Page 38 of Kiss of Death
The guard gave a nod and stepped aside.
I crossed the castle to the royal bedchambers, checked in with the guard, and then made my way to the dining room. We’d often had dinner there together as a family during my childhood. When I walked inside, my father was where I expected him to be, at the head of the table.
In a black shirt with a hint of silver from the platinum visible beneath his sleeves and his neckline, he sat with his back slightly hunched like he was still weary. The muscles in his arms and shoulders weren’t as big as they had been before, probably because his muscles had lost their strength from being sedentary so long.
But his eyes lit up at the sight of me as they always did—and a tad more now.
When I approached the table, he didn’t get up to hug me like he normally would, probably still too weak to do so.
So I bent down and hugged him.
His arms circled me, and he gave me a hard hug before he let me go.
The table had two coffees along with a plate of scones and muffins that appeared untouched.
My father stared at me for a long time, the emotion in his eyes on the verge of becoming tears. He regarded me like he hadn’t seen me in a long time, like I’d physically changed since the last time he’d looked upon my face.
I knew I’d changed internally, but had I changed externally too?
As if we didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore, we continued to look at each other.
My father eventually put his open palm on the table between us.
Without looking at it, I placed my hand there.
His fingers immediately folded over my hand and enveloped it in complete safety.
The safety I’d been wanting every day since he’d been gone. I’d felt so alone all this time, wanting to turn to him every single day, always wondering what he would have done in my shoes.
Now I didn’t have to wonder.
“The war has ended for everyone—except for you.”
My breath caught slightly at his words.
“I understand this, all too well.” He continued to hold my hand, his hand warm now that life had returned to his limbs. “I’m sorry that you carried this burden alone.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “But Lily Rothschild, my daughter, you were the only one who could do it.”
My eyes dropped to our joined hands.
“Khazmuda and Zehemoth shared your journey with me. Told me about your troubles with King Ithaca, the way he tried to manipulate you, but you manipulated him better. The way you recruited the Brigandine Empire to fight for the Southern Isles, even when their alliance to me was forfeit in my comatose state. That you faced a navy stronger than ours, filled with vampires thrice as strong who shot our dragons from the sky…and turned them into their kind. That you held back their army single-handedly and protected the village from a massacre. That you secured an alliance with vampires I’ve never heard of, and they turned the battle in our favor. And you had to make the hardest decision of all…to let me go so others might live.”
My eyes immediately dropped as the shame and guilt nearly knocked me off my feet.
“Lily.” He squeezed my hand to force me to look at him.
My eyes watered from the agony of that decision.
“Lily,” he said more gently.
I sniffed before the tears fell. Sniffed again before I raised my chin and looked at him.
His eyes lightened, and they even had a look of pride in them. “That was the right decision—the decision of a queen. I’m so proud of you for making it.”
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done?—”
“I know,” he said gently. “But you know I wouldn’t have wanted Khazmuda and his family and my family and my people to die for me. I would have wanted them to let me go for the chance at victory, so the Southern Isles would flourish under your rule, so generations of people and dragons could live on.”
All I could muster was a slight nod. “But if it were me, you wouldn’t let me go.”
