Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Emily woke to warmth.

Sunlight slanted through the shattered window, brushing over tangled sheets and bare skin. The room around her was calm—quiet. Must have been the only one in the house that hadn't been destroyed.

She stirred slightly, muscles aching in dull pulses, but before she could fully sit up, a familiar weight shifted beside her.

Caelan moved without hesitation.

He rolled smoothly on top of her, his body pressing her back into the mattress. His hands framed her face with reverent urgency, his thumb brushing her cheek as he kissed her hard.

The heat was instant—sharp, consuming.

Emily’s breath caught, and then she was kissing him back, her hands sliding over his back, pulling him closer, deeper. His mouth moved like he meant to brand her with it—desperate and controlled all at once.

But then, gradually, the kiss softened.

His lips slowed.

Gentler now.

He kissed her once more—then again, lightly this time, and rested his forehead against hers.

“We should get up,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “We need to get back to Viremoor.”

Emily smiled, still catching her breath. Her arms tightened around his shoulders. “Are you sure?”

His chest rumbled with a soft sound—half groan, half laugh—as she pulled him back into another kiss. They rolled lazily, half-tangled in each other again, until it dissolved into teasing and warm laughter.

Eventually, they climbed out of bed.

Emily stood by the edge, brushing her hair out of her face as she looked down at herself—scattered bruises along her ribs and across her arms and thighs. She turned slowly toward the mirror above the dresser.

“How did I not feel these last night?” she muttered.

Caelan crossed the room shirtless, his movements fluid and quiet. He stopped in front of her, tilted her chin up, and kissed her gently.

“Because” he said against her lips, “you were thoroughly distracted.”

He stepped back, letting her finish dressing—but his gaze didn’t stray. Not once.

He just stood there.

Watching her.

Smiling.

Emily finished getting dressed. Caelan left to get water so Emily could finally get the blood out of her hair. When she was done they stepped into the hallway.

The floorboards creaked faintly under her weight. Caelan followed behind her, silent as ever, his presence like a shadow trailing hers. The upstairs hallway stretched —two doors at the far end. One left. One right.

She walked down and glanced into the room on the left.

Recognition hit immediately.

“This was the one,” she murmured.

The place she, Varis, and Tess had first hidden.

The door was mostly gone—splintered at the hinges. And just beyond the threshold, the right-hand wall bore a clear, horrifying imprint. Like someone had been slammed into it hard enough to leave a shape. The dresser she’d thrown still leaned half-toppled against that mark, dented inward where something—or someone—had been crushed.

Emily turned toward Caelan, her expression unreadable. “What happened to them? The cultists, I mean.”

Caelan stepped beside her, pointing to the wall without emotion. “This one was already dead when I got here. Same with the big one in the other room.”

Her head reeled.

Dead.

She had killed someone.

Emily’s stomach turned. She’d seen death before—she was in medicine, after all—but that was different. That was trying to stop death. Not… deliver it.

“I killed someone,” she said quietly. Not to Caelan. Not really. More like an echo of disbelief out loud.

But the weight of it was heavy and cold.

Still, she pushed it down—shoved it deep.

Later.

Caelan mentioned the other room, and Emily turned fully around. Just to her right was the hallway that led back to the intact bedroom. The stairs were to her left now. A wide window beyond them spilled light into the space.

Directly ahead—the master bedroom.

She recognized the door instantly.

A human-shaped hole fractured its wooden frame, splintered at shoulder height. Her eyes traced it without comment.

She stepped inside.

The room was an absolute disaster. Furniture lay in ruins. The bedframe had been thrown against the far wall, one leg twisted completely off. Slashes and scorch marks marred the floorboards and walls. It looked like a warzone.

Emily turned to Caelan. “What about the others?”

He followed her in, stepping carefully around a jagged piece of shattered chair. “One was still alive when we arrived. We captured him. For questioning.”

She nodded slowly.

Caelan went on. “The two downstairs—well, the woman woke up when I got here and tried to fight. She didn’t last long. The other one—the boy—he ran.”

Emily processed that. “So… three dead, one captured, one escaped?”

“Yeah,” Caelan said.

Emily took a slow step forward and turned her head toward the open doorway of the bathroom.

And stopped dead.

“Oh.”

She thought this room had been bad but that one looked like a bomb went off.

Chunks of the ceiling had collapsed, exposing blue sky through fractured beams. One wall was gone—just… gone. The floor was scattered with what remained of the fixtures: the sink, the shattered toilet, a cracked cabinet all smashed into a twisted pile at the far end.

