24. Scars are just stories
Chapter twenty-four
Scars are just stories
Scarlett
The fire had burned low, casting the chamber in amber shadows. The quiet after the storm felt strange—almost fragile, as if the castle itself were holding its breath. Every creak of stone sounded like an old ghost shifting in the walls, listening.
Rowan knelt beside Maddox, unwrapping a bloodied bandage with careful fingers. His hands glowed faintly with the verdant light of the Wilds, heat seeping into deep bruises, coaxing life back into torn muscles. The scent of crushed herbs followed every movement.
“Careful with that,” Rowan murmured, tilting Maddox’s chin just enough to see his expression. “If you’re going to pick another fight with fate in the next twenty-four hours, you’ll need all the muscle you’ve got.”
Maddox grunted, jaw tightening. “I’m fine.”
Rowan snorted softly. “You’re about as fine as a dying elk.”
“I’m not—” Maddox hissed as Rowan pressed two fingers near his ribs, causing him to wince. “—an elk.”
“No,” Rowan said thoughtfully, “you’re worse. Stubborn. Reckless. Emotionally constipated. An elk would have more self-preservation.”
Arley snorted from across the room. “He’s got you there.”
Maddox shot him a glare, but Rowan’s fingers paused, hovering over a bruise the size of a fist. “Hey,” he said, voice lowering. “I know you want to take on the world at every turn. But you’re not invincible.”
Maddox’s eyes drifted toward Scarlett, who leaned back against Ace—eyes heavy, breath slow, letting herself truly rest for the first time since the Spade stronghold had burned. “She doesn’t need me weak,” he muttered, quiet enough to sound like a confession instead of bravado.
Rowan’s tone softened. “She doesn’t need you to be perfect. She needs you alive. Don’t ruin that with stupidity. Heroic stupidity, sure, but stupidity nonetheless.”
Scarlett turned her head slightly, just enough to meet Maddox’s gaze. “You being here is enough,” she whispered. “It always is.”
He swallowed hard, the fight draining out of him.
Arley reclined on the bench, one leg dangling, a cloth tied loosely around his arm.
But he couldn’t take his eyes off her—every twitch of her fingers, every flicker of fire behind her gaze.
“You’re too quiet,” he said, eyebrows arching.
“And there it is again—that ‘Queen Of Ashes’ look. That one’s never good news for anyone. ”
“Feast or massacre… pick your poison.” Ace Hummed.
Scarlett smirked, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Maybe it’s both,” she murmured, letting the weight of her glare linger on him.
Arley shot a grin over his shoulder. “Yes, that look, the one that says she’s either about to rewrite the rules… or burn the whole damned table.”
Scarlett smirked weakly. “I’ve been scarred long enough to scare anyone.”
Rowan leaned over Scarlett, fingertips brushing along a cut on her shoulder. Warm, living magic seeped into the wound, dulling the ache. “Scars are just stories,” he murmured. “Yours are… impressive. The kind people whisper about.”
Ace’s eyes snapped toward him, dark and sharp. His hand curled protectively on Scarlett’s thigh. “Watch it.”
Rowan raised both hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Spade. I’m healing, not flirting.”
Maddox snorted. “He flirts with everyone. Even Arley.”
Rowan's eyebrows shot up. “I do not.”
Arley let out a low snicker.
Rowan threw a roll of bandages at Arley’s injured shoulder. “Oh? You think I healed you first because you’re charming? Please. You whine the loudest.”
Arley gasped. “I do not whine.”
Ace smirked. “You kind of do.”
Scarlett let out a soft laugh—thin, tired, but real. The sound warmed the chamber more than the dying fire.
“Professional admiration,” Rowan added with a wink. “For all your heroic, brooding types.”
Maddox sighed dramatically as Rowan’s magic sank into his muscles. “If admiration gets me five minutes without lifting a sword, I’ll take it.”
“Five minutes?” Rowan scoffed. “Darling, with those injuries, you’re lucky if I let you stand in the next hour.”
Maddox leaned his head back against the headboard at last, exhaustion dragging at his features. Scarlett reached out and rested her fingers on his arm. He caught her hand instantly, squeezing lightly.
Ace growled low in his throat—not a threat, but a warning layered with fondness.
Maddox smirked, eyes half-closed. “He’s not touching me again.”
Arley rolled his eyes. “He’s definitely touching you again. Otherwise, you’ll keel over.”
Scarlett smiled, the expression soft and worn and full of quiet power. “All of you… Thank you.”
Rowan rose to his feet, dusting his hands with a tired sigh. “Get some sleep. All of you. The world is not done throwing problems at you for now, and I’d appreciate it if you were conscious for the next catastrophe.”
A faint laugh escaped Scarlett before she could stop it, fragile but real. “Thank you, Rowan.” Her voice was low and sleepy.
Something gentled briefly in the older man's expression.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, earthy green magic flickering along his fingertips before fading away completely.
“Try not to burn the realm down before sunrise,” he murmured dryly.
Then he turned on his heel and disappeared through the chamber door.
It closed behind him with a soft click, leaving the room wrapped in silence and the steady reminder that for tonight at least, they were safe.