Page 105 of Reign of Light
“Kneel before your queen.”
My nose burns as I watch everyone before me follow his command and drop to their knees. Weston scans the room, ensuring complies with the tradition, especially in the wake of the treason today. When he is satisfied, he turns toward me and drops to a knee, the same way he did in his room, before linking our lives together with his oath.
The muscles in his face relax as he looks up at me, his severe authority softening for my eyes only. His voice betrays nothing as he calls out into the room, the resonance causing me to startle.
“Long live Lennox Holt! Long live the queen!”
A loud echo erupts from the group kneeling behind him, but I can’t take my eyes off of his.
“Long live the queen!”
He gives me a slow nod, and I don’t know if it is permission or reassurance, but I pull my gaze away and look out across the room at all the people, my people. This moment is anything but easy. It is a double-edged sword, and only other regents will know the immense pressure and sadness that comes with it. I want to remember, to try to soak up the hint of pride I feel as I look out among so many faces I have known for so long, but it’s too much. All of it.
I need time, space. I need to think straight before I have to be the queen I was trained to be.
I don’t know what to do now.
Flicking my wrist, I urge him to stand and reach out for him. He doesn’t need an explanation or a command; he knows, like he always does, what I need. Once he stands, so does everyone else, and the flurry immediately starts again. This time, I ignore it, keeping my focus on him.
“I’m taking you to your room,” Weston grumbles, closing the space between us but not getting too close, as close as I am used to him being. “The healer said to rest. Everything else will be dealt with.”
“Alright,” I rasp, and gulp down the fire that singes my throat.
Motion catches my eye, and I turn my head slowly to find a familiar figure crossing the dais, stepping past the covered, lifeless body of the Guardian of Dawnlin.
“Hello, son.”
Edmond’s voice feels like a warm blanket wrapping tightly around me, and I blink back tears as my chest swells. Neither of us ever thought we would see him again, but here he is, still alive, and completely unchanged from the night I walked away from him and left for another world.
“Pop,” Weston breathes, the relief in his voice palpable.
“My boy, it has been too long, but things like this always have a way of working out for the best.” Edmond smiles, his eyes squinting in the way I have become so familiar with. “I had hope.”
“How did you know?” I force out, and he shakes his head.
“That is a story for another day. Right now, Your Majesty, you need to heal. I am sure my son wants to take you away from all of this.” He gestures to the surrounding room, a knowing look on his face.
Weston moves quickly, crossing the dais and wrapping his arms around his father.
“I missed you,” I hear him mumble, and my chin quivers as I remember the look on his face back in the spring when I told him story after story of my time with his father.
Edmond’s reply is harder to catch as it is muffled in Weston’s shoulder, but I’ve been listening to his voice for far too long not to pick up on it. “I knew you both would come home.”
Weston releases him and steps back. “Later,” he promises.
Edmond smiles and nods. “Of course. Attend to the queen.”
Weston looks out over the room, his eyes scanning until he finds who he is looking for.
“ONeal,” he barks, and the man stops and stands at attention, waiting for his command. “Find Tila and tell her she’s needed in the queen’s chambers. Charles, clear everyone from this room except for the healers to shroud the king, then meet me upstairs at her door.”
I barely have time to process the commands before Weston is striding back across the dais and scooping me into his arms. He cradles me close, as if he doesn’t care who sees or that this is a completely acceptable action of the First Guard for a queen who has had her life threatened.
The men spring to action, but we aren’t in the throne room long enough to see anything else. Weston blazes through the empty halls, his pace never slowing, even as he carries me up the long flight of stairs.
“Where are your rooms?” he murmurs, and I point to the right as we approach the top of the steps.
“That way.”
