Page 116 of Frost Like Night
“William.” My voice cracks. “William, stop—”
“Angra took my kingdom,” he continues. “I wasn’tallowed to raise my son as my own. I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough, and the only reason I could ever find was . . . you.”
“Me?” Were Sir not holding on to my arms, I’d collapse at his feet.
“It was so foolish of me.” Sir’s grip spasms. “I realize that now, Meira. I blamed you foryears. But you never accepted that blame, did you? Snow above, you fought it, foughtme, every chance you got. And I think, somewhere in all that fighting, I realized my blame was misplaced. You weren’t the reason for our past failure—you were the reason for our hope for the future. I may not have gotten to raise Mather as my son, but I got to raise both of you.”
My heart surges against my ribs, full to the point of bursting.
“But you’re right,” he says, a laugh. “You’re right. All this, everything that happened, was Hannah’s doing. And Angra’s doing. And I let them take even more of our lives by misplacing my blame for so long.” His eyes cut to Mather. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father.”
He shifts back to me.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father tobothof you,” he tells me, his apology falling directly into my ear as he pulls me forward.
Sir is hugging me.
I made my peace with him too, in Paisly. I resigned myself to the roles he’d chosen for us, and I was fine.
But I wasn’t fine.
Because wrapped in Sir’s arms, I come undone.
I’m sixteen years old, hugging him in the vision Angra dredged up in Abril.
I’m ten years old, sobbing against him in the wake of Gregg’s and Crystalla’s deaths.
I’m six years old, rocking back and forth in his arms after a nightmare, the one time he ever willingly hugged me, the episode branded on my heart and held as a beacon for everything I wanted out of our lives.
I fling my arms around his waist now, bury my face into him. Dust from the labyrinth sticks to his shirt, the forms of small knives in sheaths across his chest press into my face. His heart thumps against my ear, his lungs fill with raspy breaths that match my own.
This is better than all those moments. This erases them and starts fresh.
I rise up to look at him and stretch one hand out to Mather, beckoning him in. “We’ll fix this, together, and the world will be healed.”
The tears that fall down Sir’s face glisten on his cheeks, fold into the wrinkles that line his eyes. He lifts his head to look at Hannah again. Is she still there? It doesn’t matter. We passed this test, all of us. We’re healed now, and we can move forward.Together.
A crack forms in my joy.
No, it won’t be together. But I will die knowing Sir lovesme. I will die knowing everything I wanted for us wasn’t a hapless wish—it came true.
The crack splits so loudly that it rings in my ears when the look on Sir’s face shifts from bittersweet happiness to nothing but sorrow.
Unrepentant, screaming sorrow.
“A test of heart,” he whispers. “We’re supposed to forgive her.”
“We did,” I tell him, but the look on his face . . . “We can go—”
The ground rumbles as the wall to my left grates, something black and tall forming in my peripheral vision.
“A door!” Mather cries. “Come on, we can—”
But the ground doesn’t stop rumbling. And Sir won’t move.
I heave on his arms, and Mather dives in to help, both of us pulling and shouting as the ground shakes. The pillars around the room react to the vibrations, chunks of rock chipping off and shattering in small explosions around us.
Sir grabs my shoulders, his eyes too calm, too knowing. “Run.”
