Page 165 of Between Despair and Hope

It felt like prolonging the inevitable. Eventually, she thought to heal his mind rather than his body, but she’d compared it to what the mindbreaker had done to Faxon.

“There’s nothing to heal,” she had said in a horrified whisper.

After that, she stopped trying, and I knew it killed a part of her to give up on him. There were no words to soothe I didn’t try, but I knew her grief was something she’d have to work through on her own. I wondered if she ever debated stopping his heart to end the pain. If she did, she never said it, and I never mentioned it. She’d already been forced to use her harrowing that way when she didn’t want to. I wouldn’t recommend putting her through it again.

We hadn’t yet been at Ravemont for a week when I fetched my telescope from Crown Cottage, setting it up in the back garden. It wasn’t the same, nor was it as convenient as the balcony, but she hadn’t wanted to risk rifting away in case her father worsened. Kennon was falling asleep earlier and earlier each day, and as selfish as it was, I was happier for it. It was hard on Em to see him fade away and her unable to do anything for him. The sooner he slept, the more rest she got. I was eager to show her the telescope, so the moment I felt her cool relief, her father finally finding sleep, I rifted to her.

When I met her in the hall outside his bedroom, she jumped in surprise. “Rain!” she squeaked, clutching her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s alright,” she breathed as she leaned against the wall and wiped her brow. “I had to help move Pa. Mister Carson hurt his back the last time Gemma needed help changing him.”

“Why didn’t you call for me? I’d have helped.”

“He already pitched a fit because I was there. Imagine if the King of Vesta saw him that way.”

“He wouldn’t even recognize me.”

“He might. He called me sunshine again today.” A small smile raised the corners of her lips. Her eyes were half shut as she lifted her hair off her neck. She was worn out. “It’s so unfair, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Not about him dying.” She tilted her head back, resting it against the wall and completely closing her eyes. “He—he’s had this in him the whole time; he just chose not to. He hasn’t called me sunshine in over sixteen years, Rain. It’s almost like he died a long time ago. I don’t—” Exhaling, she opened her eyes and slid them to mine, resolve taking over her features. “The father I knew died with Lucia, and I never got a chance to know this new one. It’s strange to mourn now when I’ve been mourning him all along. And now I get to see glimpses of the old him. It’s bullshit.”

“Parts of all of us changed irreparably that day.”

“Don’t defend him.” Her right brow lifted as she looked at me.

“I’m not. I don’t have to imagine what it’s like to lose a child because for weeks I thought I had. And what I have with Elora isn’t near what you had with—”

“Better. It’s better. Or will be, at the very least.” She dropped her hair and pushed off the wall to face me. The cross of her arms and the stubborn tilt of her chin had me taking a step toward her.

She’d finally put some of her weight back on, her hips and thighs softening and filling her clothes out once more. I’d been worried about her, knowing it was stress and unwillingness to prioritize herself which had made her soft curves harden. I loved her body in all its forms, but there was something to be said about being able to grab a handful of my favorite parts. But I uttered nothing to her about it; I learned early on that a woman’s body was none of my gods damned concern.

Well, unless I was drawing gasps of pleasure from this woman’s body in particular.ThatI would make my concern.

“Sometimes I wonder if they wished it was me instead of her,” she admitted.

“Don’t fucking say that. Don’t even think it.”

“It’s hard not to think that. If I had died, Lucia would be queen beside you.” I barely stifled my reaction, revulsion-caused goosebumps spreading over my skin. “There would be no second household for my father to scrape the funds together for. I doubt my mother would have taken my death as hard as she did Lucia’s. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, Rain. I don’t hold any bitterness over it—well, not too much anyway. It is what it is. But I don’t think Lucia would have let him treat her the way I’ve let him carry on all these years.”

“Either way, he had you, and he wasted it. What Lucia would have done doesn’t matter because she’s not here.”

“Maybe I should have tried harder.”

“You were barely more than a child when you left, Em. And you had your own to raise.”

“It’s clear he cared about me, the way he’s been talking to me these past few days. Maybe if I would have pushed for more, I might have noticed he was ailing—before it was too late. He was short with me this past year, worse than normal. He didn’t even ask about Elora half the time. I thought he didn’t care, Rain,” she whispered, and I folded her into my arms.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself. Did he ever make more of an effort? All the years before then?”

“Well, no.”

“So, the conclusion you came to was reasonable.”

“I suppose,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around my waist, and I rested my chin atop her head. The calm rhythm of our hearts beating together made me grateful for this melancholy sort of respite.

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