Chapter 30 - Love Can Wait
Earlier that evening, just after dinner, the four of them had stepped out into the quiet of the street, the lanternlight casting a warm glow across the cobblestones. The air held the scent of river mist and citrus, softened by the hush that came with nightfall. Gideon and Neia lingered a touch closer than before, something unspoken resting between them after the meal. Caelan noticed, though he said nothing. His attention, instead, shifted to the quiet woman standing beside him. Alena, who glanced up as she adjusted the strap of her satchel.
Caelan turned toward Alena, who had stepped slightly aside, as if unsure whether she should already start her walk home.
“Which way are you headed?” he asked, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves.
Alena glanced up at him. “I live just past the city gates, near Highcourt. Technically the outskirts.”
Caelan tilted his head. “That far out?”
She gave a small shrug. “It’s quiet. I like it.”
“I live in Highcourt,” he said after a moment, “northern side.”
Alena blinked. “Oh.” Her expression flickered with surprise, then settled into a sheepish smile. “Well… I suppose that makes sense.”
He looked at her, a brow slightly raised. “Why’s that?”
She hesitated, then gave a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, you're you. Commander Caelan Thorne. I’ve heard people talk. That kind of role, your background, your family… I imagine Highcourt suits you.”
“Depends on the day,” he replied dryly. “And the paperwork.”
She laughed again, a little more warmly this time.
They continued walking side by side, the streets growing quieter with each block they passed. The glow of the main roads faded behind them, replaced by the dim flicker of lanterns and the soft sound of their footsteps on stone.
“I think Neia and Gideon would make a wonderful couple,” Alena said suddenly, the thought slipping out like a secret she hadn’t meant to share.
Caelan gave a thoughtful hum. “Gideon doesn’t talk much about that sort of thing. But I suppose… he does seem more relaxed around her.”
Alena smiled. “You can tell when someone makes someone else feel safe. It’s like you can see it in the way they move.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” she said, nodding gently. “It's in the little things. The pauses, the glances, the warmth. I know it sounds silly.”
Caelan looked ahead. “Not silly. Just… maybe a bit optimistic.”
She chuckled, not unkindly. “That’s fair. I am a bit of a romantic.”
He smirked faintly. “A bit?”
She tilted her head and gave him a mock-offended look. “Alright, more than a bit. But what's so wrong about wanting a little bit of magic in your life?”
“Nothing,” he said slowly. “As long as you remember life rarely plays out like a novel.”
Alena looked down at the street, smiling to herself. “Maybe. But I like to believe that sometimes, just sometimes, it can.”
Caelan glanced at her, his tone even. “Perhaps for some people, it can. Not everyone, though.”
She looked up at him. “And do you think you’re one of the ‘not everyone’ people?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Mm.”
That surprised her more than she expected. “You really think that? That you’re not meant for it?”
“I don’t think it’s about being ‘meant’ for anything,” he said, voice calm, matter-of-fact. “I’m just... busy. My duties come first. I have a position that demands my full attention. And eventually, I’ll need to make sure my parents are well looked after. My time isn’t exactly my own.”
Alena’s steps slowed slightly. Her expression softened, though she didn’t say anything right away. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward, but reflective.
“That’s a heavy way to live,” she said finally, her voice quieter now.
“It’s not a complaint,” Caelan replied. “Just the way things are.”
She nodded slowly, then gave a small smile, wistful, but certain. “Even so... I still believe I’ll find someone. One day.”
He glanced sideways at her, his expression unreadable.
“I don’t know how or when,” she added. “But I want to believe that my heart will know when it’s right. That there’s someone out there who’ll love me not despite who I am, but because of it.”
She looked ahead again, the lanternlight catching the soft gold in her hair. Caelan said nothing this time. But unlike before, it wasn’t because he had nothing to say. It was because, for a fleeting second, something in her words had unsettled him. Not in a bad way, but in a way he hadn’t expected.
They passed under the soft glow of another streetlamp, the cobbled road growing quieter as the bustle of the town centre fell away behind them. Up ahead, the towers and ornate windows of Highcourt Ward began to appear between the trees. Tall, elegant buildings with flowering balconies and carved stone facades.
As they reached a narrow corner where the hill crested, Caelan slowed his pace slightly and motioned toward a handsome building on the left. “That’s me,” he said, nodding toward the front gates. “Home.”
Alena blinked, eyes drifting to the polished brass signage. The building stood with a quiet sort of grandeur. Clearly expensive, but not showy.
“I knew it,” she said, half-teasing. “You look like someone who lives somewhere with actual marble steps.”
Caelan chuckled faintly. “Perks of the job. And I like the quiet.”
Alena smiled, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear. “It’s nice. Looks peaceful.”
