Starlit Throne - Chapter 3: Starbound Escape

Second Version - English

Rating: M/E
Genres: Romantasy | Sci-Fi | Slow Burn | Space Opera | Fated Mates

Summary:
Cassia Harper thought her biggest struggles were making rent, keeping up with Brighton’s fashion scene, and selling enough handmade crafts to help her family. But when a mysterious, brooding soldier-for-hire with pointed ears crashes into her life, everything changes.

Her past isn’t what she thought. The father she barely remembers wasn’t just some distant traveler and the pin she wears every day? Not just an antique!

Now, with assassins on her trail and a protector who refuses to claim her (even though the tension between them is scorching), Cassia has to decide: will she run from her destiny or rise to it?

Expect:
🔥 Slow-burn with intense tension (and several many very hot payoffs 😏)
🐺 Cosmic pointed-eared protector (who knows she’s his mate but refuses to act on it... at first)
👑 Galactic politics
🌌 A space opera filled with action, smut & drama
🛸 Brighton, UK meets the stars

Cassia stood in her workshop, surrounded by everything she loved and feared losing. Her hands trembled as she listened to Dain, the weight of his words pressing down harder than her own uncertainties. Leave Brighton? It seemed as impossible as finishing her projects, one more daunting than the next, in time for the festival. Dain watched her with unblinking intensity, his silver-grey eyes tracking her every move like she was some kind of mission. "They're coming," he said, his voice a low, steady command. "We need to go."

The room felt smaller, closing in with each beat of her heart. Everywhere she looked, Cassia saw another piece of herself—a life woven from threads and dreams. The vintage lace she'd found at a flea market last winter, the bold-striped fabric her mother had sent from her latest travels, the tiny buttons waiting patiently for the day she'd have the courage to start that new line. Half-finished designs drooped on mannequins like unfulfilled promises, and a shelf of bright fabric bolts leaned precariously against the wall. Could she really leave it all?

"Now, Cassia." Dain's voice cut through the tangle of her thoughts. His words were sharp, efficient, everything she wasn't.

She turned, eyes meeting his, and saw nothing but resolve. A soldier's face. "I can't just—" she started, then let the sentence unravel, unable to stitch the rest together.

"We don't have time," he said. "Gather what you need. Quickly."

Quickly. She almost laughed at the word. She moved through the chaos, fingers grazing familiar surfaces. The workshop buzzed with memories, every clatter and thump a reminder of what she was leaving unfinished. A rain of beads escaped from an upturned tin, a metallic cascade on the floor. As she stooped to catch them, the ridiculousness of it struck her—gathering beads when she should be gathering herself.

"I'll come back," she murmured, as if saying it aloud might make it true. Her eyes were wet, but her hands kept moving, nimble and knowing, as if they were working from a pattern they knew by heart. She grabbed her most essential tools, the ones she couldn't imagine creating without.

"What are you doing?" Dain asked, ears twitching with impatience, more lupine than human in his urgency.

Cassia hesitated, clutching a handful of knitting needles. "These were my grandmother's," she said, clutching them to her chest. "And this—this is the first pair of scissors I ever bought. They're rubbish now, but I can't just—"

He cut her off. "We're in danger. They won't care about your scissors."

Maybe not, she thought. But she did. She cared too much, about all of it. She moved faster, forcing herself to choose, to decide. The sewing machine—too heavy. Her latest dress—nearly done. She grabbed a roll of fabric, the colors splashing like a painter's palette, and shoved it into a bag.

The workshop smelled of fabric dye and glue, a comforting tang she wished she could bottle and take with her. She heard seagulls outside, their cries filtering through the window, tethering her to this place. Her head spun with the enormity of it all, her heart pulled in too many directions.

"We need to go," Dain said again, his tone more urgent now, an edge of something almost like worry.

"I know," she snapped, the words coming out sharper than she'd intended. But she didn't have time to mend them. Her life here was unspooling, and she had to leave the loose ends behind.

The tools, the fabric, the things she held most dear. They were packed, but the room was still full of ghosts she couldn't take with her. The buttons, the scissors, the beads. The mannequins, her projects, the drafts. "Everything I've ever known," she whispered.

Cassia's heart ached as she moved, her feet as reluctant as the rest of her. But she couldn't let them stop. Her fingers closed around her antique pin, a small bit of her past that had always made the present seem possible. She fixed it to her collar like a talisman.

"Leave the rest," Dain ordered, his voice not unkind. "We have to move."

The walls seemed to press in, squeezing the air from her chest. She grabbed one more roll of fabric, the colors bright and defiant, and turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, an imposing figure against the smallness of her life here.

With one last look around, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. The air smelled of salt and loss. "Okay," she said, and followed him out, not daring to look back again.

