Page 53 of Reign of Light
The golden glint of his ring catches my eye again, and I reach out from under the blanket, wrapping my fingers around his hand and bringing it to my lap. The seal stamped into the surface is rough on the pad of my thumb as I rub my finger over it.
If it weren’t for this ring, everything would be different.
If it weren’t for this ring, Weston wouldn’t be in Dawnlin.
But if he had never come to Dawnlin, none of this would have happened. We wouldn’t have happened. He never would have come looking for the healing waters to save my mother. He never would have been trapped in this time, in this age, and we would have passed by each other, only ever interacting with formalities and decorum.
But if it weren’t for this ring, if we were back home like he secretly wanted, we might have a future.
“I could make you take it off, you know.” My voice is barely a whisper, and I don’t know if I’m even saying it to him or just to myself. He must hear me, and his fingers wrap around mine.
“If you did, I’d be just another citizen of Blackwood. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to be anywhere near you.” His voice quiets even more, and his fingertips slowly stroke mine. “Please don’t take that away from me.”
I lace my fingers through his, and squeeze his hand tightly. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no kingdom anymore.”
“Even so, promise me you won’t.”
I swallow hard, hoping this will be the end of the guilt I feel. It’s true. There is no kingdom anymore. His ring doesn’t matter. Whether he wears it or not is up to him, despite everything it symbolizes.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Silence stretches between us again as I stare into the flames, clutching his hand as if he will disappear if I let go. The edge of his ring digs into my palm, a constant reminder of what would have happened to us, to this, if we had gone home.
“I have other regrets.” His voice trails off and is almost too quiet to hear over the popping of the burning wood and the laughter of the others.
I stay quiet, hoping he’ll tell me, and he doesn’t make me wait long.
“Sometimes I regret letting Dane live for so long. I should have killed him a long time ago.”
The breath is sucked from my chest. If he had, he would be tethered to Dawnlin forever. He’d be the Guardian, the one who brought me here instead of Dane, and then I’d never see him again. Neither of us would ever know what we were missing, because none of this would have ever happened.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he speaks again.
“If I had, every one of them would be home.” He nods toward the crew and the Voyagers all around us. “I was selfish.”
The blanket falls to my hips as I sit up abruptly, and turn until I’m facing him. “How could you say that? After everything you have done for everyone here? You are not selfish, Weston. Not at all. You kept them safe this entire time and kept Dane from finding the healing waters. Risking yourself, the sleepless nights, the worry, putting yourself in front of them? That was all sacrifice. Nothing you did was selfish.”
“I selfishly chose my life instead of theirs. And when I had a chance again…” His eyes hold mine, and I know he’s remembering that night, when he had the tip of his sword pressed into Dane’s neck. How easily he could have ended it all. His jaw works, but his gaze stays strong. “I selfishly chose you.”
I take his face in my hands, and he winces slightly at my touch, his guilt-ridden features causing agony to course through my body.
“It isn’t selfish to do something for yourself, Weston, especially not when you’ve given your entire life to other people. You’re allowed to choose yourself and have a life outside of your duty.”
I bite back my shock at the statement. Am I telling him, or am I telling myself? Everything I have done or chosen has been for my duty, for my kingdom, for my future role. The first time I did something for myself was coming here to save my mother, but even then there was more to my decision.
But it isn’t about me, not right now. This is about Weston, about the pain and guilt and regret I see in his eyes. He’s been holding this in for years, and he needs to know he didn’t make a mistake. He wasn’tselfish. He didn’t choose wrong, and he wasn’t responsible for this either, just like he told me.
His eyes dart between mine, and I rise onto my knees and tilt his head back. I look into his eyes, hoping he sees the severity on my face, the urging for him to let it go and forgive himself. If the only way for him to do so is to take the burden off his shoulders, then that is what I have to do.
“I love you, Weston. If anything should make you feel less selfish, it’s that. You didn’t make that decision for nothing. You made it for you, but you made it for me too.”
His jaw unclenches beneath my palms and the tension in his shoulders relaxes just slightly, as if I’ve taken a weight off. I can carry it for him. It’s my duty to shoulder the burden for my people, and Weston is one of them. I lean in just a little closer and keep my eyes locked on his.
“You have nothing to regret or feel guilty about. It wasn’t your choice. It was mine.” His throat bobs with a swallow, and I stroke the pad of my thumb over his stubble-covered cheek. “I told you not to kill him. Consider that an order. You can’t feel guilty or selfish about something that wasn’t yours to decide.”
His chest rises and falls with a harsh breath just before his hand finds the back of my head, his fingers weaving into my hair. He pulls me down, crushing my lips into his. My arms wrap around his neck as his lips move, opening them and sliding his tongue against mine to deepen the kiss.
He grabs my jaw, his grip gentle but commanding as he doesn’t let me go, holding me and telling me everything he’s feeling with his body instead of his words. Lifting my knees, I set them next to his hips and sink into his lap, so I can feel the rise and fall of each breath as our chests and hips mold together.
