Page 101 of Reign of Light
“The future queen needs them now!” he snaps, and the guard turns on his heel and hurries across the room. Weston’s entire focus is back on me in an instant, and there’s fear in his eyes as they trail over my face and down my neck. With the way he’s looking at me, I can only imagine how badly he wishes we were still back in the infirmary, using the magic that was so generously offered to us, despite never wanting to use it for himself.
There’s a pang in my chest as I think back to him refusing to use the magic to heal the cut I so ignorantly gave him, but remember vividly how he didn’t question using anything within his reach to heal me when I needed it.
His love was so obvious, and I ignored it for so long. It was almost ripped away from me tonight. My chest starts rising and falling rapidly as a swell of sorrow builds up.
“Slow, steady breaths,” he croons, his thumb stroking my skin. “Everything is all right.”
“No,” I rasp. My eyes fill with tears, and I try to shake my head, but pain erupts in my neck, and I wince. Weston’s expression is fierce as he looks over his shoulder, back toward where my father lay on the dais surrounded by the group of healers.
“Sir, everyone involved in the insurrection has been detained,” a man says from my other side, but I don’t turn to see who it is. It hurts too much, and I’m too afraid to let him out of my sight.
“Good. Shut the entrances down. I don’t want anyone on or off the grounds until every person has been questioned. Get all the traitors locked in the dungeon. Separately. Make sure they’ve all been searched thoroughly.”
“And the Second Guard?”
Weston’s glare turns deadly. “She’s no longer the Second Guard. Strip her of her sword and armor and lock her away. Alone. I will question her myself.”
“Yes, sir,” the man says, and I hear his footsteps grow quiet as he leaves, barking out the orders he was just given.
Weston turns back toward me, his face falling, and it is only then that I notice the uncontrollable tears still streaming down my cheeks.
“Lennox, baby, you’re safe. It’s over. Please don’t cry.” He leans forward to press a kiss to my forehead, but before he gets close enough, his body jolts to a stop, and a look of anguish fills his face.
All I want is to feel his lips on me, even just the barest brush against my skin, but he can’t. We can’t. Not here, in the midst of the chaos, so soon after I almost didn’t live to ever feel his lips again. The pain on his face looks like it is eating him alive, not being able to touch me like he wants to, especially in this moment, and I know exactly what he is feeling.
I was so close to losing him, losing everything, and I can’t even tell him all that I wanted to say. But more than that, it’s clear things are going to be different than they were in Dawnlin, although still eerily similar. The way he commands everything around him, and the way everyone defers to his direction, even after all this time. They respect him.
A woman kneels beside Weston, and I recognize her immediately. Roxyana has been a healer in the castle for a long time and has tended to more than one of my scrapes or wounds over the years. But she’s never seen me like this.
“What happened?” she asks firmly as her eyes rake over my body, assessing before she lays a hand on me.
“He strangled her.” Weston’s throat bobs, and the muscle in his cheek flickers before he speaks again. “She lost consciousness for a few minutes. She wouldn’t respond, and then she did. Her breathing has been shallow since. She can’t speak.”
Roxyana gives him a brief nod, but she stays focused on me. “Please step back,” she says and raises her arm to make room for her to get closer to me.
The threatening growl from Weston’s chest is audible.
“No.”
She shoots him an exasperated look, her mouth in a tight line. “I need space to examine the princess if I am to make sure there’s no permanent damage.”
Weston looks pained, as if it’s taking him extra effort to step away, but he doesn’t. His hands immediately find his head, wringing his hair as he watches the healer shift in front of me. Her hands are gentle as she begins, starting at the top of my head and working her way down. When she brushes the column of my neck, I can’t stop the whimper that escapes my throat or the rapid breathing accompanied by a cower. Weston starts toward me, but stops himself as she pulls her hands away quickly.
“I won’t harm you, princess,” she says. “I just need to examine you to see what harm was done.”
My eyes flick back up to Weston, and I can see the tension rippling through his body. I look back at her and try to mutter the only word I can manage in this moment. Sound barely comes out, and the movement is still laced with pain, but I give her my consent.
“Yes.”
She moves slowly so as not to startle me, reaching up and gently pressing into the muscles of my neck, feeling the structures, and checking my face for any sign of pain at her touch. Fingertips press into the back of my neck, sliding down my spine and into my shoulders, pressing every bone, muscle, and ligament. Her face stays locked in a firm look of concentration that doesn’t change even when she releases me.
“How badly did he hurt her?” Weston says impatiently.
Roxyana sits back on her heels and folds her hands onto her lap. “The princess is very lucky. Things could have been much worse. Everything seems to be intact, but she will be in a bit of pain for a while. She will need rest.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” he grumbles, and she moves again.
She looks into each of my eyes and instructs me to follow her commands. Moving my eyes and face, blinking at her, wiggling my toes and fingers. I follow each as best I can, but my body is weak. Even though I can do them, it feels too difficult, like I’m having to push my body too hard to accomplish something so simple.
