CAELIN POV
I had made mistakes before.
A lot of mistakes, actually.
When I was five, I’d once tried to jump from a second-floor balcony because I was convinced I could stick the landing.
I could not.
I'd once accepted a drinking challenge from Alaric. Which ended up with me crying like a baby on his shoulder while he tried to get me out of the fountain at the end of Main street.
I still had emotional scars.
And when I was twelve, I'd accidentally set my mother's private kitchen on fire trying to impress a girl with homemade crème brûlée.
In my defense, nobody had explained that fire and sugar were apparently close relatives.
The point was this:
I was familiar with mistakes.
Comfortable with them, even. I made them, blamed myself for a little while, learned whatever lesson life
