Chapter 41
Elara
Caelan was standing on the bank of one of the larger ponds on the property that hadn’t yet iced over.
The snow had subsided, leaving the shoreline muddy and slick.
Elara approached silently, watching as he scooped up a handful of pebbles.
After the fourth one skipped across the water, she stepped behind him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He turned, eyes widening with surprise and a shy smile brightening his features.
Caelan looked at her like a man who was dying of thirst and she was a freshwater stream, finally found and able to quench him.
Elara held out her hand, palm up, and waited for him to pass her some rocks.
She threw her first one, which soared over the pond before it bounced off the surface once, twice, seven times.
When it finally sank, Caelan let out a hearty laugh.
The sound made her heart skip like the stones.
Elara launched her second stone, but as soon as it hit the water, it plopped under the surface with a soft gulping sound.
She looked over at Caelan incredulously while he pretended to examine his fingernails.
“No fair,” she said, bumping him with her shoulder. He stiffened at the friendly gesture, perhaps unsure of her intentions after suffering days of her aloofness.
“I think we took fair off the table a long time ago,” Caelan said, suddenly serious.
He didn’t apologize again, and she was glad for that.
Instead, he simply looked down at the water’s edge as the ripples they’d created faded away and the surface smoothed over, as if nothing had disturbed the pond’s peace.
“I talked to Sera,” Elara said. “I don’t agree with what the two of you did, but I understand it much better now.” She took his hand in hers and brought his knuckles to her lips.
Caelan’s eyes flashed to hers, burning with hope. “How can you forgive me? I’ve done everything wrong.”
“I did everything right, and look where that got me. I think it’s time we changed the rules of the game,” she said.
Elara had been waiting for others’ approval, for others—men especially—to believe she was “ready.” First with her father, then in her training with Caelan.
Now, she had no choice but to step into her own power—to have faith in herself and take what was rightfully hers.
She would reclaim the throne even if it wouldn’t be how she’d imagined it. And Father won’t be there to see it.
“Will you help me? Rule Serendith?” she asked. “It won’t be easy—the crown is heavy. But we can’t let your father have it.”
“Our plan will work.” He pulled Elara into his side, his warmth and familiar cedar scent filling her with longing. And trepidation.
Elara shrugged out of his embrace and stepped back. “It has to.” Before he could say another word, she turned and left him alone at the water’s edge. No matter what becomes of us.
Elara knocked on Caelan’s door as the sun rose the next morning, scattering buttery light on the floor through the colorful windows.
A heavy thump sounded, like that of a boot being dropped to the floor, before the door creaked open.
A shadowed eye peered through the crack in the doorway.
Caelan flung the door open and beckoned her in.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, blond hair mussed and one boot on, the laces still undone.
He hadn’t even buttoned up his shirt yet.
Elara followed him into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
“It’s good to see you,” he said. Dark circles hung under his bloodshot eyes, and fresh bruises covered his hands.
Elara knew that the last few days had been rough on him, and a tiny darkness inside her was glad for it.
But she did still love him, and it hurt to see him suffering like this.
Elara had a plan coming into this conversation.
She was going to stay calm, collected. Despite her willingness to move forward together, healing their relationship and rebuilding trust would be a lengthy process.
The emotional wounds they’d both sustained would take longer to heal than his bruises.
Elara had intended for them to sit and have a cordial, if difficult, conversation about what had happened and their expectations for the future. That plan didn’t stand up to the starving look in his eyes. Caelan looked so sad and sweet and irresistible.
Without saying a word to him, Elara flung herself into his arms. He gasped in surprise, then wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her tight.
Elara looked up at him, and they locked eyes.
She pressed her lips onto his and slipped her hands underneath his shirt, dragging her nails down his back with enough pressure to make him shiver.
Caelan stroked her hair and released her lips in favor of her neck.
He found her favorite spot, and Elara let out a soft moan.
Caelan traced circles into her inner thigh with his thumb. The circles worked their way up her leg until she was tingling with anticipation. His eyes roved down, then up—as if he was memorizing every inch of her. She was still fully clothed, but that gaze alone stripped her bare.
Caelan lifted her, and Elara wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her, placing her on the bed like a prize.
Where their first few times together had been near wild, this time was tame.
They savored every touch, every whispered breath, the familiar scent of each other’s skin a welcome balm after what felt like years of separation.
Elara gently cupped Caelan’s face, her fingers tracing the line of his stubbled jaw.
His golden eyes were no longer strained with longing, but softened with peace.
The weight of the past seemed to lift as they both knew, with quiet certainty, that this was a new beginning.
A light peck on his lips, then she nuzzled into his neck, the texture of his shirt rough against her cheek.
With a sigh of contentment, he settled his chin on her shoulder.
They remained entwined with each other for a while before Caelan gestured to his lone boot—still on his foot. Elara laughed as he attempted to ready himself for the rest of the day. Before he could do much more than get his other boot on and start buttoning up his shirt, Elara stopped him.
“Wait,” she said. “Do you have time for a bath?”
He grinned. “With you? Always.” He pulled on a cord, ringing a bell to summon a servant. Soon, an older man Elara had never seen before prepared a bath for the couple. The attendant filled the cast-iron tub with steaming water, and the crisp fragrance from floral oils filled the room.
“Couldn’t you do that for him?” Elara asked, concerned for the man’s well-being as he lugged the last bucket over to the tub.
“Yes,” he whispered. “But Phineas wouldn’t appreciate it—he’d see it as an insult. Not everything needs magic as its solution.”
The crackling fireplace cast a gentle glow throughout the small room.
Caelan ordered some wine, along with a tray of fruits and cheeses, and arranged them on a three-legged wooden stool next to the bathtub.
It all looked and smelled like heaven to Elara.
But, cuddled against Caelan’s chest in the water, the rest of the world fell away. She was home.