Page 100 of Reign of Light
I have to fight. I will not let Dane win.
A choked gurgle barely escapes my lips as I try to force out a sound, any sound. His body freezes, his hand on the back of my head clutching me tighter as I plead with my body to move, to say something, anything that will tell him I’m still here, and I’m trying.
Open your eyes.
It’s a command to myself, because the desire to live can’t just come from him. I have to want it just as badly. I cannot give up, despite my body begging me to.
Weston watched me die once before. He brought me back to life, and I watched the relief etched on his face when I took that first breath. But that was before; before everything happened between us.
The friendship, the trust, the oath, the love.
The promise of a future.
His forehead presses to mine so that the tips of our noses brush, and I feel his body shudder as he cradles me tighter.
“Don’t let go. Not yet. I love you.”
Broken.
Weston. My Weston. The captain, the First Guard, the protector, the one who holds strong so no one else has to, is broken. The voicethat falls on my ears is filled with despair, but worse, failure. No matter how hard he fought, how hard he tried to get to me, to protect me, to save me, he couldn’t. His oath, not only to the future queen, but to me, breaks with my final breath.
I will not let him endure that pain. I will not let him live the rest of his life knowing that he failed me, because he didn’t. He never could. There’s nothing Weston could have done that would have altered Dane’s plan, that would have changed the trajectory of this night, not without risking him being in my place, and leaving me to endure the rest of my life without him.
He needs to hear it from me. I need to do exactly what he commanded me.
Fight with all my years of pent-up anger, and strength, and determination.
It’s now or never.
My mind screams. My soul rages against the dark prison trying to overtake me, but I only focus on getting back to him.
It takes everything I have left inside to will my eyelids to slowly flutter open, and if I had the strength to wince against the light of the throne room, I would. My sight focuses on him, still pressed against my forehead. Eyes screwed shut and tears moistening his lashes, his brow is furrowed so deeply, his jaw clenched so tightly, he looks like he might implode.
But he’s there. I can see him. I came back to him.
For how long, I don’t know, but I’m going to soak up every second that I can, even if he doesn’t know I’m there.
A grief-stricken scream erupts from him, the agonizing bellow coming from deep in his chest. The sound vibrates through me, echoing off the walls and ringing in my ears as he shakes violently, still clutching me like he never wants to let me go. I try to will myself to speak, but my throat won’t function as pain slices through, the muscles unable to move after being the victim of Dane’s hatred.
Weston’s face falls, defeat sinking into his features. Opening his eyes, he slowly trails them up my face, wincing the closer he gets to my eyes as if he can’t bear seeing me lifeless.
But I’m not. Barely. And I just want to see his eyes again.
When the darkened teal meets mine, they widen as he sucks in a sharp breath.
“You’re alive.” His words are barely a whisper as his eyes dart between mine, the defeat morphing into complete and utter shock. Tears escape the corners of my eyes as I blink gently, refusing to look away from him, and unable to escape the swell in my chest at the sight. It’s the only answer he needs before he’s crushing me to his chest again, cradling my head against him as if I will disappear if I’m not near.
“I need the healers now!” he screams, and there’s more commotion as bodies shuffle around us.
I try to say his name, but there’s no sound as my lips barely form the word with what little energy I have left. Fire laces my throat with every move, and all I can do is whimper from the pain.
“I’m here, sweetheart. Breathe for me, please.” He scoops me into his arms and stands, turning his back on the room and shielding me from the brutal scene surrounding us. Kneeling on the plush black carpet, he lowers me down into the aisle and leans my back against the end of a pew. He may have set me down, but his hands never leave my body. They course over me, the same way he did back on the ship time and time again, searching for any injury, anything that could be causing me pain.
I want to close my eyes, and savor the feel of his hands on me, but I’m afraid of returning to the darkness. My breaths are still shallow, and pain accompanies each one, but I try to push it away, and focus on him. Not the chaos in the room, not the fear of what might happen, not the questionable future. I want to think only about the pressure of his warm hand resting on my hip, and the other wrapped around my nape.
“Where are the fucking healers?” he barks again, only tearing hiseyes away from me for a moment before they’re fixed back on my face, constantly assessing.
A man in a guard’s uniform standing behind Weston answers succinctly. “They’re with the king, sir.”
