Page 25 of Lost Heir
Caelan laughed dryly as he began to pace. “Knowing all this, you’re still worried about his wellbeing?”
“Caelan, you don’t know everything—”
“Then tell me!” he shouted, frustration boiling over into disbelief and anger. His outburst, marked by a loud slam of his palm on the table, startled me, revealing the intensity of his emotions.
I flinched. “I can’t.”
His laugh was sinister as he came around the table to me. His approach was menacing, prompting me to retreat, asserting my readiness to defend myself if necessary. The fear wasn't of him, but of the potential violence his anger could unleash.
“Caelan, stop.”
He froze. “Are you … are you afraid of me?”
“No. But I believe you let your anger get the best of you sometimes. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it. If you try anything, you’ll force me to react, and I don’t think you want that,” I said hesitantly.
“Lyanna—”
“Caelan, I know what you want, but I can’t give that to you,” I whispered. “I’m not eleven-year-old Lyanna anymore.”
“I won’t let him have you,” he growled.
I narrowed my gaze on him. “You’re notlettinganyone have me, because I’m no one’s property. I’m not yours to keep or give away.”
Caelan prowled toward me, his steps slow and measured. “You may not be property, Lyanna, but you have always been mine. So no, I won’t allow him to have you.”
I stumbled back, trying to keep him at arm’s length. “I’m not yours, Caelan.”
“So what? Are you his?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that’s none of your business.”
When Caelan reached for me, I quickly held up a hand, fisting it and tightening my hold on the circulation of his blood before he could touch me. He seized before me, dropping to a knee as he clutched his chest. Gritting his teeth, spittle flying everywhere, he glared up at me. “Release … me,” he growled.
“No,” I answered. “I’ve been patient with you because of our shared history, Caelan, but enough is enough! I won’t put up with you behaving this way any longer. If you can’t control your temper, Iwillstop you. And you won’t like my methods,” I snarled.
“Lyanna!” he roared into the otherwise empty dining hall.
I squeezed my hold, cutting off his circulation until he gasped for air. “I’m warning you, Caelan. If you wish to remain friends, don’t push me.”
“Lyanna!” Marcellus shouted as he ran back inside the dining hall. “What are youdoing?” He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, forcing me to release my hold on Caelan.
Caelan gasped and fell on all fours, slowly getting back to his feet and charging toward me. Luckily Marcellus cut into his path and stood in front of me, pushing me behind him protectively.
“What the hell are you doing?” Marcellus exclaimed as he pushed Caelan away. “Were you really going to hit her?” he scoffed as if he couldn’t believe his friend’s behavior.
With his gaze locked on mine, Caelan pushed past me and Marcel and stormed out of the dining hall. My brother kept me tucked behind him until Caelan disappeared. After a beat, he turned to face me, looking me over for injuries.
“Are … are you okay?” he asked, slightly confused by the situation.
I nodded. “I’m fine. What are you doing back here?”
“I was returning to the kitchen to take some food back when I heard the screaming.” He released me and put some distance between us. “What were you thinking, Lyanna? He’s our friend. How could you use your blood magic on him?”
“And what? Let him hurt me?” I scoffed.
Marcel rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t have—”
“He would,” I countered, then rolled up my sleeves to show the scars that remained from Caelan’s torture session back in the Central Plains. “He has.”
