Page 23 of Princess of Death

I felt the world rock back and forth even though it was steady, and then I drifted off to sleep.

“Will she be alright?” My mom was normally so fearless and rational, but her voice was heavy with unshed tears.

“Yes.” My father was strong as always, giving nothing to fear.

“It’s been a day. She needs to eat. She needs more water.”

“She needs sleep first,” he said calmly.

“What if she’s not okay, Talon?” She sniffled.

“She will be.”

“How do you know?” They spoke in whispers not to wake me, but I must have gotten a decent amount of sleep if quiet voices were enough to stir me.

“Because she’s our daughter.”

My mind started to stir like the slow ascent of a sunrise. I became more aware of the world around me, noticed the way I was able to think clearly in a way I hadn’t recently. My eyes felt a surge of strength, and I opened them to see my old bedchambers, the place where I used to live before I moved out of the castle.

My left hand felt warm, and when I looked down at it, I saw my mother was holding it as she lay beside me. Fully dressed, she lay on top of the bed, dead asleep like she was exhausted from waiting for me to wake up.

I looked to my right and found my father at my bedside, asleep in the high-backed chair, his hand close to mine like he’d been holding it before he slipped under the veil of sleep.

On the nightstand were a couple glasses of water and a plate of bread, pastries, and cookies, stuff that could sit out for days before going bad. I drank one glass of water and then downed the next. My stomach was so angry it nearly jumped out of my throat, so I grabbed a pastry and scarfed it down before I ate a few pieces of bread then a couple cookies. Crumbs got everywhere.

Dad was the first one to open his eyes, seeing me brush off the crumbs that got on my shirt and the sheets. He stiffened in the chair and went on high alert. “Lily.” He left the chair and sat on the edge of the bed before he pulled me into a hard hug, squeezing me tightly as he rested his chin on my head. His breaths quickened, and I felt the fast beat of his heart throughhis skin. He held me like that for a long time, his uneven breaths continuing.

“I’m okay, Dad.”

It took a while for him to let me go, and when he did, I saw the tears he refused to hide. He opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed too soon for him to form words because he closed it once more.

My mother woke up at the sound of his voice and sat up. “Lily.” She hugged me harder than my father and cradled me close. “Thank Riviana.” She cupped the back of my head and kissed me on the forehead.

It was a joyous and painful reunion. When my brother came into the room and hugged me, it was emotional all over again.

“Do you need anything?” Hawk asked.

“Food,” I said. “As much food as you can bring.”

My father would normally chuckle at something like that, but this time, he didn’t.

“I’m on it.” Hawk left the bedchambers.

It turned solemn once more, like I’d died at sea rather than survived to tell the tale. Neither one of them seemed to want to ask because they were afraid of the answer.

My mother spoke first. “They say that storm in the Great Sea was the worst we’ve ever had. When it made landfall in the Southern Isles, lots of homes were destroyed. Your father and Khazmuda were above the clouds, searching for your mind.”

My father stared at me, his eyes carrying the weight of his failure.

“Honestly, it’s good you didn’t find us,” I said. “I don’t think Khazmuda would have been able to escape the winds.”

“We thought the same,” my father said. “So our plan was to get me to you instead.”

It hurt to look my father in the eye because I knew he meant that. He would have helped me sail that ship out of the storm, and if he failed, we would have sunk to the bottom of the ocean together. Now, my eyes started to moisten as I thought about all the pain I’d put him through. “I’m sorry…”

His eyes shifted away like he couldn’t accept my apology right now. “What happened to the crew?”

I’d been so focused on my own survival the last few days, I hadn’t thought of them. I hadn’t had a chance to grieve or accept what had happened. And now that I was safe and rested, it hit me hard. “I’m the only survivor.”

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