At the bottom of that pile…

A hand. Gray and stiff. Sticking out.

Emily stared.

Her mouth fell open slightly. “Is he… are you sure he’s dead?”

“Yeah,” Caelan said behind her. “I checked. He’s dead.”

Emily turned to him, brows drawn. “Then why didn’t you guys move him?”

Caelan shrugged slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were kind of focused on you. Getting you stable, getting Tess safe. I guess we just… forgot.”

“Forgot,” she repeated flatly.

“We’ll have to take him before we leave.”

“Why?” Emily asked quickly.

Caelan met her eyes. “If we leave the body, the Blood Cult will come back for it. They’ll extract what residual power he had left. Even in death, that’s dangerous. We can’t give them that chance.”

Emily stared one last time at the broken bathroom, at the collapsed ceiling, at the hand reaching from rubble—and swallowed hard.

“Right,” she said quietly. “We’ll take him.”

Then she turned back toward the hall, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s go home.”

After a long journey they arrived at Viremoor just as the last of the daylight sank behind the jagged cliffs.

The sky bled deep crimson across the horizon, casting long shadows over the black-stone keep. The royal transport glided soundlessly up the winding path toward the city, and Emily watched the mountains shift around them—harsh, beautiful, cold.

The return journey had been… complicated.

She’d tried. More than once.

Tried to talk about it. About them.

The farmhouse. The bedroom. The way he’d touched her—looked at her like she was something rare and breakable and his.

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But every time she’d brought it up, Caelan had found a way to twist the moment. Sometimes with silence. Sometimes with a well-placed deflection.

And sometimes… with his mouth.

God, he kissed like a man at war—with himself, with her, with whatever restraint he was holding on to. And every time she’d tried to pull him back into conversation, he’d leaned in instead—one hand braced beside her, the other threading into her hair like he owned every strand of it.

It was distracting.

Devastatingly so.

And she wasn’t exactly resisting.

But the silence between those moments still lingered. He hadn’t answered anything. Not really.

Not what it meant.

Not what she was to him now.

And Emily wasn’t sure which was worse—his refusal to talk, or how easily she let him avoid it.

The transport passed through the illusionary veil at the edge of the city and slipped back into the hidden heart of Viremoor. Stone buildings rose around them, their edges washed in twilight. People passed like shadows beyond the windows.

Home. Or whatever this place was becoming.

The vehicle came to a stop just outside the castle steps, and the doors slid open with a soft sigh.

Emily stared up at the towering keep, heart quietly thudding beneath her ribs.

She still didn’t know where she stood with him.

But she knew one thing for sure:

That night in the farmhouse hadn’t been meaningless.

Not for her.

As Emily stepped out of the transport, the first thing she saw were two familiar shapes waiting just outside the castle doors.

Tess was the first to break into a run—small feet pounding against stone, blonde curls bouncing—and Emily barely had time to brace herself before the little girl flung into her arms with all the force her tiny body could manage.

Emily caught her, laughing breathlessly, and knelt to wrap both arms around her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured

Tess held tighter around Emily’s neck.

Behind her, Varis approached at a calmer pace, but her smile was just as warm.

“Gods,” Emily muttered, pulling Varis into the embrace too. “I'm so glad you guys are okay?”

Varis squeezed her gently. “Us too.”

Just over Emily’s shoulder, Caelan moved past them without a word. He didn’t even glance their way—just strode up the steps and through the front doors, his long coat trailing behind him like smoke.

Emily’s smile faltered as she watched him disappear inside.

Varis followed her gaze, brow furrowing slightly. “Everything alright?” she asked quietly, eyes flicking between them.

Emily blinked and gave a tight smile. “Later,” she said. Her voice was soft but firm.

Then she looked down at Tess again and hugged her tighter, grounding herself in the familiar warmth of small arms and trust.

Varis gave her a longer look, then nodded. “Well… are you hungry? We haven’t had dinner yet. Why don’t you join us?”

Emily exhaled, finally letting her shoulders drop a little and realizing that she was in fact starving. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, please."

She took Tess’s hand in one of hers, and Varis’s arm gently hooked around her other. The castle doors loomed ahead, open and warm with light, but part of her lingered on the shadow that had just disappeared inside.

The dining room was quiet.

Not tense—just… soft. Dimly lit. A gentle contrast to the chaos Emily still felt humming beneath her skin.

