Chapter 38 - An Anchor in the Night
The evening stretched quiet around them, the hum of the café fading into the background as though the world had pulled back to make space for their conversation. Alena could feel her heart in her throat, the weight of Devon’s question pressing closer than she expected. She pulled back slightly when his face leaned closer, the heat in her cheeks rushing in all at once. Her fingers tightened around her cup, fidgeting with the rim like it might give her courage. For a heartbeat she dared to meet his eyes again, piercing blue, steady and unshaken, and then she looked away just as quickly, because gods above, he was far too gorgeous up close.
“Promise you won’t be weirded out if I tell you?” she asked in a small, sheepish voice.
Devon’s brows lifted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Weirded out? Alena, it takes a lot for me to think something’s weird.”
She gave a nervous laugh, her thumb tracing the edge of her cup. “Well… you know how most warlocks are known to make deals with their patrons? How some of them go searching for power, or… bargain for it?”
Devon nodded, his expression attentive.
“I didn’t,” she said quietly, her shoulders rising and falling in a helpless shrug. “I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t seek anything out. It was almost like…” She hesitated, glancing at him, then back at the cup in her hands. “Almost like my patron found me. Like it decided I was a warlock before I ever agreed to be one. By chance. By fate. I don’t even know what to call it.”
Devon leaned back in his chair, blue eyes never leaving her. There was no mockery there, no dismissal. If anything, he looked… intrigued. One hand tapped idly against his teacup, thoughtful. “That,” he said slowly, “is interesting.”
His voice was steady, thoughtful, but his eyes were sharp with curiosity. “So what did it feel like, when it happened? The moment it found you?”
Alena’s fingers tightened around her cup again. She let out a nervous breath, as though she’d been waiting for someone to ask her that very question for years. “For the longest time, I didn’t even know who or what it was. I didn’t know the name Acamar. I didn’t know anything.” She shook her head, a rueful smile tugging faintly at her lips. “I had to do my own research, digging through scraps of texts and odd references. And even then… there’s almost nothing written about it in the places I searched. It’s like chasing a shadow. A void.”
Devon’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I’ve learned to use my magic over time, just… fumbling my way through. And it’s not like it speaks to me much. In fact—” Her hands shifted, gripping her teacup harder, knuckles pale. “I very, very rarely hear from it. Sometimes I go so long without a whisper that I forget I’m even a warlock. I feel almost… ordinary.”
She swallowed, her voice softening until it was barely audible. "The last time I heard Acamar was that night, the night I was attacked." Her eyes flicked up at him quickly, then back down, ashamed of how her words trembled. "Before that, it had been years of silence. And then suddenly, just like when I was a girl, it was there again, reminding me that it has linked itself to my mind without my consent, that I never had a choice."
For the first time, Devon didn’t look intrigued. His expression shifted, the teasing curve of his mouth gone, replaced by something else entirely. Concern. His blue eyes softened as they searched her face, as though weighing just how much weight she’d been carrying alone.
“Alena…” His voice was quiet now, stripped of the usual levity. “Have you told Caelan any of this?”
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. “No,” she blurted, the word sharper than she meant. She ducked her gaze again, fingers tightening around her cup. “I couldn’t. He already does so much for me. And what would I even say? That a star decided to crawl into my mind without asking? That sometimes I forget it’s even there until it reminds me that I never had a choice?” She shook her head quickly. “He’d probably think I was broken.”
Devon let out a slow breath, his tone gentler now. “He wouldn’t think that. Trust me, Caelan isn’t the sort of man who walks away from something like this. He’s already doing what he can to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, even if he doesn’t outright say it.”
Her lips pressed together, the faintest tremor running through her shoulders. For a moment she looked like she might argue, but then the fight drained from her. She stared down into her tea, lashes low, as though quietly admitting he might be right. Devon leaned forward slightly, his voice softer, steady. “If I were in Caelan’s shoes, that’s what I would want most. To know, so I could actually protect you properly. And Alena, within this group of ours, we don’t let each other shoulder heavy burdens alone. Not if we can help it.”
Her eyes flicked up at him, uncertainty and something like hope warring in her gaze.
“When I have the time, I’ll help look into Acamar too,” he continued, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “But you have to promise me something. Promise me you’ll try your best to find the courage to share your burden with Caelan. So you don’t have to figure it all out on your own anymore.”
For a long moment she just sat there, cup cradled in both hands, breathing uneven. Then she gave the smallest of nods, her lips pressed together but her eyes shimmering faintly with unshed feeling.
Devon reached across the table, his hand settling lightly over hers. The warmth of his touch steadied her, and when she dared glance up, his blue eyes were kind, steady. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out together. In the meantime, focus on your beloved romance novels, hm? That way you can recommend some more to me.”
Her mouth fell open in surprise at the playful shift, and before she could answer, his hand lifted to pat her head gently. His laugh rang boyish, bright, breaking the heaviness of the moment. Alena’s heart skipped a beat, then another. Her face flushed hot, ears burning as she ducked her head, trying in vain to hide it.