Cassia's hands moved with frantic purpose, but her heart was the opposite of ready. Anxiety gnawed at her resolve, nipping at her heels like a dog she couldn't outrun. The workshop, once her refuge, now felt like a trap. She didn't know how to leave. The door flew open with a gust of sea air, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Oh love, what in the bloody hell is going on?" Margot's voice filled the room, more bewildered than demanding. Her cheeks were flushed, wild curls barely contained by the pencils shoved through her hair. She took in the scene, her gaze darting from Cassia's pale face to Dain's stern expression. "Have you lost the plot entirely?"

Cassia fumbled with the fabric in her hands, trying to steady herself. The relief of seeing Margot was almost enough to break her. "It's complicated," she said, voice tight.

Margot's eyes widened, and she looked back at Dain, the pointed ears, the sharp features. "And who is this, then? Your new muse? Got a bit of the elf about him, doesn't he?"

"This is Dain," Cassia replied, words clipped and precise. She tried to fold the fabric into her bag, fingers shaking too much for the task. "I—I have to leave."

"Leave? But the festival's next week!" Margot was a whirlwind of incredulity, tangents colliding as she searched for sense. "And what do you mean, leave? You haven't left this flat for more than a day in five years!"

Dain stepped forward, military calm contrasting Margot's colorful chaos. "It's not safe," he said. "We need to go. Now."

Margot gaped at him, then turned to Cassia, voice softening with worry. "What sort of trouble are you in, love?"

Cassia drew a shaky breath, willing herself not to crumble. "I'm in danger, Margot. I have to go." She saw the hurt in Margot's eyes, the feeling of being shut out. "It's not just me, not anymore. Please understand."

There was a pause, thick with everything unsaid, then Margot's face settled into determined lines. "Right. Well. Let's get cracking, then." She grabbed a stack of pattern books, nearly dropping them in her haste. "I can't have you running off without your essentials, can I?"

Cassia felt a swell of gratitude, as warm and overwhelming as the panic had been. Margot didn't wait for details; she just rolled up her sleeves and dove into the mess. The kindness of it almost undid Cassia.

"This thread won't be much good where you're going, will it?" Margot said, shoving an armful of it into a bag. Her words were as quick as her movements. "And this dye—oh, it's just too much. Are you going abroad? Fleeing to the continent for a spell? Never thought you'd be one for travel!"

Cassia tried to keep up, heart pounding with more than fear. "I don't know," she admitted, truth slipping through in her voice. "I don't know where I'm going, Margot."

Her friend paused, looking at Cassia with eyes that held so many questions. Then she nodded, a new resolve softening her frantic edges. "Just like you, isn't it? Not planning a thing. Oh, we'll get you sorted, don't you worry."

Cassia packed in a blur of motion and emotion, feeling everything at once and not nearly enough. Margot's hands were everywhere, sweeping up supplies, tossing in scraps of advice and comfort. The room buzzed with Margot's presence, her constant hum of words like an electric charge.

"Take care of this place for me," Cassia said, pressing her workshop keys into Margot's palm. Her voice wavered, a fragile thing that might break if held too tightly.

Margot looked at the keys, then at Cassia, something breaking in her eyes before a smile patched it together. "You know I will. Might even have it in order by the time you get back!" Her laugh was bright, masking the tremor beneath it.

Cassia hugged her, a fierce embrace that said everything she couldn't find the words for. Margot smelled of tea and glue, familiar and comforting, a reminder of everything she was leaving. It was almost too much to bear.

"Everything," Cassia whispered, echoing a truth that felt too large. "It's all I have."

Margot squeezed her tighter, then pulled back with a reassuring nod. "You go, love. We'll hold down the fort." Her voice was strong now, anchoring.

Dain's presence was a constant shadow, pressing in as he interrupted their goodbye. "We need to move."

Margot stared at him, at Cassia, her expression caught between disbelief and acceptance. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, soldier boy," she said, shooing him with an absent wave. "I'm not finished saying goodbye."

Cassia looked at Dain, then back at Margot. The moment was too brief, too much and not enough. She felt it slip through her fingers like the fabric she'd left behind.

"I'll keep everything just as it is," Margot promised, fumbling with the keys, her usual disorganization battling with sincerity. "You'll come back to find it exactly the same."

Cassia nodded, choking on words that wouldn't come out. She turned away, Dain urging her toward the door. Her heart felt heavy with everything they were leaving behind.

Margot watched them go, her expression a patchwork of emotions. Cassia saw the questions, the confusion, the fierce affection. She couldn't stop to explain. She couldn't even stop to look back.

Then they were out the door, and Cassia felt the air change, a sudden emptiness rushing in where her life had been.

Cassia followed Dain through the narrow alleys of Brighton, the weight of her decision heavier than any bag she carried. The town she thought she'd always be part of slipped past in a blur, familiar landmarks now nothing but memories painted in soft watercolors. The pier, the pavilion, the streets she'd walked for years. She couldn't believe she was leaving.

