Page 89 of Reign of Light
His cheek settles on the top of my head and his other hand finds my face, the pad of his thumb brushing softly against my skin, and the heat of his palm warding off the bite of the cold.
“Go to sleep. Hopefully we’ll figure out the rest of this chaos first thing in the morning.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Why didn’t anyone find me the second you brought her down here?”
The distant sound of Brynne’s voice echoing off the dungeon walls nudges me awake. I bolt upright, the cloaks pooling at my hips, and the instant chill from the air brings on a full-body quiver.
“Weston, wake up!” I hiss. Pressing my hand into his chest, I jostle him slightly, my eyes straining to see through the dim light down the corridor. When he doesn’t respond, I glance back, and icy fear slides up my spine as I take him in.
Shoulders hunched, body turned toward me, serene and unmoving. My eyes fall to his body, lying completely uncovered by the cloaks that had been draped over me only a moment ago.
“Weston?” Worry coats my voice as I spin until I’m on my knees in front of him. I’m too afraid to check for the rise and fall of his chest. “Weston?” I say more urgently now, my hands finding his face. Bile rises in my throat at the chill that meets my fingertips.
No.
“Weston!” I grab his shoulders and shake him again, more forcefully this time as tears well in my eyes. Panic claws at my chest, and my stomach threatens to empty, despite not remembering the last time I ate anything.
No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Thiscan’tbe happening.
We were supposed to confront my father, to figure out how to be together despite the futures already destined for us. He can’t leave me now.
“Wake up, please,” I plead, my hands running up the column of his neck, feeling for the beat of his heart. All the air leaves my chest when his body twitches, his head slowly turning to the side as his eyes flutter open.
“Gods, you’re alright!” I fall into him, pressing my forehead to his and taking his face in my hands.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles as he reaches up to rub at his eyes.
I lean back slightly, scanning his face, trying to convince myself that he’s alive, that he didn’t just freeze to death in the depths of my castle.
“You’re freezing.” I pull his hand to my face and blow my warm breath on his fingertips before rubbing my hands over them, trying to force warmth back into his body. “Why weren’t you under the cloak?” I reach down, grabbing it from where it lies on the ground behind me.
“You were cold,” he mumbles, and I fight the urge to scowl at him. Gripping his shoulders, I lean him forward and wrap his cloak around his shoulders, clasping it tightly across his chest.
“Get this door open now!” Brynne yells, and my head snaps toward the sound of her voice.
“Is that her?”
“Yes, thank the gods. You need to get up and move.” I grasp his hands, his fingers still like ice despite my effort, and he lets me help him to his feet. His movements are rough as he stretches his arms slowly.Hopping up and down, he tries to warm his muscles again as the clang of a full ring of keys sounds from down the hall.
“Hurry up, idiots!” Brynne yells, and it’s followed by the click of a lock and the loud creak of hinges from the thick wooden door.
I run to the bars, my hands wrapping tightly around the freezing metal, as I press my face into the open space between them, trying to get a glimpse of her. Multiple sets of footsteps pound on the stone floor, and I hope whoever she brought with her is ready to deal with the guards who threw us in here.
“Brynne!” Relief floods my body as the footsteps get louder. “I tried to tell them they were making a mistake, but no one would listen to me.”
She will sort all of this out, and part of me doesn’t feel sorry for those who are about to incur her wrath.
She steps into the dim glow of the lantern, and the moment my eyes fall on her, the relief I felt falls away into a sinking pit of dread. Guthrie stands behind her, sneering over her shoulder, but that isn’t what makes my throat dry.
Brynne looks the same as the day I left, the subtle changes of the time that has passed hidden away behind the way her hair is pulled back, out of the way of her armor. It’s the cold look on her face and her eyes zeroed in on me that makes her unrecognizable as the Brynne who told me she was proud of me almost two years ago. Confusion rocks me, and I gape at her until she stops in front of the cell.
“Brynne?” I barely get the word out before powerful arms cinch tightly around my waist and yank me away from the bars. Weston drags me away from the front of the cell and pins me against his body.
“Weston, wha?—”
“Her name isn’t Brynne,” he grumbles in my ear. Ice coats my skin as I look up at her in horror, the answering smirk all the confirmation I need.