Devon leaned back, grinning as if he hadn’t just unravelled her composure with the simplest of gestures. “Come on,” he said, reaching for his coat. “I’ll walk you back to Caelan’s.” The two of them left the café together, the quiet weight of her confession softened now by the warmth of his company.
Alena slipped back into Caelan’s apartment, the comfort of familiar walls settling around her after a long day out. She freshened up and joined him for a simple dinner, steady and grounding. For a time, she let herself pretend the world outside could wait. Afterwards, as she began to clear the table, Caelan set a small bundle beside her. “Some of my men dropped this off earlier. Letters and parcels from your place.”
Alena brightened faintly as she thumbed through the stack, until her eyes caught a familiar script. She opened the envelope quickly, scanning the words. Halfway through, her shoulders slumped. Her sigh was small but heavy, escaping before she could catch it.
Caelan, still seated, glanced over. “Something wrong?”
She folded the letter halfway, forcing a brittle smile. “No, it’s fine.”
His eyes lingered on her face, quiet and steady. “You sure?”
Alena laughed lightly, hoping it sounded convincing. “Yes. Really.”
He studied her a moment longer, then came around the table. Instead of pressing further from a distance, he bent slightly until his face was level with hers. His eyes searched her expression, steady and unshaken. “What is it?” he asked quietly. “What’s making you look like you’re about to cry?”
Alena startled at the sudden closeness, her breath catching. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze quickly, fumbling with the edge of the letter as though it might shield her. “It’s nothing,” she insisted, her laugh thin and unconvincing. “Just family things again.”
His brow furrowed, unconvinced. For a moment he lingered there, so close she could feel the weight of his presence, then he straightened. “Sit on the couch,” he said, firm but kind. “I’ll bring tea.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I’ll bring tea,” he repeated, with a gentle smile on his face.
Her lips pressed together. After a beat, she relented, rising quickly, as if the distance might steady her pounding heart. She crossed to the couch, but even there, the tension in her shoulders would not ease. By the time he returned, a tray balanced in his hands, she had curled in on herself slightly, fingers worrying the folded letter. He set two steaming cups on the low table and sat beside her, his voice softer than before.
“Now,” he said, “tell me what’s weighing on you.”
The words struck something in her, soft and unguarded. Her lips trembled, her eyes watering as she tried to turn away. “I hate this,” she whispered. “I hate that something like this can ruin my night after such a lovely day.”
She lifted the letter again, fingers tightening around it. “My brother had a small accident. Nothing serious, but it means he can’t work part-time for a while. He needs money for his schoolbooks. So they asked me again. And of course I’ll send it. Of course I will.” Her voice cracked. “But part of me… part of me wants to keep what I earn for myself. Just once. To breathe, to buy something I want. And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because they’re my family. They need me.”
She stopped, knuckles pale around the paper. Her breath hitched before she forced herself to go on. “My father passed a while back. Ever since, it’s been me. A couple of years now, and yet it still gets to me. I feel childish, thinking it’s unfair, but it is. I wasn’t prepared to carry this. My life was comfortable before, quaint even. And then suddenly, I had to step into his place, make sure they were provided for. I know it’s normal. Every family has someone. It just… fell on me.”
Her eyes blurred, her voice thick with quiet shame. “I don’t blame my brothers. Truly, I don’t. But sometimes I wonder what life would be like if we could split it all between us. The bills, the living costs, everything. Instead of it always being me, because I happen to earn the most.”
The silence stretched. She blinked hard, trying to force back tears, afraid of how raw she sounded.
Caelan’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable but warm. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “You are allowed to feel conflicted. Wanting to care for them and wanting something for yourself does not make you selfish. It makes you human. Anyone else in your place could have given up long ago. But not you.”
Her breath caught, a sob slipping past before she could stifle it.
He looked at her more steadily still. “I cannot promise the world will ever feel fair. But I can promise you this. You do not have to figure it out alone anymore. Not while you are here. Not with me. And if we can’t figure it out, I’ll at least just sit here with you till you feel better.”
The words broke something in her. She turned her face, tears spilling freely now. Without thinking, she leaned into him, her shoulder brushing against his arm as the weight of her worries slipped loose at last. Silent tears traced down her cheeks, the kind that came from holding too much for too long. She felt him shift, steady and unhurried. His arm lifted, curving over her shoulders, guiding her closer until her temple rested lightly against his chest. His hand settled gently in her hair, patting once, then again, a quiet rhythm that said what words did not: it’s alright, let it out.
Her voice wavered in the hush between them, fragile and small. “Thank you.”
Caelan said nothing, his presence answering for him. He simply held her as she cried, an anchor against the night, while the untouched cups of tea cooled on the table and the world beyond the window fell into silence.
Alena’s thoughts stirred in the quiet. Maybe Devon had been right. Caelan would not judge her. He was simply, genuinely protective and kind. Perhaps someday she might even tell him about her patron, and they could try to work out a solution together. For now, she only felt grateful. Grateful to have ended up here, in this unexpected arrangement, with someone so steady at her side. Someone who was compassionate enough to be there when she needed it most.