Chapter 16 Very Old Wine
Very Old Wine
When Aurora arrived at the castle, there was no one outside to greet her.
The staff was in the village for the wedding, and Aurora was thankful to have the palace to herself.
The journey back had been exhilarating, but now that she was here, her adrenaline was fading and she realized how truly exhausted she was.
Aurora walked the empty hallways to her room, relishing the way her footsteps echoed as she went. She wasn’t proud that it had taken her until the last possible moment to understand that she couldn’t go through with the wedding, but she also couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
Aurora reached her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and resting her back against the wood.
She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, blowing them out through her mouth.
She knew she needed to write to her family and explain herself to the Starmaker, and she would.
But for now, all she wanted to do was sleep.
She finally opened her eyes and nearly screamed.
“Aurora,” Farren said, standing in middle of the room. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Aurora’s eyes were wide. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a rush, looking over her shoulder as if the Starmaker would appear at any moment.
“I came here to see your new life. I thought it might help me move on.” Farren shook his head and looked at the floor.
“I didn’t want to go to the wedding, and I figured it would be fairly easy to get inside the castle since everyone was at the ceremony.
” He shrugged; then something seemed to occur to him, and he stood up straighter. “Why are you back so soon?”
“I didn’t marry the Starmaker,” Aurora said, a dull ache beginning in her head.
“I knew it.” A smile pulled at Farren’s lips, and he rushed toward her.
He took her face in his hands and murmured how much he’d missed her, and at first, Aurora closed her eyes and covered his hands with hers.
Farren filled her senses, newspaper ink and woodsmoke and a hint of sweat, so familiar.
What she wasn’t expecting, though, was how weak her reaction to him was.
The familiarity with which he touched her, even his scent, didn’t seem to fit anymore, and instead of being comforting, it made her tense.
She needed room to breathe, and she took a step back.
“You knew what?”
“That you wouldn’t marry him.” Farren’s voice was a mix of relief and hope, and Aurora realized he thought she’d run from the wedding for him.
The pain in her head was getting worse, and she rubbed her temples. “Farren, I’m sorry I didn’t write to you sooner. I should have, should have explained everything. It wasn’t fair, what I did to you.”
“You don’t have to explain—” Farren began, reaching for her once more, and Aurora took another step back.
“It wasn’t fair, but what I did tonight… I didn’t do it for us.” Aurora said the words as gently as possible, but she could see the way they struck Farren, the way his face fell and his brow furrowed. “I was panicked and angry, and I couldn’t go through with the wedding.”
“I don’t understand,” Farren said, his deep brown eyes searching her face. “You don’t want to be with me?” He asked the question so plainly that it broke Aurora’s heart, and she knew that the kindest thing she could do was be honest with him.
“I did before, and I still mourn that loss. But I do not want to be frozen in time while you progress ever onward. That is not a life I wish for myself.”
“I don’t care about that,” Farren said, cutting her off.
“But I do. And I need you to hear me when I say it. I’m sorry for all that has happened, and I know we would have had a beautiful life together. But it doesn’t fit anymore, and as hard as it is, we both need to accept that.”
“I don’t want to accept that,” Farren said. “I won’t.”
“You must.” Aurora sighed, needing to move, and she began to walk around the room. She was frustrated with him, frustrated that he wasn’t listening, frustrated that he was speaking over her and ignoring what she was saying.
“We can make it fit,” Farren insisted, and Aurora couldn’t understand why he was fighting so hard for this. For her. For them.
She realized suddenly that what had been a safe love for her—a love where she would never have to live in fear of the grief that had stolen her mother and haunted the Sun—might not have been a safe love for him. Maybe for Farren, it had been something stronger. Something greater.
An overwhelming sadness spread through her chest as she wondered whether her love for Farren had been more about fear than hope. More about preservation than dreams. If a love born of fear was even love at all.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora said again, and she truly meant it. “I’m so sorry. But I’ve made up my mind, and I hope that one day, you will understand.”
