Page 38 of The Last Remaining Light

Instead, Caelyn felt as though the world had tilted slightly off its axis because it was he who had changed; he could no longer pretend ignorance toward the thing living beneath his skin.

He stood alone within the eastern courtyard repairing an astrylite lantern whose outer conduit had been corroded by turnings of salt air and winter storms. Sweat darkened the collar of his dark gray tunic; his sleeves rolled carelessly to his forearms while scattered tools rested around him atop a nearby stone.

Usually, he liked this kind of work because it kept his thoughts from running away. Not lately, though. Now, every flicker of astrylite made him wonder if the resonance would suddenly vanish again.

Whenever he felt some sort of emotion, he wondered if the lanterns would dim.

Every true silence dragged him back to the memory of fleeing beside his mother from the first spreading shadows of what was now known as the Dimming Lands.

And worst of all?

When Elowynn looked at him now, he found himself waiting for that fear he’d seen in the undercroft to return.

That was what hurt more than anything else. It was a pain so acute, anytime he thought of it, he felt like someone was shoving another dagger into the center of his chest. He knew that she didn't fear him entirely, but she had become distant. Wary.

Caelyn tightened another brass fitting along the lantern base before leaning back against the stone pillar and wiping his brow. Across the courtyard, he watched young orphans playing a game. They were dancing between strips of shadow and long ribbons of golden sunlight.

And then he spotted Elowynn.

At seventeen turnings, she had become breathtaking in ways that still left him momentarily speechless whenever he looked at her. Dawnfall light caught like molten gold within her lush hair while flowing ivory robes swished elegantly around her as she crossed the courtyard carrying several books hugged to her chest. The sea breeze lifted loose strands around her face and caught on her long ears while sunlight illuminated the delicate Astrari sharpness beginning to define her features more fully with age.

She looked celestial. Divine.

Stars take me, he thought as his chest constricted at the sight of her. He wanted nothing more than to run over and wrap her in his arms, to inhale the herbal scent of her hair. To assure her that he was not dangerous; he was just Caelyn!

But she had been heartbreakingly distant, and he didn't believe that she was doing it intentionally, which somehow made it worse. To know that her very instincts told her to be cautious.

Caelyn saw the exact moment she noticed him.

Her steps slowed, the hesitation lasting no more than a single breath before she continued toward him, though her fingers subtly gripped the books she carried more firmly.

Fear. Caution.

“El,” he greeted as she approached.

His gaze swept over her automatically—quick, thorough. Searching. Even now, after all this time within the safety of the abbey, some part of him still needed to reassure himself that she was unharmed each time he saw her.

“Caelyn,” she replied, stopping two arm’s lengths away.

The sound of his name in her voice eased something painfully tight inside him. Yet the space between them still felt impossibly wide.

For several awkward moments, neither spoke. That had become another problem. Before the undercroft, silence between them had always felt easy and comfortable. Now, every pause seemed full of things neither of them knew how to say aloud.

Elowynn glanced up toward the lantern pylon beside him. “You are repairing the eastern resonance lines?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding.

“Again?”

His mouth curved into a shadow of a smile. “The southern sea air corrodes everything eventually,” he shrugged before tucking his hands in his trouser pockets.

She nodded absently as she kept her attention elsewhere rather than on him.

Caelyn studied her with an intense gaze. “You've barely spoken three words to me in two spans,” he blurted out.

A flicker of guilt crossed her expression, and she whirled toward him. “That is not true.”

He could only frown at this, his chest beginning to hurt.