CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

                                    

                                          



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"Full sail!"


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Hera stood on the deck, staring out at the endless sea, her loose chemise billowing in the gentle breeze. The moon hung high, casting a soft glow over the waters, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside her. Her curls, wild and untamed, whipped around her face as she tried to find solace in the quiet of the night.



"Can't sleep?" A voice broke through her thoughts. Hera turned to see Caspian approaching from the shadows, his brows furrowed in that way that always made her heart skip a beat. He was concerned, and for a fleeting moment, she found it endearing.



"Mmhm... You too?" she asked. She watched as Caspian moved closer, his presence both comforting and unsettling.



"My mind refuses to let me rest," he admitted, placing his hands on the railing beside hers. There was something in his tone that made her feel like he was searching for something—perhaps the same peace she sought.



"Me too. Nightmares visited me again," Hera confessed, her voice softer than she intended. When she glanced at Caspian, she noticed the worry deepening in his eyes, and she almost smiled at the sight of it. Almost.



"Again? What of?" His concern was palpable, and it tugged at something deep within her. again with these feelings.



"Memories from before I came here. Horrid memories, but nothing that can truly frighten me," she replied with a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease his worry. But she knew better than to believe her own words. The memories haunted her, not because of their horror, but because they reminded her of everything that had happened. Caspian turned fully towards her, his eyes searching her face. 



"Something truly happened in your world. The bruises, the way your hands tremble... they're proof enough."



Hera's eyes widened at his words. Did she really look so fragile when they first met? Had she been so worn down?



"And look what happened," Caspian continued, his voice thick with regret. 



"You were dishonored, despite everyone knowing your station—"



"—Caspian, nothing happened to me afterward," she interrupted, her tone firm. 




"I won't lie—they tried, but I kicked their bollocks before they could lay a hand on me."



"But it shouldn't have happened at all. I'm a King—your safety should have been mine to guarantee." His jaw clenched, and he looked away, guilt and frustration etched into his features. 



Hera's chest tightened at his words. Did he think she was weak? That she needed protection? A surge of disappointment flickered within her, mingling with a spark of defiance. 





"I'm no damsel in distress, Caspian. You know that better than anyone. I don't need you to guarantee my safety." 



"It's not you that I deem weak, Hera," Caspian said, his voice trembling with emotion as he turned to face her fully. 



"It's me. I'm the weak one. I should have fought harder. This is my fault... I'm sorry..." Hera's hardened gaze softened as she saw the sadness and guilt in his eyes—the same emotions he had worn the day they returned from the failed raid at Miraz's castle. Without thinking, she reached out and grasped his hand, her touch gentle yet firm.