Page 142 of Reign of Light
“I can’t go back yet,” I murmur, knowing that he likely didn’t hear me from the roar of the crashing water around us.
He leans forward, angling his ear toward my lips and grumbles, “Tell me again.”
It takes every ounce of strength I can muster right now to find my voice, and try to keep it from cracking under the pain, but try as I might, it disobeys me and does, anyway. “I can’t leave yet. Take me home.”
He nods before turning to press a kiss to my forehead and straightening once more as he strides across the platform, gesturing to Edmond to follow him to the opposite side of the bridge.
“May I ask if you were successful?” Edmond says once we are back on solid ground, and I feel Weston nod.
“We were this time.”
My lip trembles, and my hands tighten around the glass.
“Ah, I see. Are you ready to return then?” Edmond asks.
“No, Pop. We’re staying the night. There’s a ship in the cove, well, there was. Hopefully, it is still there. That’s where I lived. That’s where we’ll be.”
“I will be here when you are ready.”
“There’s space on my ship. Where are you going to stay?”
“In the Guardian’s home, of course.”
If I had the energy to respond, I would ask Edmond about the Guardian’s home, but I can’t. It doesn’t surprise me, though, that while I spent so much time trying to figure out if there was any specific place for the Guardian while I searched for answers on the island, Edmond already knew them, just from spending a few hours with Horace. While it feels like a dagger to the stomach knowing I am losing yet another important person in my life, it brings me joy Edmond is now the Guardian of Dawnlin. It feels like the magic is right again, and all the lost knowledge has been found.
“Goodnight, Pop.”
Weston cradles me closer as he walks along the path through the trees. I don’t move or make a sound. Instead, my eyes flutter closed, and I just listen to the rustle of the leaves and the pounding of his heart. After a few minutes, the comforting sound of waves crashing hits my ears, and when his pace doesn’t slow, I know the ship must still be there,waiting for us. Maybe it never left, or maybe the island brought it back the moment it knew I wasn’t ready to leave.
The pounding of Weston’s boots on the gangway is loud, and I let out a deep sigh.
Home. This ship is the only place that has truly ever felt like home.
And I might forget it forever.
I finally peek out from where I’ve stayed tucked away, and see that it’s almost dark now, the suns having fallen enough to barely peek over the horizon. Torches whoosh around us as they catch fire, lighting the deck as Weston steps onto it, and I let out a breath heavy with exhaustion.
Today has been too much. All I want is to curl into Weston’s body, close my eyes and fall asleep, making all my problems disappear. But at the same time, I want to stay awake, soaking up every second, every movement, every touch, every sound, out of fear of never having them again.
We descend the steps, turn down the hallway, and head straight to our room. The ship is silent, and just like the last time we were alone and it was this quiet, I don’t like it. But I need to be alone with him. I need time to figure this out, without the pressure of running a kingdom and rebuilding everything after my father’s death.
I need him, and only him, with no distractions.
The lanterns flicker to life the moment we step inside our room, and as I take it all in, a fresh wave of grief washes over me.
“Let me run you a bath,” Weston says, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “And I’ll get us something to eat.”
I barely nod, and I don’t know if he even sees it. I’m too upset, too completely paralyzed by what happened tonight to coax my voice to life. He sets me down softly in his chair, and his hands are gentle as he takes the vials out of mine, placing them on the desk behind me with a soft thud. My shoulders sink, and I curl in on myself as I wrap my arms around my torso, trying to fight the sinking feeling deep in my stomach.
Memories flash repeatedly in my mind at the sound of rushing water and the filling tub, and my chin quivers. Squeezing my eyes shut, I replay them all: struggling to sleep after his first shift as I listened to him bathe, trying to convince him we were friends before he promised to take me to the island and tell me more of the truth, lazily soaking in the hot water with him after letting him consume my body and take everything I had left to give.
They’ll all be gone. Every single one of those memories. I had to fight so hard to make all of them happen, all for different reasons, and now, it feels like it was pointless, because either he or I won’t remember a thing.
Blurred boots appear in my tear-filled line of sight as he steps back in front of me and gently takes my hands, pulling me to stand. Every movement is quick but caring, purposeful but compassionate. He pulls the dagger from my waistband, setting it next to the vials before loosening the laces on my bodice, tugging and sliding the material over my skin until I’m freed from the staff uniform.
Where just hours ago this would have made me want to drag him straight to bed, it’s different now. His actions aren’t full of lust and desire. They’re filled with comfort and understanding and love. He knows the decision that lies before me. He made it mine, but that doesn’t mean he will not help me through it.
My skirt falls to the floor next, and I grip his forearms as I step out of it, and he makes quick work of my undergarments before sweeping me up into his arms again and walking me over to the tub. My skin screams as he slowly lowers me into the water, but I welcome the heat. I want to feel a different pain and am grateful for the distraction as I pull my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them.
