Page 159 of Between Despair and Hope

“They should be here. It’s not fair.”

“They should, and it isn’t fair.”

“It should be the three of us, not just me.”

The realization hit me: once my father died, I’d have no family left, aside from the one I’d made. It was something I couldn’t bear to think about.

“You said he doesn’t remember half the servants?” Gemma nodded her head in answer to his question as Rain gently guided me back to the sofa we’d been sitting on. “Any of them my size?”

“Rain, you don’t have to—”

“Brilliant, Your Majesty. I’ll be right back.”

Rain kept his own breeches on, but a few minutes later, he was following behind me into my father’s suite wearing Mister Carson’s jacket. It was far too small, and I was sure we’d have to replace it after Rain was done with it. Seeing him struggle into it helped calm my nerves. He couldn’t lift his arms, and it was comical to look at. I’d told him he didn’t have to do that, I would be fine, but he persisted. I had just needed a moment to calm myself. It was a panic attack. I’d had them before, but it had been long enough I’d forgotten what they felt like.

When my father rolled his head on the pillow to look up at me, I realized the ruse might not have been worth our time. The way his eyes couldn’t focus on me made me wonder if he would have even noticed Rain.

“Hello, Pa,” I said quietly, using a name I hadn’t used for him since I was a child. I didn’t plan to call him that, but seeing him lying in the bed looking small and weak had my gut twisted and mind addled. His hair, normally perfectly combed, was a mess. He wore a linen shirt, loose on his thin frame, and my eyes were drawn to the stains on the front. Porridge, it looked like. His skin sagged from his face, evidence of weight lost too quickly.

“Why, hello sunshine. Come here,” he said, lifting a shaking arm from the bed. My chest tightened at the endearment. He had once called me sunshine and Lucia stormcloud, just to be contrary, aggravating the both of us. I hadn’t heard him say it once since my sister’s death. Rain took a seat at the chess table along the far wall as I moved around to my father’s side of the bed. I perched on the edge, just next to his hip. The faint scent of urine reached me as I adjusted.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I’ve felt worse,” he replied, coughing on a laugh. I reached for his frail hand, and he patted my own before clasping them together. “It’s awful, getting old. You were smart to put it off.”

Not understanding his meaning at first, it took me a moment to realize he knew about the bond. Gemma said she had reminded him of things, but I was pleasantly surprised. “I’m sorry you weren’t there. It was all very sudden.”

“Nothing to apologize for, my sunshine girl. I’m glad you’re finally getting some happiness. What’s that?” he asked, pointing at my neck.

“It’s a tattoo.” I hadn’t once thought about having to explain it to anyone.

“It’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” I replied, surprised that was all he had to say.

“How’s Lucia?”

A quick cut I wasn’t expecting.

“Do you mean Elora, Pa?” I corrected gently.

“Yes, who else?” He sounded frustrated, and I remembered Gemma’s words warning me to approach situations such as this carefully. I wasn’t supposed to draw attention to his mistake.

“She’s well. She’s still got some healing to do, but I’m very proud of her.”

“There’s a rumor going around.” He raised a brow as he looked up at me, eyes the color of my own curious. I chuckled, squeezing his hand.

“You have time to pay attention to rumors now?”

“Elora belongs to the Crown Prince? That’s what the servants are saying.”

I stilled, uncertain of what to say. I didn’t know if he’d be upset, and Gemma had insisted it was paramount not to distress him. But I wouldn’t lie. Not bothering to correct him about Rain’s royal status, I answered about our daughter.

“She does.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine.”

My brows furrowed before I said, “I’m not. I’m ecstatic she belongs to him.”

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