Chapter 33 Salt Between the Stars
Chapter thirty-three
Salt Between the Stars
-Maris-
Maris sulked.
Not the quiet, composed brooding of a lady wronged. No. She seethed. Pacing barefoot across the silken rugs of a gilded chamber she’d never seen before —dressed in borrowed silks she’d rather burn, teeth clenched so tightly her jaw ached.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She wanted to scream. To tear into herself for not recognizing the signs sooner. For writing off the dreams as some fevered fantasy, some strange, secret craving born of exhaustion and loneliness.
The man who’d haunted her sleep…
She’d known his voice before he spoke.
Knew the curve of his mouth before she saw it twitch in amusement.
Knew his eyes —violet and endless— long before she ever opened hers.
And Kael. Gods-damn him.
It all made sense now. His sudden disappearance the day she’d left her journal out and rushed to training. His brutal appearance when he burst into their chambers hours later. His loaded questions. The way he’d touched her like she might vanish.
He knew who the male had been.
And instead of telling her…
He proposed. A council tactic after all.
Maris ran both hands through her tangled hair, dragging her nails across her scalp in frustration.
The ache was better than the burn in her chest. The betrayal.
The hollow, cold realization that she’d been left in the dark.
Like she didn’t deserve the truth. Like she was some pawn they could maneuver to suit their own will.
Maybe you are, whispered a bitter part of her.
She shook her head — no — she knew better.
Not after everything. Not after what the goddess had shown her. Not with the way power now rippled through her fingertips like lightning trapped in skin.
Maris moved to the wide, arched window that overlooked jagged sea cliffs. A salt-heavy wind whipped her hair around her face. Her body ached.
Not just from anger, stolen sleep, or the magic trying to reforge her bones.
She missed Kael. Despite herself.
That cold, possessive, infuriating man who’d made her feel safe and seen for the first time in her life and then hid the truth of her dreams like a dagger under her pillow.
She hated him.
She missed him and through the bond she could feel him.
A dull warmth. A low hum like a heartbeat far beneath the earth. Quiet. Not panicked. Not torn apart with rage.
He was still sleeping.
He didn’t know she was gone. Not yet.
Her stomach twisted.
Would he even care?
Of course he will, something in her whispered.
That part of her bonded soul that had started to learn the shape of his, remembered how he trembled when he kissed her. The part that still tasted his name like honey and ash —licking up his thoughts as they came undone.
But none of it mattered now because she wasn’t beside him.
She was here.
The realm of King Alarik of Calanthe.
Real. Alive. And far more dangerous than she’d ever imagined.
There was a quiet knock at the chamber door polite but firm.
Maris didn’t answer. But unlike in Calyrix the door did not open anyway.
She let out a huff, annoyed that this wretched place respected boundaries, ironic.
But she stood and made her way to door, as she turned the knob and pull the door back it revealed Serenya standing just outside the frame.
She smiled at Maris, her blonde braid glinting like woven sunlight against the soft blue of her tunic.
Her eyes, so vividly blue they bordered on unnatural, took in her appearance with a warriors precision.
“You’re up,” Serenya said gently, hands clasped behind her back. “That’s… a good start.”
Maris didn’t move to allow her enterance to the chamber. “How long was I out?”
“Five hours from the effects of the dream spell on your human blood. It was more potent, you were fevered for half of it. Talking in your sleep.”
Maris stiffened. “What did I say?”
Serenya tilted her head. “Nothing I understood. Mostly one name —Kael.”
The sound of his name in someone else’s mouth made her flinch. Maris eyes narrowed, she turned retreating back to the bed, Serenya followed her inside.
“And what does he think of that?”
“If you mean King Alarik, I don’t know. He hasn’t spoken of it to me.” Serenya paused, then added, “He doesn’t speak of much. Not when he’s angry.”
“So he’s angry,” Maris muttered, crossing her arms.
“He’s… conflicted.” Serenya smiled faintly. “Which is worse.”
That tugged something raw in her chest, but Maris ignored it. “Why are you here, then? To see if I’ve snapped? Sprouted horns? Burst into divine flame?”
