Chapter 30
Caelan
Caelan stirred. Every inch of him felt like lead. His limbs were heavy, and his chest ached—at Elara's words and the soreness of his injuries. He tried to sit up, but her steady hands gently guided him back to lying down.
“Let me get Ursa first. To make sure it’s safe for you to move.
” She leaned down, kissing him on the forehead.
As she left, Caelan swiveled his head from one side of the strange room to the other, surveying his surroundings.
An infirmary. Not a place he was unfamiliar with.
While he had yet to visit this particular one, the dead herbs and odorous medicines were a minor comfort.
He’d spent half his adolescence in rooms like this, tended to by physicians at Veilkeep or medics in the training field.
He tucked his chin to his bare chest, trying to get a better look at the bandage that was squeezing his rib cage.
He gingerly touched his aching side, flinching at the sudden sharp pain. Broken. He sighed.
Not for the first time, he wished he had Elara’s ability to heal himself.
It certainly would have spared him trips to these suffocating rooms for the rest of his life.
He wished she could heal him. Maybe one day, with practice and the right tools, she could learn to do just that—heal others as well as herself.
For now, he tapped his fingers on the table and tried to ignore a sliver of wood poking his back.
Elara burst through the door, Ursa on her heels. “See, I told you he was awake already!”
“I can see that, child.” Ursa grinned at her pupil, weathered eyes crinkling at the corners.
Caelan saw then that Elara had been fortunate enough to grow up with two doting mother hens—maybe three, if he considered Iris.
He shoved down the slight bitterness of envy he felt, having lost his own mother so young.
He wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, least of all Elara.
Another pang, this time one of sadness, pierced his heart.
“Follow my finger, dear,” Ursa commanded, holding up her index finger and moving it in front of his face.
He obliged, but not before saying, “I can stick my tongue out for you too, if you’d like.”
Elara laughed, a light tinkling sound that made him melt.
“Very amusing,” Ursa said. “Now, sit up. Slowly, that’s it. Pressure here.”
He pressed his palm into his side to stabilize his broken ribs and sat upright.
“How’s your head?” Ursa asked.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ve had worse.”
Ursa looked into his eyes, searching. A quick glance at his scarred hand held the answer to her unasked question. “You have a bruised sternum and two broken ribs. Does anything else hurt?”
“Only my pride. Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out to take Elara’s hand.
“I’m fine. Already healed with my magic,” Elara said.
“I’m so proud of you.” He flashed her a crooked grin.
“For what?” A puzzled look flashed across her features.
“You controlled it. Concealed your power from him. After everything he did to you, Elara. It might not feel like it, but that was a small victory.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you. I doubt my power could bring me back from drowning to death. You saved me.”
You saved me first, he thought. The moment we met.
Caelan’s head pounded like a hangover after a night of partying with aether. Fortunately, he wasn’t too proud to ask Ursa, “Do you have anything for the pain? Or to help me sleep it off?”
“Of course. Elara, help me mix up a tincture.”
Caelan watched as the two women bustled around the small space, collecting herbs and colorful liquids. Elara pressed a pestle into a mortar with such determination that he thought it might crack.
After drinking the bitter tincture, his eyelids fluttered closed, and he fell into a deep sleep, one more peaceful than he deserved.
Sera sat under the stained glass window of Caelan’s chamber, innocently reading what he could only imagine was a torrid romance novel.
He smirked as he recalled the stack of similar titles Elara had toted around the library in the days following the coup.
When Sera’s eyes widened and her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, Caelan cleared his throat.
She yelped, nearly jumping out of her seat and onto his bed.
“Enjoying a little light reading, are we?” he asked, restraining a laugh and raising a brow at her.
The four posts of the canopy bed were wrapped with delicate painted vines that climbed the ash pillars. The tiny flowers that dotted the vines were no match for Sera. She slammed her book shut, and the vines turned into vicious snakes, their forked tongues lashing out toward Caelan.
“Glad to see someone’s feeling better,” Sera said, her own eyes as beady as her serpents’. At his grin, her sour mood vanished, and Caelan relaxed back against his headboard as the creatures disappeared in puffs of purple smoke and all returned to normal.
“You and me both,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his head and stretching his stiff arms upward. He winced as his side smarted, but the sharpness of the pain had already dulled significantly. “How long have I been out?”
“A few hours. I gave Elara a break so she could get some rest too. I’ve had to rouse you every so often to make sure your brain hasn’t gotten too big for your skull—though, to be fair, I think you’ve always had that problem.”
“I didn’t notice.” He laughed, but the vibration hurt his chest and ribs.
“She’ll be back in a little while. You should go back to sleep. The palace physician gave me some more of her sleeping potion for you if you want it.”
He nodded. “Can we talk first? About Elara?”
“Caelan, you can talk to me about anything. Always. You’re my oldest friend,” Sera said, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing her hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t protect her from him. I was a fool for thinking I’d ever be able to.” He picked at the edge of the comforter, a habit he’d had since boyhood, his fingers tracing the vibrant damask pattern.
“I know. But none of this is your fault.”
“That’s not true. I’ve made choices. They seemed impossible at the time, but they were still mine to make. And I made some wrong ones.”
“If you truly believe that, then you should tell her the truth—all of it,” Sera said, folding her arms across her chest.
Panic washed over him. “It will break her.”
“No, it won’t. She’s stronger than you think. And she loves you, Caelan. Trust me, I should know.” Sera’s lips tugged into a small sad smile.
“If I tell her the truth, then I won’t deserve her.”
“If you don’t tell her, you definitely don’t deserve her.”
Caelan considered that for a moment, weighing his decision. If I tell her, I’ll lose her. I can’t lose her. “We can at least tell her about my father’s prophecy.”
“And the rest?” Sera narrowed her eyes at him.
“I’m not ready.”
“You’re running out of time.”
“I know.” He ran a hand over his stubbled face and prayed to the stars that it would be long enough.