So, when Alora woke to the patter of water dripping through the roof and striking the hearthstones below, she was determined to fix it herself.
With a huff of determination, Alora stepped out into the pale morning light and dragged the old ladder from the shed. The rainstorm last night had disturbed the thatch. Nothing she couldn’t mend.
She climbed up to the top, wind tousling her hair. But when she stepped on a loose bundle, her foot slipped.
The world lurched.
Alora barely had time to scream before she fell backward off the roof. Strong arms caught her mid-fall. Rune grunted beneath the impact. She clung to him, breathless, heart racing.
“Rune!” she gasped, laughing.
“You are becoming a menace to gravity, songbird,” he smiled lightly, but it didn’t disguise his wince.
And she smelled smoke.
Alora stepped back, looking him over. The back of his dark coat was scorched. The skin at his nape and cheek blistered, angry and red, as though he had reached through flame.
“By the Seven, you’re hurt!”
“It’s nothing.” He rushed them inside the cottage, drawing the curtains closed. “Merely a small burn.”
Alora followed, seizing his hand before he could retreat. “This is no small burn, Rune. Please sit. Let me see it.”
Guiding him to the small dining table, she helped him remove his coat. He hissed faintly as she unveiled the burns on his back.
“By the Seven.” She covered her mouth and rushed to grab bandages and ointment. “Who did this to you?”
Rune’s gaze flicked away, jaw tightening. He didn’t move as she gently cleaned the wounds and dressed them.
“My father…” Rune sighed. “I failed to meet his approval.”
“So, he burned you for it?” Alora demanded angrily. He must have returned home to properly denounce his title.
Rune’s gaze grew distant as he glanced at the window. “I occasionally wonder why he let me live.”
Her anger softened into something else. Something aching. The worst her father had done was send her away.
“You never speak of your home,” Alora said quietly.
“There is little to say.” Rune gave a thin smile. “I have no family. No banner. No kingdom that would claim me.” His gaze lowered to the bloody bandages on the table. “I have long lost my home, Alora.”
She knew that pain well.
Her home was gone the moment her mother died. Argyle had never wanted her. The Midlands had only tolerated her. She had learned to make herself small inside borrowed walls.
But she would carve out home for herself now.
Alora stepped close and cupped his face between her palms. He went utterly still beneath her touch, his breath halting.
“Then you will have one here with me,” she murmured.
Rune’s eyes softened, leaving something raw beneath.
“I…” His throat worked. “I was cast out for due reason, Alora.”
She searched his face, seeing a prince with shadows in his features. As lost and untethered as she was.
“Rune,” Alora said gently. “Whatever you did, whatever condemned you, I care not. You will always have a home… with me.”
