.
I step closer again.
Closer than before.
Rain soaking through fabric.
Cooling nothing.
“I don’t care what the court says,” I say suddenly.
My voice shakes slightly.
“I don’t care what Aethylla represents. I don’t care what anyone thinks this is supposed to be.”
Rowan watches me.
Still.
Breathing uneven.
“I care that you left,” I say.
My voice breaks slightly now.
“And I care that I didn’t stop you.”
A pause.
Then...
my anger finally surfaces properly.
Not at him.
At everything.
At the timing.
At the silence.
At the rules that made this impossible to begin with.
“I hate that I have to pretend I don’t feel this,” I say sharply.
“I hate that I stood in that hall and said things I don’t even believe in the same way anymore.”
My hands shake slightly.
Not from fear.
From intensity.
“And I hate that you think you’re the only one breaking under this,” I add.
That lands differently.
I see it in his expression.
Something shifts between us.
Not distance.
Not closeness.
Recognition.
The bond flares one more time.
And this time...
it doesn’t fade.
It holds.
Between us.
Bright.
Alive.
Unavoidable.
I step forward and pull him into me again.
This time he doesn’t hesitate.
Not at all.
We stand there in the rain.
Holding on.
Like it’s the only stable thing left in a world that keeps trying to make us let go.