Each step felt like a small betrayal, Brighton's charm wrapping around her ankles and begging her to stay. The smell of fish and chips wafted from a nearby stall, mingling with the salty air and tugging at her heartstrings. She wanted to savor it all, to stop and let the sensations fill her, but Dain's pace was relentless, as unstoppable as the decision she'd made.

The alleys twisted and turned, a maze of brick and stone that had always seemed so permanent. Now they rushed by, refusing to hold her. Her bag was a tangible weight, digging into her shoulder, but the true heaviness was inside, pressing down with every step.

Dain moved with ease, his path direct and assured. Cassia envied the certainty of his stride, the way he cut through her world like it was just another mission. She clutched the antique pin at her collar, drawing comfort from the familiar touch. Her heart ached with each block they left behind, a silent tally of loss.

They reached the waterfront, and Cassia couldn't help but pause, drinking in the sight of the pier. She remembered summers spent beneath its bright lights, the smell of the ocean wrapping around her like an embrace. She wanted to hold onto it, to stitch the memory into something she could carry with her.

"Are you all right?" Dain asked, his voice more concerned than she'd expected.

"No," Cassia said, surprising herself with the truth of it. "But I will be."

He nodded, accepting her answer with the same efficiency he accepted everything else. It should have made her angry, but it didn't. It only made her sad.

They continued through the city, the urgency of their pace pulling Cassia from one emotion to the next. Everything felt too fast, too real, too final. She saw the pavilion, the faded colors a soft blur, a quiet farewell. The clatter of a train passing overhead, the distant sound of laughter. It was all so familiar, yet impossibly out of reach.

Dain didn't slow, his ears pricked for threats Cassia couldn't even imagine. "We're almost there," he said, as if she should be relieved. As if leaving everything behind was some kind of victory.

The alley opened into a secluded area, and Cassia's heart stumbled at the sight. An ordinary delivery van, worn and nondescript, sat parked in the shadows. She couldn't suppress a snort of disbelief.

"This is your spaceship?" she asked, incredulity painting her words. The faded logo on the side looked like it had seen better decades.

Dain didn't answer right away. Instead, he approached the van with a soldier's caution, scanning the area before turning to her with a calm that bordered on irritating. "It will do."

Cassia felt her skepticism bubbling over. "If you say so."

He ran a hand along the vehicle's side, activating hidden controls that shimmered to life beneath his touch. The van's exterior began to hum, a sound both alien and strangely comforting. She watched, mouth slightly open, as the ordinary began to transform into the extraordinary.

Panels slid away, revealing sleek control interfaces that glowed with unfamiliar symbols. The hum grew louder, a symphony of advanced technology waking up after a long slumber. Cassia couldn't help but take a step back, her eyes wide with awe.

The interior of the van morphed before her eyes, seats retracting, screens and consoles emerging in their place. Everything she thought she knew shifted in an instant, leaving her breathless.

"Come on," Dain said, already inside and making adjustments with the ease of long familiarity. "It's time."

Cassia hesitated at the threshold, caught between worlds. Brighton was a soft blur outside, the old and the new clashing in her chest. She took a tentative step into the ship, the smooth floor vibrating under her feet like a heartbeat.

The door closed behind her, sealing her decision with a finality she wasn't ready for. She felt the subtle change as the ship activated its stealth systems, a tingling sensation that whispered she was already somewhere else.

Dain's presence filled the small space, his focus on the controls absolute. Cassia watched him, feeling more adrift than ever. The bag at her feet seemed pitifully small compared to the enormity of what she'd done.

She moved to a viewport, watching Brighton through the ship's cloaked exterior. It was still there, just beyond her reach. The familiar coastline, the tiny figures going about their day, unaware of her heart breaking in orbit.

"Everything I've ever known," she whispered, pressing her hand against the screen.

Dain glanced at her, a moment of something like understanding crossing his features before he turned back to his work. The ship's engines thrummed, a gentle acceleration that caught her off guard.

The world outside shifted, the city falling away in a slow, graceful arc. Cassia felt the pull of gravity release its hold, the sensation both liberating and terrifying. She wanted to close her eyes, to hold on tighter, to let go completely.

Brighton became a speck, then less than that. The only place she'd ever belonged was behind her now, shrinking into nothing as the ship climbed higher. It took everything she had not to reach out, to not turn back.

The blue of the ocean, the green of the land, the curve of the horizon. Cassia watched it all, the colors vibrant against the deepening black of space. Her world had changed, was changing, more than she ever thought possible.

She turned from the viewport, meeting Dain's steady gaze. He looked at her with the weight of a promise, unspoken and unbreakable.

Cassia let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, her heart a stitchwork of fear and wonder, each piece more fragile than the last.

"We're clear," Dain said, his voice as steady as the ship beneath them.

"Are we?" Cassia asked, the question bigger than either of them.

And as they left it all behind, she found she didn't need an answer.