42. Caelum
I shouldn’t be here.
That thought repeats itself the entire time I leave the palace grounds.
Not once.
Not twice.
Constantly.
Like my mind is trying to pull me back through logic alone, the way guards and doors and protocols never managed to.
It doesn’t work.
Because logic has never been stronger than the thing pulling me forward lately.
Not since him.
Rowan.
Even thinking his name feels like stepping somewhere I’m not supposed to be anymore.
Like I’ve already been told to let go, and I’m still holding on anyway.
I move through the outer streets quietly.
No escort.
No announcement.
No crown.
Just me.
Which feels unfamiliar in a way that almost makes me anxious, except I don’t have the energy left for that kind of panic anymore.
Everything has been reshaped around him.
Even my fear feels different now.
The illegal racing district is louder before I even see it.
Engines.
Crowds.
Electric tension in the air that feels nothing like the palace.
Nothing like order.
Nothing like anything I’ve ever been trained to tolerate.
And then I see it.
The track.
The bikes.
The chaos.
And Rowan.
It hits me immediately.
Not subtle.
Not gradual.
Instant.
Like the world narrows down until there’s only him and the space he’s about to throw himself into.
He’s wearing gear I’ve never seen him in at the palace.
No uniform.
No controlled posture.
Just him.
Completely unfiltered in a way that makes something twist inside my chest before I can stop it.
And he looks… happy.
Not in a small way.
Not hidden.
Open.
Alive.
I freeze.
Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen that expression on him when he’s been near me.
Not fully.
Not like this.
The crowd around him cheers.
People call his name like it belongs to them.
Like he belongs to them.
Something sharp rises in my chest.
Not jealousy.
Not anger.
Something more complicated.
Something closer to fear dressed in confusion.
Because I realise something I wasn’t ready to admit.
This version of him exists without me.
And it looks lighter.
The engines rev louder.
The starting line forms.
And Rowan moves to his bike.
Effortless.
Familiar.
Like this is where his body understands itself best.
My wrist burns faintly.
I glance down before I can stop myself.
Pink.
Faint at first.
Then stronger.
The bond.
Here.
Now.
Responding.
I swallow hard.
Because I know what this means.
And I don’t think I’m prepared for it.
Rowan adjusts his gloves.
Looks up briefly.
Not searching.
Just scanning.
And then...
he stops.
His eyes find me.
It isn’t slow.
It isn’t accidental.
It’s immediate recognition.
Like the entire world shifts slightly out of focus except where I am standing.
For a moment, everything else disappears.
Noise.
Crowd.
Engines.
All of it.
Just us.
His expression changes.
Not fully.
But enough.
A flicker of something softer underneath everything else.
Something almost sad.
Almost relieved.
Almost resigned.
And then he smiles.
Just slightly.
Not the kind of smile people see in crowds.
The kind that is meant for one person only.
My chest tightens violently.
Because I realise I’ve never been included in that version of him until now.
Not like this.
Not in this space.
The bond flares brighter.
My wrist pulses in response.
And I see it...
Rowan feels it too.
Because his hand pauses briefly on the handlebar.
Just a fraction of hesitation.
Like the bond pulled at him for a second too strongly.
Then he looks away.
Back to the race.
Like he has to.
Like he can’t afford to stay looking at me right now.
The starting signal sounds.
Everything explodes into motion.
Bikes launch forward.
The ground vibrates under acceleration.
Crowds erupt.
And Rowan moves like he was made for this kind of speed.
I shouldn’t be watching.
I know that.
I should leave.
I should turn away before something inside me becomes irreversible.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Because for the first time, I’m seeing a part of him that doesn’t exist in palace corridors or guarded rooms or quiet conversations in gardens.
This is raw.
Uncontained.
Free in a way I didn’t know he could be.
And it terrifies me how much I don’t want to interrupt it.
Lap after lap.
He leads.
Then drops back.
Then surges forward again.
Like he’s in complete control of something chaotic.
Like the chaos obeys him instead of the other way around.
My breath tightens slightly.
Not panic.
Not yet.
Something else.
Something unfamiliar.
Pride.
Mixed with something dangerously close to loss.
Because I realise I don’t fully understand this side of him.
And maybe I never did.
The final lap begins.
The crowd rises.
Everything speeds up.
And then...
it happens too fast to process properly.
A rival bike shifts too close.
Not clean.
Not fair.
Intentional contact.
Rowan swerves.
Corrects.
Almost recovers...
Then the second hit comes.
Harder.
Wrong angle.
His bike tilts.
Time distorts.
No.
My body moves before I think.
But I’m too far.
Too late.
Rowan’s bike goes down.
It doesn’t crash dramatically at first.
It slides.
Then twists.
Then he’s thrown...
The sound cuts out in my head.
Everything does.
He hits the ground.
Hard.
And for a moment, he doesn’t move.
The world stops.
Completely.
My legs start running before I realise it.
Crowd noise returns in fragments.
Shouting.
Confusion.
Panic.
But none of it matters.
I reach the edge of the track.
People try to stop me.
I don’t see them properly.
Rowan.
Rowan.
Rowan.
He shifts slightly on the ground.
Alive.
Still alive.
But not moving properly.
Something inside me breaks open in a way I can’t control.
His wrist is faintly glowing even now.
Even through pain.
Even through impact.
The bond still there.
Still responding.
Still refusing to disappear.
I fall to my knees beside him.
Hands shaking before they even touch him.
“Rowan,” I say.
Too quiet.
Too broken.
His eyes flutter open slightly.
Find mine.
And for a second...
he smiles again.
Small.
Weak.
But real.
That makes it worse.
That makes everything worse.
Because he’s still him.
Even like this.
Even broken on the ground.
Still him.
And my world...
my entire world...
stops completely at the realization that I might lose him anyway.