“This isn’t you.” Farren shook his head, his words turning sharp. “He did this to you. Changed you. I know your heart, Aurora, and this isn’t it.”
Aurora walked to where Farren stood, looked him directly in the eye. “My heart is no longer your concern, nor is it so malleable as to be changed by the whims of another. This is me, and these are my choices.”
“I refuse to believe it,” Farren said, his tone so different from how it had been just moments before. Mean, almost.
“And that is your right. But it is not my responsibility to make you believe things about which I am being rather clear.”
Aurora knew then that she had changed. She was not the person she’d been on the day she’d met the Starmaker, nor was she the girl who had accepted Farren’s proposal.
Before, she would have sat with Farren for as long as was necessary, let him interrupt and even insult her if that was what he needed in order to move on.
But she wouldn’t do that now, and she grew impatient as she realized that she’d rather be arguing with the Starmaker than safely loving Farren.
“I think it’s best if you go,” Aurora said softly.
Farren nodded, taking a step toward the door. “I’m sorry for coming. It wasn’t my intent to upset you.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I should have written to you.”
“I’m not sure it would have made a difference,” Farren said honestly, and Aurora understood. He had needed to hear it from her in person, and she couldn’t fault him for that. “I’ll go now.”
“Not through the castle,” Aurora said. She didn’t know if the Starmaker was back or not, but she didn’t want him to see Farren. She didn’t want anyone to, though she wasn’t sure why she felt that way.
Farren’s expression soured, but he said nothing, just walked to the balcony and opened the door in silence. Aurora followed, standing behind him as he climbed over the railing.
“Farren,” she said. He turned to look at her. “Be careful on your way home. The Frost is active in these woods.”
He nodded, jumped onto the large branch of an apple tree, then made his way to the ground, swallowed up by the darkness of night.
Aurora stood where she was for several minutes before finally making her way back inside.
Her gown felt impossibly heavy, but she couldn’t get it off by herself, and she wasn’t ready to face Ina, so she went to her desk and began to write.
It was the only thing she knew to do, and she filled sheet after sheet, getting her thoughts down.
She wrote about Farren and the wedding and her magic.
She wrote about the castle and immortality and her family.
She wrote about the Starmaker, and once she started, she couldn’t stop.
The Starmaker this and the Starmaker that.
The Starmaker, the Starmaker, the Starmaker, over and over again.
When she was done journaling, she wrote to her family, apologizing for the mess she had undoubtedly caused them and promising she would visit them soon.
She assured them she was okay—more than okay, really—told them she loved them, and sealed the letter.
She knew she had made things more difficult for them by not securing the glare line they needed, and thick guilt sat heavy in her gut.
But it was the shame that really sent her spiraling.
Making life easier for her family should have been reason enough to marry, and she’d truly thought that it was, but she had been wrong.
Perhaps she could get them more mirrors, something to help ease the burden her panicked choice had put upon them.
By then it was late, and Aurora was restless and hungry.
She was sure the Starmaker and the staff were back at the castle, but no one had bothered her, for which she was grateful.
Aurora quietly opened the door and stuck her head out, listening for any activity in the hallways, but the castle was silent.
It had been a long day for everyone, and they were likely all in bed, as she should be.
But she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, and so she replaced her wedding shoes with slippers, lit a candle, and made her way to the kitchen.
As she was about to turn into the room, Constance hopped out, and Aurora had to sidestep so as not to run into her.
“Can’t sleep either, hm?” she asked the rabbit, entering the kitchen. Then she stopped.
The Starmaker was standing with his back to her, grabbing a plate from the shelf. He slowly turned and his eyes met hers, rendering her breathless.
“I’m sorry,” she said, frozen where she was. “I didn’t think anyone would be up at this hour.”
“I was counting on the same thing,” he said.
Aurora paused. “Should I go?”
He held her gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention to the kitchen island. A gorgeous spread of sweets and cake was sitting untouched, and Aurora felt another pang of guilt as she realized the staff must have worked all day to put this together before the ceremony.
“No,” he finally said. “I think it would make the staff very happy to know their efforts were not wasted.”