Page 13 of Reign of Light
“Don’t leave.” I pull my gaze back to him, watching, but he only looks back at me. His fingers flex on my hip, but his face stays emotionless, and my curiosity piques.
“I can see why you thought I caught you.”
I huff a laugh. “I thought we were about to have the worst fight, even worse than when I first met you. I was prepared for you to rage at me.”
“I did rage, you just weren’t there to see it.”
“Poor Sig,” I say with a wince.
“Don’t feel sorry for her. She knew what she was doing.”
“It was for everyone. Including you, remember?”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean I liked it.”
“You should know a thing or two about doing what needs to be done to help everyone else.” My fingers skate over the exposed skin on the back of his neck, and he leans into the touch ever so slightly.
“Right. I don’t want you to have to do it.”
A comfortable quiet falls between us, and his face relaxes as I slowly stroke his neck, and graze my fingers through the hair at his nape. I want to gather the courage to ask what I was really wondering, but part of me worries we aren’t at the point where he would reveal that information to me. Sucking in a quick breath, I look away again, and let the question spill from my mouth.
“What were you dreaming about?”
A moment passes before he answers, and my chest swells knowing I was wrong, that he trusts me enough to know something that could make him seem vulnerable.
“I only ever have one nightmare. Clearly I don’t remember every time I have it, because I didn’t know you were aware, so I don’t know how often it comes back. I don’t make it a habit of sleeping beside anyone else, so there has been no one to tell me I talk in my sleep.”
“What happens?” I ask.
The lump in his throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and his other hand settles on my thigh. His thumb moves in leisurely strokes, and I wonder if he’s ever actually told anyone about the dream before.
“Remember when I told you I lost my mother when I was young?”
I nod, but stay quiet. I don’t want him to stop talking now that he’s started. I want to hear his story, to know more about his past and what made him the man he is, even the difficult times.
“She was sick, getting worse each day. One night, she took a steep turn. It was the worst she had ever been, and the healers had no more answers. My father had been by her side during every moment he was home, but on this night, he had to leave. He said he needed to travel to another kingdom for his work. I was young, and scared of losing my mother, and I didn’t want him to leave.”
He clears his throat and looks down at where his hand rests on my thigh.
“She died the next day,” he murmurs. “And he was gone. He returned the day after, devastated he wasn’t able to say goodbye. Theywere…” He trails off, as his head lifts, and he looks out over the ship, no doubt remembering his parents from so long ago. A soft smile graces his lips. “They were everything. They taught me what love was supposed to look like, and to see my father after she died…It makes me feel more guilty leaving him alone for the rest of his life.”
I place my hand on top of his and twine our fingers together, squeezing them tightly. “It must have been a great thing to have witnessed.”
“It was,” he says with a soft nod. “Anyway, the dream is just reliving that night. The night he left and the night she died.”
“I’m sorry,” I say gently. “I can imagine that was really hard as a child.”
His eyes meet mine again, and there’s a hint of sadness despite the remnants of the memory-filled smile. “You shouldn’t have to imagine. You know exactly what it is like.”
I shake my head. “It isn’t the same, at least I don’t think it is. I never got to know her like you knew your mother. Instead, I had to mourn what I never had, and accept that I never would. I um…”
My voice trails off as I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. I haven’t thought about the journal Edmond gave me in a while. Hearing Weston recount his nightmares of his mother’s passing and the love he watched extinguish between his parents brings up a wave of memories of the entries tucked away between the leather covers. Now that healing my mother is impossible, the loss and grief are like a reopened wound, the pain even more than the first time I opened the worn leather cover.
It’s my turn to clear my throat as I push through the pain to continue.
“Before I left, I came across an old journal. She wrote it when she was pregnant. Every entry was addressed to me. It brought up a lot of repressed feelings, especially after the healers were telling my father that it was time to let her go. I wasn’t ready. It’s actually the reason I started looking for Dawnlin. I tried to find other answers, but when I couldn’t, I didn’t want to give up hope. So I came here.”
“I didn’t know she did that,” he murmurs. “I don’t think Rem knew either.”
