Page 42 of Lost Heir
How I wished to dissolve into that promise, to tell him that understanding and forgiveness had already paved much of the path towards healing. That I understood it was all for his people. His people who continued to suffer under Keldara’s cruel thumb. A situation that painted Ronan not as a villain, but a leader caught in an impossible-to-win situation. Yet words failed me, choked by the complexity of emotions and the reality of our situation.
Ronan cradled my face and his lips tenderly met my forehead, a fleeting sanctuary from the world's prying eyes. I couldn't help but whisper a caution. “Ronan, we must be careful. The walls, the shadows, they all have eyes,” I reminded him, my voice a hushed echo of our precarious reality.
His sigh, laden with a blend of regret and longing, marked his reluctant retreat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in return. “I guess I just got caught up in the moment.”
I peered over my shoulder at Viktor and Tessa, who had given us their backs for privacy.
A mischievous idea took root, spurred by the temporary privacy their vigilance afforded us. “Let’s go get caught up in the moment elsewhere,” I suggested, a playful lilt in my voice that invited Ronan to entertain the notion of a clandestine escape.
His laughter, a rare sound that wove warmth through the cool night air, followed me as I led the way, silently beckoning him to join me in finding our secluded haven. My call to Viktor and Tessa to resume their protective roles was metwith immediate compliance, their presence a constant reminder of the delicate balance we navigated between duty and desire.
As we navigated the intricate tapestry of moonlit pathways that connected the Eastern and Northern palaces, silence settled, a reflective space where unspoken thoughts and lingering doubts danced in the shadows. The night air, cool and fragrant with the scent of late blooms, whispered secrets to the ancient stones under our feet, bearing witness to the complexity of emotions that swirled around us.
As we reached the shadowed archway that led into the Northern palace, an unexpected figure emerged from the dim light, grounding our steps to a halt. Caelan, unmistakable in his posture of impatient expectation and silver hair, pivoted toward us, his surprise unmistakable.
“What areyoudoing here?” he demanded, his steps quickening as he closed the distance to where we stood, a storm brewing in his eyes.
Instantly, Ronan and Viktor positioned themselves defensively before me, a living barrier to Caelan's advances.
Caelan’s frustration peaked. “What is this? I have no intention of harming her!”
Ronan's response was laced with cold sarcasm. “You mean no more than you already have?”
The color in Caelan's cheeks deepened, a silent testament to his anger. “Whatever has happened is between me and Lyanna.”
Ronan took a step toward him. “Her body is still covered in scars from your so-called love,” he growled. “Those marks will never go away.”
Before the tension could escalate further, I intervened by stepping forward to diffuse the brewing confrontation. “Enough!” I shouted. “What are you doing here, Caelan?”
His retort was immediate, tinged with accusation. “What aboutyou? You should be secure within the Eastern palace, not here … withhim.”
“I’m not a prisoner in my own home,” I replied, striving for a tone of measured calm. “I’m free to roam the grounds as I wish, with whom I wish.”
Caelan, visibly struggling to contain his frustration, seemed on the verge of an outburst, yet restraint held his words at bay. I could tell he wanted to scream and shout and tell me I was wrong, but somehow he managed to hold it all in, as evidenced by the vein pulsing at his temple. I’m sure there was much he would like to say, but he remained quiet.
Viktor stepped in, aiming to placate the situation. “We are keeping an eye on her, Your Highness,” he attempted to reassure Caelan. “She is safe.”
Undeterred, Caelan confronted Viktor with a fierce glare. “She should not have crossed the threshold of the Northern palace. Should you dare to neglect your duties …”
“Apologies, Your Highness,” Viktor interjected with firm respect, “but I don’t take orders from you. You are but a visitor on our lands. I take orders from the princess and the king only. Your status grants you no command here.”
Caelan’s reaction, a mix of shock and righteous indignation, mirrored the tension of the moment. As for me, the effort to suppress my amusement at Viktor's bold declaration was a battle. Indeed, Viktor more than earned my esteem in that moment, proving himself to be a true guardian amidst the crossfire of royal complexities. He deserved a raise.
Caelan's ire was palpable. He jabbed a finger in Viktor's direction, his voice a rumble of barely contained fury. “You! I would advise against such arrogance—”
His challenge was cut short by my interjection. “Andwhy should he? Viktor is correct,” I asserted, my voice steady. “If you care to argue, you can take it up with my father.”
A grieved sigh escaped Caelan, and his posture deflated slightly in resignation. “Lyanna, please … just listen to me for once. As your future husband—”
Unable to contain his mirth, Ronan barked a laugh. “By the gods, Caelan! You’llneverbe her husband. King Malik’s reaction should have told you enough.”
Caelan's retort was swift, a sharp edge to his words. “And you thinkyouwill? Because I vow that’ll never happen.”
Ronan shrugged and stepped toward him, invading his personal space, and whispered, “Maybe not, but I’ll be the one warming her bed at night.”
The tension snapped. Caelan's fist flew, connecting with Ronan's face in a burst of anger. “If you touch her,I’ll kill you!”
My voice rose above the chaos, a command for peace. “Enough! Caelan, leave now. You have no place here.”
