Page 64 of Reign of Light
“If you really are hungry, I?—”
A yell echoes from above us, and Weston jerks to a halt. My body tenses, because it isn’t just the sound that has me snapping my head back up toward the main deck.
“WESTON!”
No one ever calls him by his name.
He lowers me quickly to the floor, and my feet hit the deck with a loud thud as tension pulls at his shoulders.
“WESTON!” It’s louder this time, more urgent, and I know that voice.
Something’s wrong.
“Jorn,” I whisper, looking up at Weston, the same look of confusion mixed with panic I’m sure I have on my face reflected in his.
Weston’s head snaps to the mast, his neck craning back as far as it can as he peers into the darkness.
“WESTON, GET UP HERE NOW!”
We barely look at each other before we both take off, running straight for the mainmast.
What could have Jorn so out of sorts that he’s calling Weston by his name? I’ve never heard him use anything but Cap or the captain. But the sound of his voice, the repeated cries. This isn’t the Jorn I know.
We need to find out right fucking now.
Weston’s long legs carry him across the deck faster than mine. He stops at the base of the mast, spinning and planting his feet. The moment I’m in front of him, he wraps his hands around my waist, hoisting me over his head high enough that I can grab hold of the ropes and pull myself up. He’s next to me in an instant, climbing faster than I’ve even seen Jorn move. I follow behind, the ache from exertion all afternoon completely gone as worry and nerves take over. I climb, keeping my focus trained on Weston’s back and my handholds so I don’t fall to my death.
“What the fuck is going on, Jorn?” Weston yells as we near the top.
Jorn’s face appears hanging over the edge of the crow’s nest. His skin is ashen, his eyes wide as he splutters. “I-I-I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before. I’m here all the time, you know that.Allthe time. It’s never…I never…”
I plant my feet on the last crossbeam next to where Weston balances and grab hold of his belt, stabilizing myself before I look up at them.
“What?” Weston snaps, and Jorn lifts his arm, pointing past us, toward the island.
Our heads turn almost in unison, and as I stare through the darkness out over the land, my breath stills in my chest. My knees threaten to give out from under me, and I grip Weston’s belt harder, my mouth falling open in complete disbelief.
I snap my head back to his, and his lips are parted, his eyes as wide as Jorn’s. The wind whips at us, threatening to knock us off the mast, but there’s no fear. His hand settles on the small of my back, holding me firmly against him, and his eyes finally break away from the sight.
That’s when I see it.
What I thought he lost is now shining brightly.
Shining as brightly as the golden glow settled deep in the pitch-black forest on the far side of the island.
Hope.
“Light always finds a way,” I mutter over the whistle of the wind around us.
“Even through the blackest woods,” Weston finishes.
“Edmond…” I say, my voice barely a whisper, and a breath huffs in Weston’s chest.
“He was trying to tell us how to get home,” he grumbles. “This whole fucking time, he was telling us how to get home.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Find Sig. NOW!” Weston yells as I leap off the bottom rung of the mast into his arms. The climb down was a blur. My arms and legs moved so quickly, it felt like I was flying. He catches me easily and launches me toward the steps. I descend them quickly, my boots pounding into the wood as he and Jorn run behind me, but instead of following down the second set of steps, they peel off down the hallway.
