Page 114 of Reign of Light
“I am now the Guardian of Dawnlin. The magic of the island that lies within this dust will bring me back to it, and I will be ready and waiting for the next call.”
“But how?” I ask, unable to hide the disbelief in my voice. “You didn’t kill Dane. My father did, and ultimately Dane was responsible for his death. How then are you the Guardian?”
“It is interesting that on an island that helps bring about life, you believe that death creates its protector.” Edmond looks blankly at me, the same way he did growing up when he was trying to get me to think about something. I blink at him, keeping my mouth sealed shut, hoping he will continue explaining, and am relieved when he does.
“The magic of Dawnlin does not lie with the person who is granted the title of Guardian. It lies with the magic inside this pouch. Oncethere was no longer a Guardian of Dawnlin, the moment I obtained the vessel that holds the magic, I became the new Guardian.”
My jaw slackens as his words hit me. All this time, the Castaways thought the Guardian was created by the death of the previous one. How could they not? Sig and Weston had no other knowledge of this place, only what they saw happen before their eyes. But they were wrong.
“It was with the dust all along?” I ask. “It wasn’t because Dane killed the previous Guardian?”
Edmond shakes his head. “No, Your Majesty. It was because he was the first to procure the dust.”
Weston’s face falls into his hands, and his frustrated growl echoes through the room. “This entire time, I could have fucking killed him, and it wouldn’t have meant anything. We could have rid the island of him, and it would have been done.”
“But you know you would have grabbed the pouch first,” I say as my hand flattens on his back. “You wouldn’t have let anyone else take it.”
He turns his head slightly and shoots me a look, which I return.
“You know I’m right.”
Shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh, he looks forward again, his hands still wringing through his hair.
“Which,” Edmond interjects, “is why I could not allow that to happen.”
Both our heads snap toward him, only to find a satisfied smile.
Weston drops his hands as his back straightens. “You did it so I wouldn’t become the Guardian?”
“I did it because I thought neither of you should become the Guardian. But, I could not let my son, who has already sacrificed so much, lose his chance at a normal life and happiness. I did not want that decision taken away from you without your knowledge, especially after the last twenty or so years.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow down the lump. Edmond wasn’t there. He didn’t see the way Weston gave himself to his crew, andsacrificed everything he wanted to keep them all safe, but he knows that the man who left his kingdom to help his best friend have happiness once again deserves his turn to have the same.
“Howdo you know this, Pop?” Weston implores. “How did I never know you went to Dawnlin?”
“You were very young when I left, and I was not gone for long.” Edmond’s face falls slightly, but he tries to hide it with a soft smile. “I returned just after your mother died.”
Weston’s mouth falls open and his eyes widen in realization. The nightmares, the ones he told me about where he relives the night his mother died.
Please don’t leave.
He was begging his father to stay, begging Edmond to stay, because he was leaving to call the Guardian. He was trying to find the healing waters to save her life, but he was too late.
And he could never speak of it.
“You got them,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “You were worthy.”
Edmond nods solemnly. “I was, but by the time I returned, my love was already gone. I never got to say goodbye, nor could I ever utter a word as to where I was or why.”
Weston’s jaw ticks at his father’s recollection of that night, which is so different from the one the once young boy remembers. “You still haven’t explained how you know all of this. There’s nothing written anywhere on that island. We checked everywhere, and everything written in this kingdom is too vague.”
“Neither of you will be surprised to hear that I simply talked to the man. Though I was pressed for time, I still needed to know as much as I could about the magic I was about to trust, and Horace agreed.”
“Horace?” I ask. “Who is Horace?”
“The Guardian before, I am assuming the same one who brought you.” He nods to Weston. “He did not hold back, of course, knowing I could not speak of the magic once I returned to our world. He seemed veryobliged to talk about it with someone. It makes sense that most who seek out Dawnlin are singularly focused. He was very kind and educational.”
“So you knew that the dust decides the next Guardian,” Weston says. “But you also knew how to replenish it.”