She sat beside Tess, who clung to her arm with that same sleepy comfort Emily had seen in the kitchens. Varis sat across from them, her dark green robes a little wrinkled, a faint smudge of ash still clinging to the hem.

Dinner had already been served—root stew, toasted bread, something vaguely sweet steeped in tea—Emily had devoured it.

“So,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “What happened? After I passed out.”

Varis’s expression shifted. Her spoon paused midair, and she slowly set it back in the bowl.

Varis took a breath, glancing briefly at Tess—who was already halfway asleep against Emily’s side—before answering.

“It all happened fast,” she said. “The moment Caelan reached the house, he… it was like something exploded in him. I’ve never seen him move like that before. He went straight for the ones who were still standing.”

Her eyes dropped to her bowl.

“I tried to keep Tess hidden, shielded, but I could still see through the shield. The way he fought—it wasn’t like it usually is. There was no restraint. No distance. He was wild. Furious. I think—” she hesitated. “I think it was because of you.”

Emily blinked, unsure how to respond.

Varis continued. “When he found you… he didn’t even say anything. He just knelt and picked you up like you were something sacred. Carried you out of the wreckage with this look on his face I’ve never seen before.”

Emily’s throat tightened.

Varis looked up at her then, voice softer. “Desperation. That’s the only word I can think of. Like he was silently begging someone—anyone—to fix you. He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until I made him sit down.”

Emily’s mouth parted slightly. “He was hurt?”

Varis gave a small nod. “The bond. Shared pain, remember? He looked… bad, Emily. Like he was being torn open from the inside out. You were so hurt, and it was like he was feeling all of it. And even then, he didn’t care...”

Emily swallowed hard, guilt rising like a tide. She hadn’t even thought of that—hadn’t remembered the bond. She’d been too focused on her own pain, her own panic, to wonder how Caelan had felt.

She looked down at her hands in her lap thinking to herself. “I didn’t even ask if he was okay.”

Emily stared at her untouched food. A hollow ache opened in her chest. How much pain had he been in? How much had he hidden, just to keep going?

She gently smoothed Tess’s hair with one hand, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

Emily cleared her throat, trying to push past the lump still lodged there. “What about the two guards? They’re dead, aren’t they?”

Varis nodded, her expression dimming. “Yeah. They didn’t even have a chance. Completely blindsided.”

Emily’s brows pulled together. “I didn’t even know their names.”

“I didn’t either,” Varis said softly. “But Caelan would. He knows everything about every single one of his guards. Their families, their records, even how they take their tea.”

Emily looked up at that, surprised. “Seriously?”

Varis nodded. “When one of his guards dies during duty, he usually sets up their immediate family. Makes sure they’re housed, fed, supported for the rest of their lives.”

Emily blinked. Her chest tightened again—but this time with something different. Awe. Respect. The kind of emotion that left you quiet for a beat.

“Wow,” she whispered. “That’s… amazing.”

Emily exhaled slowly and glanced down at her half-empty plate. “Did you and Tess get hurt at all?”

Varis shook her head gently. “Not at all. Not even a scratch.”

She reached forward and took Emily’s hand—her grip surprisingly strong. Her gaze locked with Emily’s, steady and bright with emotion.

“Thank you,” Varis said quietly. “Really. Thank you.”

The words hit something deep in Emily’s chest. Not just because they were sincere—but because they carried weight. Trust. Gratitude. Something Emily hadn’t realized she’d been starving for.

She gave Varis a soft smile. “Of course. I never would’ve left you guys.”

Varis held her gaze for a moment longer, then let go and sat back, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

A silence passed between them as the candles flickered in their glass domes. Tess let out a soft little snore and curled closer to Emily’s side.

Then Emily asked, “Do you remember what they said before the fight started?”

Varis looked up slowly, her lips thinning. “How could I forget?”

She lowered her voice to mimic the cultist’s tone—mocking and reverent all at once. “‘She will be our queen. Chosen by blood.”

Emily shivered. “Yeah. Like—what the hell is that supposed to mean? She’s four.”

Varis looked over at Tess, who was now fast asleep, her tiny face buried in Emily’s side.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But they believed it. That much was clear.”

Emily followed her gaze, something cold settling under her ribs.

Emily watched Tess breathe softly, her small shoulders rising and falling with each tiny exhale. Her little fingers were curled into the fabric of Emily’s sleeve.

She looked back at Varis, who was still watching the girl with an unreadable expression. Protective. Thoughtful. Something else, too.

“Varis,” Emily said softly, “can I ask you something… kind of personal?”

