Page 102 of Reign of Light
“It might be difficult to speak for a while,” she says once she seems satisfied that my body didn’t lose any function, “but other than the pain and the voice, I do not believe you will have lasting damage.”
Weston’s hands fall to his knees as he lets out a gust of breath. My chest squeezes as I take him in, back hunched and head hanging between his shoulders. I would feel just as relieved as he looks if our roles were reversed, but I can imagine it’s affecting him even more knowing the guilt he feels for Dane hurting me once again.
Roxyana stands and smoothes her skirts. “I will still continue to monitor you closely, just to be sure. We will give you a tonic to help with the pain. Strict bed rest for at least a week while the muscles heal.”
“Thank you,” Weston breathes, straightening to his full height again, just as the healer drops into a deep curtsey.
“Sir?” Another guard strides toward us as Roxyana turns away. His voice is breathless as he rushes to Weston, and it’s only then that I recognize him. He was one of the older guards who stood in the hall, who watched Brynne lead us to the throne room.
And he called Weston, sir.
Did he recognize him? Does he remember him? Is that how this nightmare ended?
“What?” Weston says, turning to face the guard.
“The king is asking for her,” he says, looking down toward me, his face solemn and respectful. He drops to a knee in a quick bow, dipping hishead, before rising up once again. “Princess. The healers say he doesn’t have much time.”
“Thank you,” Weston mutters, then sinks down beside me again. “Do you want to see him?”
His brow is soft as he scans my face, waiting for my answer.
Do I? It feels odd having the choice, but I have been honest with Weston about the relationship I had with my father. He must know how difficult it could be for me, and how much of our history might prevent me from wanting to speak to him, but just like back in Dawnlin, he’s giving me the ability to choose, like I told him I always wanted.
His hand finds mine, and he squeezes reassuringly. “I know things between the two of you were not great when you left, and I would understand if you don’t.”
Staring blankly at him, I try to push through the fog in my mind that is still recovering from being deprived of air for so long, that is still reeling from everything that has happened tonight.
I didn’t get to say goodbye to one parent, and despite my father and my history, I don’t want to regret choosing to ignore him now. The gods kept him alive long enough to save my life, and there must have been a reason. Maybe it was only to give me the chance to let him go, to have closure, to walk into my reign with a logical mind and not worry about who I am trying to impress.
My voice is scratchy and barely audible when I force out my answer.
“Yes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Weston lifts me carefully and cradles my body to his chest. Despite the healer’s reassurance that I did not sustain any lasting damage, he still moves with caution so as not to harm me himself. His hands grip me with the strength and comfort I have become used to when he carries me to safety, and I turn my face into his chest, trying to prepare myself for what is about to come, and avoiding the remnants of the violence around me.
Even after everything Dane did to me—the ways he hurt me mentally, physically, emotionally—I still don’t want to see him lying in a pool of his own blood. I cared about him, and though those feelings have disappeared and morphed into hatred, I don’t want to remember him this way. And I don’t want to see my father’s blood smeared across the stones and mixing with that of his murderer.
Whenever I entered this room, I was surrounded by order and structure, and tradition. I can’t look around now and see the chaos that mars its perfection. I have to focus on the feeling of security Weston isgiving me, because I don’t know what I will feel the moment I look into my father’s dying eyes.
Careful not to jostle me as he climbs the steps, Weston crosses the dais and kneels before the throne, setting me down gently and turning me so I am face to face with my father. I want to grab hold of him, to stay sheltered in his arms, so I’m not alone, but before I can even try, he rises again, standing just far enough from me to be considered appropriate, but close enough that I can still feel his presence.
A pit forms in my stomach as I take in the man before me. Sitting slumped against the throne, his face already ashen and sagging as his chest rises and falls in short, shuddering breaths. He clutches tightly to a clump of soiled fabric, pressing it firmly into his abdomen. His once fine clothes are bloodstained and torn, and my mind is brought back to a similar stain I found on Weston’s clothing, back from when Dane committed the same act, leaving them both for dead.
I barely recognize the man before me, but the moment his eyes meet mine, I startle. I can recall exactly how many times my father has looked me in the eye, and his unwavering gaze is another time to add to the already very short list. The man I know is still in there somewhere, but in these last moments, he’s finally able to look at me one last time.
“You’re back,” he says, his voice just above a whisper.
I barely manage a nod, and hear Weston behind me shift the weight on his feet when I wince from the pain.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Father’s brows rise, his eyes growing hopeful as his gaze swivels between Weston and me.
“Yes,” Weston says tightly, and my father’s eyes widen slightly. Weston clears his throat, and his voice lowers. “But we were unsuccessful in obtaining it.”
Father’s face and shoulders fall as the same acceptance we’ve had months and years to come to terms with washes over him. A heavy silence fills the space between us, but no one moves, not until my father nods slowly, as if to himself, before his eyes lift to mine.
“They say I have little time.” His shoulders shake as a fit of coughs overcomes his body. He takes a short, choked breath, and pain morphs his features. “I needed to speak to you before the end. My words may not mean much, but they still needed to be said.”
