Page 38 of Reign of Light
A traitorous tear falls down my cheek as I whisper softly, “I miss him.”
“I miss him too, sweetheart.” Pressing my back more firmly into the wall, he wraps my legs around his body, then leans forward, resting his chin on my chest. His eyes sparkle as he looks up at me before he murmurs. “Will you tell me stories about him?”
“Of course.” His lips curve at the corners, and he waits quietly, patiently, as memories come flooding back. Ones I hadn’t thought about in years become so clear and vivid in my mind, so I recount them. With every story, Weston relaxes, the muscles in his shoulders and face loosening, but his smile stays in place. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.
It wasn’t until the third story about a time I defied Edmond or skipped lessons that the realization hit me. With each story, I’m not only telling him about his father, I’m telling him about me.
I didn’t want to tell him I was worried about us running out of life to reminisce on, or him becoming tired of me, but my fears aren’t warranted. There are so many things I can tell him about, so many stories. There’s more to me than just being the isolated princess of Blackwood.
Hours pass as we sit in the magic-imbued water, sharing stories of our childhood as the storm rages around us. We laugh, I cry, but we never let each other go as I tell him all about the time I got to spend with the father he will never see again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time the suns crest the horizon, the storm has run its course. The dark clouds overhead brighten, and we finally decide to pull ourselves from the spring and head back to the ship. Clothed and looking less disheveled than when we came, we make our way back through the tunnels, knowing there’s a chance now that it is light that we will run into an early riser.
But Weston veers off, leading us in a different direction, and I glance back over my shoulder, questioning my memory. “Wasn’t that the turn?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Then where are we going?” Torches light before us as we weave through, getting to a stretch where the ground ramps up before us.
“We’re going to go give the Voyagers a choice.”
Warmth blooms in my chest knowing Weston’s worries are now at peace. After the morning we had, the talk about choice, the memoriesof Edmond and his lessons, and whatever influence from the calming water, I’m happy knowing the difficult decision is no longer weighing on Weston’s shoulders.
The tunnel opens near the entrance to camp, and it feels strange being back here again, after the finality of the last time I left. Even though it was only days ago that I walked this same trail, my hand in Dane’s as he led me away from the safe house where I planned to meet Sig, I never expected to be back so soon and so willingly.
“After you,” Weston says, gesturing to the dense jungle we traipse through to get to the portal.
“Do you know the way?” I take the lead, and he follows closely behind.
“Yes, but I’ve never been inside. Jorn showed me one night, but we didn’t risk going through the portal. I don’t know if the island would have allowed us.”
“I never thought about that before. Dane always perpetuated the fear of the Castaways sneaking into camp, and none of us ever considered the island closing the portal to you.” I glance back just as he shrugs.
“It might have; it might not have. Maybe it knew if we were found we’d be attacked. That would negate all the work it did to keep us concealed. Who knows? I guess we never will.”
Pushing aside the vines covering the portal, I gesture him forward. He grabs my hand as he steps through, and the overwhelming feeling of magic surrounds us until we are on the other side.
It didn’t stop us.
The clearing is empty, and the sound of water dripping from the leaves of the soaked trees is the only noise in the entire space. Weston’s expression is neutral as he looks around, taking everything in.
“So this is camp.” His eyes trail over the wooden pathways, following them around the entire circle. The torches are dim in the early morning hours, and I assume, because of the storm, everyone is tucked away safely in the cabin.
“This is camp,” I say, and take it in again myself.
It still doesn’t feel like home. Bitterness coats my tongue as I think about all the lies I was told here, and the way I was convinced to see everything through Dane’s eyes.
“I like my ship better,” he grumbles, and I let out a laugh.
“I do too,” I say, turning and walking backward toward the ladder. “Come on, this way.”
I reach up and pull the ladder down from where it is hidden and climb, my loose and relaxed muscles straining with the sudden exertion. The ladder pulls taut as Weston ascends behind me, making it easier to push my tired body up onto the platform. He’s on it just behind me, again looking around and getting his bearings, so I quickly point out the main features.
“The bunks are on either side. The tavern where we ate is back there. The armory is over there. It’s all pretty simple. We didn’t spend a lot of time here except in the evenings because we were all out searching.”
“So where is everyone then?” he asks, looking around.
