Chapter 16
Caelan
The road, half cobblestone and half dirt, rushed toward Caelan’s face.
Throwing his hands out in front of him, he winced at the tiny sharp pebbles that lodged themselves in his palms. He had spent the morning meandering around the expansive fairgrounds, occasionally stumbling over his own feet.
After rising and brushing off his knees, he reached into his doublet, secured his flask, and tilted his head back to drink the liquid within.
Others jumped out of his path, not wanting to create more of a scene, especially not one involving the now-famous future king.
The aether burned his tongue and coated his throat like honey laced with hot spices.
He’d never seen anything like this festival before. His home lacked sufficient flat land for such a festival. The islands were treacherous, covered in harsh rocky hills with many of the smaller isles completely uninhabitable because of the towering spikes.
Dozens of booths sprawled out in every direction, forming the marketplace.
The sound of minstrels playing in the corners and a band playing on a stage flowed all around him.
Fresh-baked sweets and hearty spices floated through the air to tease his nostrils.
Even the muddy puddles glittered because of the aether in his drink.
He raised his hand to his forehead, shielding his sensitive eyes—another side effect of his drink of choice—as he gazed up at the clear blue sky.
He would never grow tired of that. The Shadowed Isles were so named because they were blanketed by a near-constant cloud bank.
Even with the slight chill in the air with the turning of the season, Caelan was warm from head to toe.
The open sky reminded him of being at sea, where he used to spend as much time as possible—the only way to escape the darkness of his home.
His injured ankle still jolted a little with every step he took on the packed earth.
He hated that his father would go to such lengths to prevent him from being in the Thal’Moira—though he wasn’t entirely surprised, given that the man had gone to far greater lengths to get whatever he desired.
A chill snaked its way down his spine as he remembered the reason they’d come to Valoria.
Elara made it all tolerable. Caelan admitted to himself that he hadn’t expected to enjoy spending time with her, but their training sessions had proved more than amicable.
She was an apt pupil, listening and learning far more quickly than he’d thought possible.
Her essence affinity was incredible—he’d not seen its like.
No one had in centuries. Still, Elara’s ability to heal was only a small part of the equation.
Her natural agility, stamina, and grace—combined with her sharp mind—made for a dangerous combination.
That, and her dedication to making the best of their situation in order to protect her family.
I’m in trouble, he thought. She’ll be the death of me if I’m not careful. He couldn’t let Elara get in the way of his father’s plans, or they’d both be doomed.
His stomach growled as he stopped at a booth selling various baked goods, intent on trying what looked like a latticework of crispy dough covered in a snowy white powder.
Before he could place his order with the boy—who couldn’t have been older than twelve—manning the booth, he heard a muffled cry containing his name.
“Caelan!” Elara called from a nearby sitting area filled with benches and a few mismatched chairs where couples and families sat or laid out blankets to enjoy their treats.
The sound came out harshly, but garbled, as she was speaking around a mouthful of food.
The disdain that flashed in her eyes made Caelan want to roll his own.
Instead, he walked over to her, intrigued by the pastry in her grasp.
“What do we have here?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips.
His mouth watered from his sugar craving—and from the sight of her.
Her black satin hair cascaded to her waist, a few stray wisps curling around her flushed face.
She was wearing a cobalt-blue gown—his family color.
He hadn’t anticipated how much the sight of her in that shade would affect him. Must be the red stuff.
Elara wiped some frosting from the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “Sit,” she ordered. “Try this first,” she said as she offered him a portion of her pastry. It was a light, doughy roll swirled with a dark brown filling and topped with a thick white glaze.
Caelan sat down on the wobbly bench next to her and took the food. He gave it a cursory sniff, teasing her a little, before he bit into it. He stifled a moan at the sweet-and-spicy flavor—a burst of cinnamon and lemon—as he enjoyed the fluffiness of the dough and the slight zest of the glaze.
“It’s delicious!” he said around his mouthful, and Elara’s eyes and shoulders softened at his delight. She laughed. Caelan savored that sound as much as the pastry.
“Felix, please go find us some coffee,” she said, tone turning sour once more. When the guard wandered off in search of the bitter liquid, she turned to Caelan. “What do you think you’re doing, strutting around here drunk?”
“I’m not drunk,” he mumbled around another bite of dough.
