Page 29 of Dragons Of Shadow and Sea

"Tell me about them?" She looks back at me, her quiet invitation seeming to hover in the still air.

Visions assault me as if from out of nowhere, though really, I carry them with me always.

"My father," I tell her, unable to keep the visions to myself.

"Yes?" She's returned to me, standing beside me, her soft hand on my arm.

"He was my world." My memories turn soft around the edges at her touch. I see my father's face, young and relaxed--a stark contrast to the man with worry lines etched in his brow, growing deeper every day the war raged on.

"I only knew him as a public figure."

"He was the same man, at home and in the world. Kind and warm. Compassionate and fair. But firm."

He suffered no fools, politically or personally. My brothers and I knew not to try to lie to him. Something in his magic helped him understand the truth beneath our words. His anger could be great, but never violent. His disappointment weighed like a stone.

"No matter what was happening in our kingdom, he took the time to be a father to us. He had so much wisdom. Such strength." My voice threatens to crack. "He gave the best hugs."

"He sounds like an amazing father."

"He was." I blink hard, my eyes stinging, but there's a lightness in my heart. "I was lucky to have him for as long as I did."

"You lost him too soon."

"We all made sacrifices."

Some days, the pain of thinking about them is too great to bear. But opening up the wound allows it to breathe. To be bathed in cool waters and heal.

She brushes her fingers against the back of my palm, pushing softness and sympathy into our bond. "You made too many, though, Malik."

She isn't wrong.

Like she can sense my thoughts--and surely, with the strength of our connection, she can, she asks, "Tell me about your brothers?"

It's a stab in my chest, but I'm ready for it. "My oldest brother was so serious."

She lets out a small laugh. "Because you're such a jokester."

I shake my head, but the pain is receding already. "I am serious because of circumstance. Amir was born with a neck made strong enough to bear the crown."

She regards me as I allow myself to get lost in memories of my brother's emerald eyes, his deep and commanding voice. She lifts her hand to my nape, and I lean into the touch. "Your neck seems plenty strong to me."

It is. Someday, I will take on the mantle of responsibility for my kingdom.

But I wish I didn't have to.

I cover her hand with my own, pulling it from my neck and cradling it gently. "Bazel. My other brother--the middle one. He was the jokester."

Always laughing, always playing pranks. Even in our darkest hours, he kept a smile on our faces.

And then he was gone.

She gives me a moment as my grief threatens to overwhelm me. The hurt is less heavy than it used to be. Her soft touch and kind words and open questions have given me the space to really let the air into the dark places in my chest. Maybe that's part of her magic. Or maybe it's just her.

"What about you?" she asks, her voice soft.

"Me?" It seems strange that she should ask, and yet it also makes sense. I'm speaking about my father and brothers here, but I'm mourning the part of myself that I lost when they died, too. The part that was a brother. A son. Part of a big, happy, whole family. "I was the quiet one. Always watching. Taking everything in."

"I can see it." A smile curls her lips, and she's so beautiful and understanding that she seems unreal. But then her smile falters. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that alone."

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