Varis blinked, then nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Emily hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Have you ever thought about… keeping her?”

Varis’s eyes widened slightly. “You mean—?”

“Adopting her,” Emily clarified. “I know we’ve been going through all these families. I know you said she deserves more, something stable but I see how she looks at you. Follows you. And I see how you look at her.”

Varis didn’t speak for a long moment. Her throat worked, and her gaze dropped to Tess again.

“I…” she started, then stopped. “I have thought about it. Every day since the night Caelan brought her to us. But I didn’t think I was allowed to want that." She paused.

Emily reached across the table and touched her hand again. “You are. You’d be incredible. And she clearly already sees you as hers.”

Varis looked up at her, eyes shining faintly.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Varis looked down again, but this time, a soft, gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she watched Tess sleep. Something had shifted—quiet but profound. Emily could feel it.

After a few peaceful moments, Varis finally turned back toward Emily, her expression shifting from warmth to mild curiosity.

“So,” Varis said gently, “it’s later.”

Emily blinked, momentarily confused. “Later?”

Varis arched an eyebrow meaningfully. “You and Caelan? Earlier you said ‘later.’” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, it’s later. What’s going on there? Did something happen?”

Emily’s stomach did a quick flip. She glanced down, hesitated, then took a deep breath.

“After the fight,” she began softly, choosing her words carefully, “after everyone left, I woke up and… he was there. Taking care of me. And, well…” She paused, then rushed out the next words, barely above a whisper. “One thing led to another, and we had sex.”

She glanced quickly up at Varis, anxious to gauge her reaction.

Varis’s eyes went wide, mouth dropping open slightly. For a long second she just stared, clearly caught between shock and a flood of unspoken questions. Eventually she cleared her throat, composing herself. “Oh… okay,” she finally managed, still visibly processing. “How did that happen?”

Emily shrugged helplessly. “Honestly? I’m not really sure. I guess…it’s been building for a while.”

Varis nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “So what does this mean? For you two, I mean.”

Emily sighed heavily, frustration rising again. “That’s exactly my question. I tried asking him, tried talking about it the whole way back here, but he kept dodging it. He wouldn’t answer me. He just... avoided it.”

Varis frowned slightly, thoughtful. “Sounds like Caelan.”

Emily exhaled sharply, nodding. “Yeah. It’s infuriating.”

Varis watched her closely for another long moment, a subtle expression playing across her face, like she was choosing her words very carefully.

“Do you think he regrets it?” Varis finally asked, voice cautious.

Emily winced slightly, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “That’s what I’m afraid of. He’s been acting like he made some huge mistake. Like it shouldn’t have happened.” Her throat tightened, emotion sneaking up on her again. “Maybe it shouldn’t have.”

Varis frowned deeply, shaking her head. “No—I don’t think that’s true at all.”

Emily glanced up sharply, taken aback by the quiet certainty in Varis’s voice. “What do you mean?”

Varis leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Emily, Caelan is... complicated. You know that better than anyone. But I’ve known him a long time, and one thing I’m sure of is he doesn’t do anything impulsively. If it happened, he meant it. Whether he admits that or not.”

Emily sighed again, frustration softening to something more vulnerable. “Then why won’t he talk about it? Why keep avoiding me?”

Varis smiled faintly, sympathetic. “Because Caelan is terrible at vulnerability. He always has been. He probably thinks he’s protecting you—or himself.”

“From what?”

Varis shrugged gently. “From whatever it is he’s afraid you’ll see if he lets you get too close.”

Emily swallowed hard, the truth in Varis’s words settling uncomfortably in her chest. “He makes it so hard. It’s like he’s pushing me away and pulling me closer at the same time. I can’t keep doing this.”

Varis reached across the table again, squeezing her hand gently. “Then don’t let him. Don’t let him run. He might be powerful, and stubborn, and infuriating—but you matter to him. Probably more than he understands yet.”

Emily smiled weakly, squeezing Varis’s hand in return. “How’d you get so wise?”

Varis chuckled softly. “Years of practice dealing with emotionally stunted men.”

They both laughed quietly, careful not to wake Tess. It felt good—like a small relief in the tension.

Emily leaned back in her chair, feeling lighter than she had all day. “Thank you, Varis. Seriously.”

Varis’s smile deepened, eyes gentle and warm. “Anytime. You deserve to be happy, Emily. Even if it means dragging Caelan kicking and screaming.”

Emily’s laugh came easier this time. “That part I might actually enjoy.”