Elara’s mouth drew into a thin line as she leaned forward, inspecting his eyes. “Seriously, Caelan,” she hissed. “Stardust?”
“Do you ever stop being such a prude?”
“Do you ever stop being such an ass?” she snapped.
“Oh, come now. It’s not like you haven’t heard the rumors about me. Besides, I saw you at a party once.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
Elara shook her head. “That’s . . . none of your business. Eat your food. We’ll get some coffee in your system to sober you up.”
“Do you have another one of those?” he asked, pointing to the other half of the pastry in her hand.
Scoffing, she passed it to him. “It’s always been my favorite,” she said, a touch of melancholy creeping behind her eyes.
“You’ve been here before?” he asked, startling himself with how much he longed to know more, to wipe that haunted look off her face and bring back the laughter.
Elara nodded. “My sister and I come here throughout the year to celebrate the shifting of the seasons. My mother usually brings us, but my father has made a few appearances over the years.”
“You must miss them,” Caelan said, a fist clenching around his heart. He opened his mouth to say more, then snapped it shut at her expression.
Elara turned to him, tears brimming at the edges of the eyes, threatening to spill over. She sniffed. “What about you? They don’t celebrate the equinox in Veilkeep?”
He shook his head, licking the remnants of glaze from his lips. “Not like this. The weather isn’t as pleasant as it is here, so we mainly keep indoors or out at sea this time of year.”
“Do you at least have decent snacks?”
Caelan chuckled. “Yes, actually, but they tend to be more savory than sweet. Sera makes the best hand-pies for the winter solstice . . .” He trailed off, realizing that Elara probably didn’t want to hear about Sera.
“How long have you two been together?” she asked, her tone neutral.
“We’re not exactly together.” He shrugged. “We’ve been friends since we were children, when her parents died and she came to live with my family. After my mother passed away, my father raised us both. Over the years, we became lovers, then friends, then lovers again.”
“Go on,” Elara encouraged him.
“I think we are both struggling to . . . adjust,” he finally admitted. “I bet that sounds ridiculous to you, all things considered.” It was regret, and maybe shame, that coated his throat, his words.
“I don’t want your pity, Caelan,” she whispered.
His heart hung heavy in his chest, beating rapidly from the aether, the sugar, or her. He lifted a hand as if to brush her cheek, then dropped it back down to his side, balling it into a fist in his lap. “What about a friendship?”
“Can captives be friends with their captors?” she retorted.
No, but we’re both captives here, he thought.
They stayed silent for a while, processing the two unanswered questions hanging in the air between them. Caelan finished eating the roll.
“You didn’t ask for any of this, did you?” Elara finally asked.
Caelan shook his head.
“I thought so. And neither did she. I’m sorry for her parents, and your mother, by the way.”
The princess of Serendith was apologizing to him, after everything he’d put her through. Caelan stared at his boots. “That was all a long time ago.”
“Still, this is a lot of change for all of us,” Elara said. “Look, I know that you two have a history, but you know you can’t keep seeing her, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“Does she?” Elara asked gently.
“Yes, she does.” Caelan leaned forward, unable to resist brushing her hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “We haven’t seen each other, in that way, since the tournament.”
“Where does that leave us?” The hope glistening in her eyes was like a punch to his gut. He jerked his hand away, flexing his fingers to dispel the energy that pulsed between them.
“We should focus on your training. You aren’t progressing as quickly as I’d like,” he lied. “Your movements are slow, and you continue to hesitate during drills. Not surprising for a sheltered princess.”
She sat back as if he’d slapped her. The confusion and hurt that clouded her features stung.
It’s for the best. I can’t do this with you, he thought. He didn’t want to hurt her more than he already had. She didn’t deserve that. And he didn’t deserve her.
“Fine,” she snapped, bristling at his accusation. “Let’s just get today over with. Your father is expecting us at the main stage. Once you sober up, that is.”
Caelan shrugged. “It’s not like he’ll care either way.”
“Well, I care! I won’t have my future husband—the future king—stumbling around in public like an idiot! Pull yourself together and come find me.” She rose to her feet with a huff and stomped off.
As he watched her go, he couldn’t help the small smile that played on his lips. I am an idiot. An absolute fool, Elara. For you. With a sigh, he took the cap off his flask, tipped it, and watched the last of the shimmering red aether vanish into the dusty earth at his feet.