I stepped into the grand dining hall, my nerves dancing behind the calm facade I tried to project. The long, polished table gleamed under the sunlight streaming through tall windows. The air felt heavy with anticipation, and I found myself hesitating for just a moment before taking a seat beside Callan. It was hard not to feel like an outsider in this grand, foreign place, but I was here now, and there was no turning back
Across from me sat Lena, her gaze sharp, arms crossed in a way that made her seem more imposing than she already was. She had Callan's same dark hair, but while his presence was steady and calming, hers felt like a blade, sharp and unyielding.
"So," she began, her voice smooth but laced with challenge, "the wandering girl finds herself at our table."
I swallowed, feeling the weight of her gaze, but I forced myself to meet it with a calm I didn’t entirely feel. "I didn’t exactly plan to wander," I said, keeping my voice steady. "But I’m grateful to Callan for taking care of me."
"Grateful," she echoed, her eyes narrowing, as if weighing my words. "Let’s see how long that lasts."
Her words stung more than I’d anticipated, but I held my ground, forcing a polite smile even as I felt the weight of her disapproval. Callan shifted beside me, his hand brushing my shoulder briefly—a silent, subtle reassurance. I glanced at him, feeling a hint of warmth at the unexpected gesture. His quiet strength radiated in that moment, and I took a calming breath, grateful for his support.
Their mother, seated at the head of the table, broke the tension with a soft smile. Her eyes were warm, a contrast to Lena’s piercing gaze. "Welcome, dear," she said, her voice like a soothing balm. "I can only imagine how strange this must feel for you. But rest assured, we’re all family here… even if it doesn’t seem that way just yet."
Relief washed over me, and I offered her a grateful smile. "Thank you. I… it’s been a lot to take in."
For a moment, Lena softened, but it was fleeting. She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the food, muttering, "You're lucky my mother doesn't mind having outsiders at her table." Her voice was quieter now, but the words were clear.
I smiled politely, doing my best to ignore the underlying tension. My eyes flickered over to Callan, who was watching the exchange quietly. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes-a subtle mix of protectiveness and wariness. The dynamic between him and his sister was undeniable, and it seemed to stretch across the table like an invisible barrier. I wasn't sure what to make of it yet..
His mother chuckled, glancing at Callan. "Oh, I’m sure my son has been a perfect host. Always serious, always responsible—he was like that even as a child. Always the first to step up whenever there was trouble, even if he didn’t quite know what he was getting into."
I watched Callan's face soften at her words, a flicker of warmth crossing his usually steady gaze. For a moment, he wasn’t just the leader of this hidden kingdom—he was someone’s son, a person who carried memories of childhood and responsibility on his shoulders.
As the conversation continued, Lena abruptly interrupted, fixing me with a sharp gaze. “Do you miss your world?” she asked, her voice not entirely unkind but probing, as though searching for weakness.
Caught off guard, I hesitated. “ ofcourse I do,” I said finally, glancing around the table before meeting Callan’s gaze. “I miss my family. My home.”
His mother’s gaze softened with understanding. “It’s hard, adjusting to new places. Don’t worry, dear. We’ll help you find a way back home,There’s always a way, even in places as remote as ours.”
I gave her a grateful smile, feeling a hint of ease despite the tension. Lena, however, rolled her eyes, though I noticed her expression had softened, if only slightly. Perhaps she was slowly coming to accept my presence, even if grudgingly.
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After lunch, Callan led me through the village, the cobblestone streets alive with the soft hum of everyday life. People bustled around, laughing and chatting, their voices blending with the gentle breeze. This place was so different from my world—quieter, more serene, like something from a forgotten story.
“You’ll find that most people here are humble,” Callan said quietly, as if sharing a treasured secret. “They work together and take care of each other. Life isn’t always easy, but it’s ours.”
I took in the scene around me—stone cottages with overflowing flower boxes, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. It was simple, almost magical in its timelessness. Here, life seemed to move slower, each moment savored rather than rushed.
As we wandered through the market square, vendors called out their wares—brightly colored fabrics, ripe fruits, handmade crafts. The air was filled with laughter, bartering, and the delicious smell of roasted spices. There was no urgency, no rush. The pace of life here was gentle, unhurried, and it captivated me in a way I hadn’t expected.
We kept walking, and as we moved deeper into the village, I realized just how little these people really knew about me, but they treated me with kindness nonetheless. I had no name here, no title. I was just another person, passing through. They didn't see me as a stranger. They just saw me as someone in their midst, for the moment.
"Do they know who I am?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
Callan shook his head, a slight smile playing at his lips. ""Not yet. And that’s for the best—for now, they just think you are traveler."
An older woman selling handcrafted trinkets caught my eye, her gaze lingering on me with quiet curiosity. She beckoned me over with a knowing smile. “A gift,” she said, pressing a small, intricately carved wooden charm into my palm. It was shaped like a bird in flight, delicate yet sturdy. “For safe travels. You seem like someone with a long journey ahead.”
Touched, I thanked her, feeling a warmth settle over me as I held the token. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a tentative welcome.
As we continued our walk, Callan led me to a quieter part of the village. We paused beside an old stone well, shaded by a large, flowering tree. He leaned against the well, looking out over the village with a contemplative expression.
“This is where I used to come when I was younger,” he said, his voice softer, more vulnerable than I’d heard before. “Back then, life was simpler. I didn’t understand everything that would come with leadership.”
I looked at him, sensing the weight of his words. “Do you ever wish things had stayed that way?”
He was silent for a moment, a shadow passing over his face. “Sometimes. But there’s a responsibility that comes with this role—one that I can’t walk away from. The people here…they rely on me.”
His gaze shifted to me, and for a heartbeat, I felt as though he was letting me see a part of himself he rarely showed—a man bound by duty, yes, but also by a deep love for his people. It made my heart ache in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
We continued walking, passing a bakery with the warm scent of fresh bread wafting through the open door. Inside, the baker greeted Callan warmly, and I noticed the respect, even fondness, in his eyes. They exchanged a few words, and it struck me how Callan was not only their leader but also a part of their lives, their community.
As we left the bakery, Callan looked at me."This place… it’s different from the castle," I said, glancing at him as we walked back outside. "It feels more like… you."
He looked at me, surprised, a small smile breaking his usual calm. "It’s home," he replied, his tone soft, as if I’d touched on something he hadn’t put into words before.
I returned his smile, a warmth spreading through me as I looked around. “It’s beautiful here. I can see why you care so much.”
He held my gaze, his eyes softening. “And now, you’re a part of it, too—even if only for a little while.”
We continued our walk in comfortable silence, the village enveloping us in its quiet, steadfast rhythm. For the first time since arriving, I felt a strange sense of belonging, a connection to this place and its people—and, perhaps most unexpectedly, to Callan.
YOU ARE READING
beyond boundaries
Romance"You don't belong here," he murmured, his voice rough, yet his hand was gentle as it traced the edge of my face. "But somehow, I don't want you anywhere else."
