Page 34 of A Reign of Roses
My stomach twisted. “Why not? Isn’t that why you’re here? Aren’t you two—”
“No—I…” When her sunflower eyes found mine again, they welled with regret. “I’m the one who gave you up.”
9
Kane
Shadowhold was not a placepartial to goodbyes. Barracks of soldiers meant the majority of those who lived here had calloused against the word years ago.
And that suited me just fine.
Griffin would tell Dagan and Lieutenant Eardley and all the rest where I’d gone. Better to spare them the discomfort and false encouragements of a formal send-off.
The hot water had barely registered across my skin as I’d bathed.
The pork and cider tasted like sawdust as I’d swallowed each bite.
Acorn slept in my quarters while I packed, and I didn’t bother to wake him. I didn’t know who that farewell would be more painful for.
But this bedroom—
Her melodic voice filtered in with every crisp breeze through my balcony. Her delicate movements—her arched back, those strong legs—conjured every time the gossamer around my bed shifted in thewind. I couldn’t spend another moment in this hollowed-out room. The heart of it had been scooped out like guts from a gourd.
I braced myself against my writing desk and the wood groaned under my weight.
The only loose end that itched at my conscience was Leigh.
She would most likely hear from Dagan that I’d returned and left once more without saying goodbye. I’d never see the little one again and she’d think I’d orchestrated it as such.
The thought guttered through my mind. She didn’t deserve that.
But the last time I’d seen her—
I couldn’t even make out her face when she’d launched herself in my direction. Heart in my throat, I’d pulled Leigh tightly into myself, felt her arms wrap around my waist, gripping the back of my leather armor, sobbing for her sister, begging me to tell her it wasn’t true…It had destroyed me. I couldn’t face those huge blue eyes now and admit I was leaving her, too.
I’d been so numb that day, I’d hardly muttered soothing hushes as I held Leigh, promising her all would be right.
And the truth was, it would be, for her.
Leigh would grow up in a world unthreatened by my father. I would make it so. She’d always miss her sister, of course. But soon she’d find ways to store that grief deep within herself. Or expel it in constructive, useful outlets. When I was gone, Griffin would purchase her and Ryder a cottage somewhere in Willowridge or a smaller, quieter town outside the capital. Or they could stay here, where Dagan could teach her to wield her sword like Arwen used to. Show her how to push the pain outward.
And one day Leigh would move on. She’d still cry occasionally. She’d tell her close friends, and teachers, and first love of her sister,the bravest, kindest person she’d ever known. The fabled savior of Evendell, and the girl who had run back into sure peril for the mother they both loved.
And one day Leigh would realize it had been months since she’d last thought of Arwen’s contagious smile or her chocolate-brown hair tied into a braid as she ran.
Leigh would be all right.
Mari, too. Dagan. Ryder.
And I—
I’d never wake up the same again. And that would be all right for me; I didn’t particularly want to. It would feel like a disgrace—a profound betrayal—to feel at ease. Laughing, grinning, joking when Arwen wasn’t here with me. It wasn’t something I’d ever be capable of.
So I wrote Leigh a letter. A short one, because I’d never had much of a way with words, and even if I had, there was no way to explain that truth: that she’d just have to wait for the grief to run its course.
I left it for her on my desk and headed for the stables.
I’d have to ride for Willowridge on a horse, since I couldn’t shift. By the time I drew near, my vacant chest—whatever space my heart had once occupied—had been encased once more in resolute, unfeeling steel. And I was grateful.
