Page 7 of Legacy of the Heirs
“Good morning—”
“Who did this to you?” Caellum murmured. He reached for her but stopped himself, remembering his place. He hoped his expression conveyed his wish to help, but not overstep. Sadira’ssmile faltered, but when she nodded so imperceptibly he could have imagined it, Caellum stepped into her presence, casting a shadow across her face. Her bright eyes darkened, though not from the shadow but from a look in her eyes that felt all too familiar. A look of pain caused by those who are supposed to love you. Caellum slowly raised his hand, grazing his thumb across her cheek to inspect the forming bruise.
When she winced, Caellum’s heart cracked, reminded of every memory where he flinched beneath Aurelia’s touch whenever she tended to the consequences of their father’s anger.
“Sir Cain, could you please retrieve some ice and cloth?” murmured Caellum, never taking his eyes from Sadira. Shared pain ebbed between them as he connected the puzzle pieces. Only one person would hurt Sadira, that she would try to protect. Caellum’s nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched, failing to hide his thoughts about the fallen queen. No matter how he felt toward Soren, she was Sadira’s sister.
“Tell me where you want to go?” he whispered, moving his hand from her cheek to her hair. He stroked it softly as her scent enveloped him—rose, sugar, and morning dew. Sadira blinked, but Caellum did not rush her thoughts.
“The walled garden,” she whispered. Caellum stepped back and offered his arm. She silently took it, the pearl-lined sleeves of her dress catching on the golden thread of his emerald jacket, tying them together.
Caellum did not press Sadira further as they strode alongside the worn stone wall toward the garden in synchronised steps. He did not know enough about her relationship with Soren to pass judgement on the matter, not without hearing the truth from her lips.
As they approached the archway to the walled garden, Caellum reached to brush the tangled wisteria aside but halted as Sadira waved her hand. The branches and vines uncoiled, twisting and changing until they framed the archway and trailed along thewalls in perfect formation. He smiled at Sadira, who blushed. As they entered the gardens, laughter halted their footsteps as they spotted a group of servants whispering in excited tones beneath the willow trees, skipping whatever duties they should attend to. Sadira’s hand tightened around his arm. She wished to be alone. Caellum’s heartbeat quickened as he glanced at the locked wooden door, the door that had remained locked since the day he broke his own heart. It was their only option of privacy. Catching the gardener’s eye, Caellum inclined his head to the door that stood alone amongst empty flowerbeds once filled with sweet peas.
“No, Caellum—”
“Please. I want you to be comfortable,” he reassured Sadira, whose eyes brimmed with concern.
“But not at the sacrifice of your own pain,” she said. Caellum clasped her hand and squeezed it gently before steering her toward the door. The gardener unlocked it, unknowingly freeing the pain of Caellum’s heart to allow entry for another’s.
The scent of endless sweet peas suffocated him as he crossed the threshold. Behind the locked door of the walled garden, where he had only ever taken Elisara, sat a large glistening turquoise pond, surrounded by thousands of sweet peas in every colour imaginable: an oasis of colour shaded by a large willow tree at the pond’s edge. Tears pricked his eyes, and he blinked them back, clearing his throat as he guided Sadira through and closed the door behind them, trapping the pair within a shrine to his heartbreak.
“Caellum.” Sadira’s voice broke, yet when he peered down at her, her pain was for him. She gazed at the scene before them while he guided Sadira to the spot beneath the tree. They sat on the small patch of grass devoid of flowers, worn from the times he had sat there with another. Caellum remained quiet, allowing Sadira to process her thoughts as she took in the scenery. She pulled her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs.
“I did not consider that Sir Cain would not find us here,” said Caellum, voicing his mistake. Sadira tilted her head to rest heruninjured cheek on her knee and smiled softly. Where she traced her fingertips over the ground between them, several plants grew. She reached for a dark plant with rigid leaves and cracked one in half, releasing clear liquid. She placed it beside a flower with a large, yellow centre and a dark moss-like plant. Caellum did not recognise such specimens and wondered how many Sadira had catalogued in her mind. Her shoulders relaxed as her fingers trailed over each.
“If you can grind the yellow pollen of this plant”—she gestured to it— “The liquid in the leaves of this one and the sponge-like parts of these.” She plucked at the mossy plant as she spoke. “They will turn into a paste that, when rubbed into the skin, provides a cooling effect.” Sadira turned to gaze at the pond, surrendering to silence again. Caellum quietly set to work; he pulled bark from the tree and ground the gatherings until forming a pale green mixture.
“May I?” he asked hesitantly. Sadira turned her head back to him and nodded, closing her eyes. He gently brushed away a small tear trailing her cheek while her lips quivered. Remembering the times he cared for his sisters, Caellum gently rubbed the mixture into Sadira’s skin, which felt so delicate under his rough fingertips. She did not wince this time but leaned into his touch.
“It has never happened before,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “It won’t happen again.” The slight rise of her tone gave away her uncertainty as Caellum finished rubbing the mixture into her cheek, her skin having cooled already.
“I once said the same.” Caellum swallowed. Sadira opened her eyes then, the vulnerability in her gaze matching his as they watched one another. “It was not the only time,” and with that, she fell apart. Her face crumpled, and sobs escaped her. She buried her head in the fabric of her dress, and Caellum instinctively reached for her, pulling her close beneath his arm and allowing her to cry into the dip of his shoulder. Locked in their embrace, he focused on the ragged rise and fall of her chest instead of Soren’s face. He shoved away thoughts about punishing the fallen queen andexiling her from these lands.
Only when the afternoon was long past did Sadira finally lift her head. Caellum kept his arms around her, and she did not protest.
“Do you know what sweet peas symbolise?” she asked.
He swallowed hard. “I have never thought about it.” But as he considered it, he supposed the flowers had always symbolised the innocence of his love for Elisara and the first moments they had truly fallen for one another. Sadira plucked one from the ground and twirled it in her hand.
“Flowers symbolise many things, depending on who you ask or what you read. Sweet peas can represent blissful pleasure and friendship.” She glanced sideways at him. “They can also symbolise betrayal and goodbyes.”Accurate,he thought as he stared across the field of flowers. It was all he saw then: a reminder of his betrayal and a goodbye to his first and only love.
“I think I would like to say farewell to this flower,” he murmured before facing Sadira. “What is a flower that represents new beginnings?”
Joy returned to her bright green gaze, which glowed as her power bloomed. Shifting from his hold, she shook her hair behind her and placed her palms amongst the stems. A smile broke free as a ripple effect ensued. The sweet peas slowly withered, and in their place grew new flowers—thousands of white petals filling the space. He reached for one and plucked it from the ground, examining the delicate three petals. She shuffled back and sat opposite him, crossing her legs.
“Irises,” she said, running her fingers through her creation. “They symbolise hope and new beginnings but can also represent a new outlook on life—” When she paused, Caellum drew his eyes from the flower to the princess before him. “—or a change of heart.” Sadira peered up at him, and he could have sworn she blushed.
“Some might say you have had the newest beginnings of them all.” Caellum plucked an iris and tucked it behind her ear. “Perhapsnow is a chance to make new friends and find others to lean on.”
Sadira sniffed. “Who would wish to befriend a princess absent from her homelands for so long? Nobody knows me.”
Caellum frowned in thought. “Perhaps Queen Larelle?” he suggested. “She is kind and understanding and has experienced life far from what she now knows. She will likely understand your troubles better than I.” He hoped Sadira would consider it. She nodded.
“Although I am in a new place, my situation remains mostly the same,” she sighed.
“Soren?” he asked, and Sadira nodded.