Serenya chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re ready to do worse than that, I’m sure.”
Maris blinked.
“I’m here because I was assigned to your care,” Serenya continued. “But also because I requested it. Not many women set fire to prophecy and politics, let alone make two Kings lose sleep. I had to meet the reckoning for myself.”
Maris groaned. “Gods.” Suddenly more aware of the impact of the past few months. She had only been a poor seamstress. Now she was to revere.
Serenya stepped forward, offering a bundle of soft deep navy clothing, stitched with gold at the hems, simple but elegant.
“Dress,” she said gently. “If you feel up for it, I’ll show you the gardens. The sea cliffs. The inner walls of Nerium. The light of day is slipping over the horizon so the castle will soon stir to life.”
Maris raised a brow. "To see one castle is to see them all."
Serenya eyes lit brightly, a flicker of pride touching her face. “The capital fortress and palace of Calanthe was built into the cliffs like a blade. It was a ship once, or so the oldest myths say. A god’s ship sharing the same name, ran aground after the war between realms.”
Maris snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”
“No,” Serenya replied, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “But the view is still breathtaking, i'd love to show you around.”
Minutes later, Maris was dressed and following Serenya through high, vaulted halls carved from dark blue stone shot through with glimmering veins of silver and gold ore. Sunlight streamed through crystal glass mosaics, casting long patterns of waves and beasts onto the marble beneath their feet.
The air smelled different here. Less like blood and old iron. More like salt and storms.
They passed balconies that overlooked sheer cliffs —the ocean far below —its surface heaving like a beast in sleep. Gardens clung to the rock in terraces, bursting with strange sea-colored blooms, orchids and vines that shimmered faintly with residual magic. Seabirds cried from distant towers.
“It’s beautiful,” Maris admitted grudgingly, her arms wrapped around herself. Nothing like Calyrix.
“It is, but also dangerous,” Serenya corrected. “Alot like you I'd wager.”
That earned a flicker of a smile.
They walked in silence for a while. The wind kissed her face, and for the first time since waking in this strange place, Maris’s thoughts dulled from their fever pitch.
But not for long.
Because he was here. Somewhere in this castle. The man from her dreams. The one who’d watched her sleep and whispered riddles into her bones. The sworn enemy of her betrothed.
The sea wind stung her cheeks, brisk and briny, curling through the pale archways like it had something to prove. Maris clutched the blue velvet cloak tighter around her borrowed dress, the fabric soft but unfamiliar.
Serenya walked a step ahead, her crown of braids shining gold beneath the morning light — only occasionally stopping to pointing out a garden path or the name of some flowering vine curling up the marble walls.
They stepped into a quiet courtyard where the scent of salt and crushed petals clung to the air.
“This isn’t just a palace,” she said softly, eyes scanning the sculpted hedgerows and whitewashed towers.
Serenya glanced back, calm but unreadable. “Nerium has been many things. A palace. A refuge. A prison.”
“Prison?” Maris asked, voice sharp. “How fitting.”
Serenya tilted her head. “You’re not a prisoner, Maris.”
Her mouth flattened. “Funny. I don’t recall choosing to be here.”
There was a flicker of something in the other woman’s eyes regret, maybe, or sympathy held carefully at bay. “He didn’t want to frighten you.”
Maris barked a humorless laugh. “Then maybe he shouldn’t have drugged me and stolen me out of my bed.”
Serenya didn’t flinch. “Do you remember your dreams?”
Maris froze. Her heartbeat surged. “You know about those?”
“I know he’s been in them. And that you began to change afterward.” Serenya stepped closer. “That isn’t nothing.”
Maris stared at the horizon and the waves below. She hated how much of this made sense. How long had she ignored the pull in her chest? The flickers of magic? The way her thoughts weren’t always entirely her own?
“How long have you known, he would bring me here?” she asked finally.
Serenya hesitated. “I was told to prepare your rooms weeks ago. He said you would come. That you might need time. That you’d be frightened.”
“I’m not frightened,” Maris lied.
Serenya smiled faintly. “An oversight on his part, I assure you.”