Page 47 of Courting the Dragon Prince
Luther only spoke to him if completely necessary, and those were normally short and sharp sentences. Otherwise, he ignored Onyx entirely.
Since the quest, Onyx had replayed the events of the day over and over. He’d seen another side to Luther during the quest. He’d seen a competent, brave, and intelligent man, one who cared for others. He had traits Onyx could admire.
Every time Onyx meditated and tried to clear his mind, that night would invade his thoughts. He’d think of Luther’s laugh. Of his smile. He’d think of that brief moment when Onyx had hoped they might have a tolerable marriage.
Then it had all gone to hell.
Luther had suggested they go upstairs. He’d been hurt when Onyx turned him down.
Of course, Onyx had wanted to go upstairs with Luther. He should have explained his reasons better. He should have been mindful not to reject Luther so directly. He should have been less blunt at the very least.
Or perhaps he should have discussed his decision with Luther rather than just telling him why it should be that way.
Onyx sighed. He felt so out of his depth.
Why couldn’t he express himself properly? Why couldn’t Luther react less harshly?
Onyx wished he could go to his sister and talk with her about his problems. In moments like this, he missed her more than he could express.
His feet led him to the tearoom where his mother so often spent her days. She sat slumped on the settee. An empty glass stood before her on the table. Purple liquid coated the bottom.
There’d been a time he would have gone to his mother for advice. It was hard to remember in moments like this, but there had been a time when his mother had been there for him. Even when he’d trained at the Mystic Mountain Temple, they’d been frequent correspondents. She’d often sent him letters filled with advice, encouragement, and love.
Now his mother sat right before Onyx, yet Onyx missed his mother so much.
The day Tourmaline died, he’d lost the two closest people to him.
Onyx entered. “Morning, Mother.” Onyx sat opposite her.
After a moment, she turned her glazed gaze towards him. “Onyx,” his mother croaked. She smiled weakly at him. “How are you today?”
Onyx sucked in a breath of air. A spark of hope lit in his chest. This was new. She didn’t normally show any interest in him.
“I’m a bit worried, honestly,” Onyx confessed. “About my upcoming marriage.”
A crease appeared between her brows. “You’re getting married?”
Onyx swallowed his disappointment. “Yes. As part of the peace treaty. Remember?”
“Oh. Right.” She stared at the empty glass in front of her for several long moments. “I wish Tourmaline could have been here to see her younger brother get married.”
“Me too. Should we go for a walk, Mother?” Onyx asked, trying to distract his mother from dwelling on Tourmaline.
He didn’t know why he tried. Distracting her never worked.
“Tourmaline would have made an excellent grand warden. So competent and clever.”
“Yes. She would have been,” Onyx said. “Now should we check out the rock garden? The monks have done an excellent job creating one.”
“She would have been a wonderful ruler.” His mother turned her head and stared at the green wall, seemingly forgetting Onyx was even there. “A great ruler.”
Onyx clasped his hands tightly in his lap until he thought the bones would crack. It had been silly to hope that his mother might be aware enough to pay him any attention.
After several minutes, he rose. He didn’t bother saying goodbye.
What point was there? All her thoughts centred on the daughter who’d died and not the son who still lived.
Leaving the tearoom, Onyx considered returning to his room. Instead, he wandered the monastery, with no notion of where he walked. He just needed to keep moving. He left the Grey Mountains rooms and wandered the upper monastery.