He hesitated for a moment, then turned to her. “You said you live out past the gates, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “Just a little farther. On the outskirts.”
Caelan glanced down the dimly lit path ahead. The trams had stopped for the night. Few people were still out at this hour.
“It’s a bit of a walk,” he said.
“I don’t mind.”
“You’ll let me walk you the rest of the way,” he said, not really phrasing it as a question. “I’ll feel better knowing you got home safe.”
Alena’s brows lifted slightly, touched by the gesture. “Are you sure? It’s late, and I can manage—”
“I’m sure,” Caelan said, already beginning to walk again. “Besides, I have nothing else planned tonight.”
Something about the way he said it — calm, reliable, protective — made her smile. She adjusted the strap of her satchel and fell into step beside him once more. “Then I’ll take you up on that,” she said gently. “Thank you.”
Their steps echoed in soft rhythm, the road narrowing slightly as they moved further from the central wards. Overhead, the stars were beginning to peek through the clouds, and the city lights grew dimmer, replaced by the flicker of lanterns in quiet windows.
And for a while, neither of them said anything. But it wasn’t silence in the lonely sense.
They turned down the final lane in silence, the city thinning around them into quieter homes tucked behind ivy-covered walls and sloping hedges. The moon had crept higher, casting a silver gloss over cobbled stone and softly rustling trees. It was Alena who broke the silence first.
“You seem really different from Gideon,” she said, eyes still forward. “Not in a bad way. Just... very different.”
Caelan hummed, a small sound of acknowledgment. “We’re opposites in more ways than one.”
“I can see that,” she said with a gentle smile. “But I think that’s a good thing. It must make things more interesting.”
As they rounded the final corner, her cottage came into view. Small and tidy, its roof dipped low in a gentle slope. Lantern light spilled softly from one window, casting long shadows across the short garden path lined with potted herbs and a weathered bench.
Caelan slowed to a stop, his brow lifting faintly. “That’s yours?”
Alena nodded.
He let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. “It’s... very quaint. And frankly, quite adorable.”
Alena flushed just a little and glanced at her boots. “I try to make it feel like home. Somewhere I’d want to return to at the end of the day.”
Caelan tilted his head, considering that. “That’s a good mindset to have.”
She looked up at him then, her smile softer than before. “Thank you for accompanying me.”
“Of course.”
Alena paused at her door, her hand resting lightly on the knob before she turned back to him. Her voice was quiet, but certain.
“I hope you find it one day, you know. True love. I think a fine man like you deserves that. Even if you don’t believe it yet.”
There was nothing teasing in her tone. No dramatic swell of romantic longing. Just a simple truth from someone who still believed in those kinds of things.
Caelan blinked, momentarily unsure what to say.
Alena smiled, gave a small wave, and stepped inside.
He lingered for a moment, watching as the door clicked gently shut behind her, the light inside spilling warmly through the windowpanes. A fine man, she’d called him. He shook his head, bemused, and turned toward the path back to Highcourt.
Later that evening, Alena stood in the quiet of her cottage, fingers brushing the spines of her books as she smiled softly to herself. What a lovely day it had been. She had watched a love story gently unfold in real time, had laughed over tea with new friends, and had walked home under lanternlight with a man whose presence, while unexpected, had not been unwelcome.
It felt like the kind of day that should end with a candle lit beside her armchair, a steaming cup of tea in hand, and a romance novel opened to its first page. She thought of reaching for one now. Maybe The Masquerade at Rosewater Hall. Or Letters Beneath the Willow Tree.
After her shower, still towel-drying the ends of her hair, she padded barefoot toward the kitchen in search of tea. But just as she passed the front door, something caught her eye. A letter. Slipped beneath the threshold, likely missed when she returned home earlier.
She bent to pick it up, the handwriting already familiar. Her smile faded. It was from home. For a moment, she only stared at it, as if delaying the inevitable might change its contents. Then, with a quiet breath, she opened it.
The message was simple, predictable. Her mother’s handwriting, neat but brisk, filling only one side of the parchment. There had been some unexpected bills this month, and her older brother’s wages weren’t enough to cover everything. Could Alena please send what she could spare?
Of course, she would. She always did.
She folded the letter carefully and set it on the kitchen counter, resting her hand on it for a moment longer than necessary. She had been saving this month’s pay for a new dress. Something soft and green, maybe, to match her eyes. And perhaps one or two more books to fill the quiet on her shelves. But those could wait. They always did.
Alena smiled, small and sad, and looked around her little kitchen, the kettle still waiting to be filled.
“I just wish,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, “someone would look out for me the way I look out for them.”
Her voice barely stirred the silence. She tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear and turned toward the stove. The tea could wait a little longer.
How lovely it must be, she thought, to be loved and protected simply for existing. Not for what she could provide. Not for what she could do. But just... for being.