Page 43 of Lost Starlight
“It’s hard being at home for me, so I often leave, but I feel as if I have done a disservice to my siblings. John can handle it, I guess, but I feel as though you are more like me, and some things Mother says must dig and cut deep inside of you.”
“It is hard to get Mother out of my mind,” I agreed.
“I am here if you ever wish to talk about it.” He placed a warm hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you, really, thank you,” I said.
He nodded and walked across the deck. I looked back out over the sea. Mother had always caused me such deep pain, as had my father. Him never telling Mother that what she did to me was wrong or cruel made me feel like he agreed with so many of the things she said. I confided in Peter about it. He knew I had a hard time with my mother, but when I told him the extent of it, he truly wished to imprison her or shame her in court—the place she loved most. I could not do that to her, though; I did not want that on my or Peter’s conscience. I just wanted peace. Being cruel back would not bring me the peace I desired.
I touched my right hand, which held the teacup, recalling a memory.
Two Months Before Present Day
Peter kissed my right hand as I told him about my mother’s cruelty and explained my home-life.
“I will go and speak with her,” he said.
“No, Peter, I do not wish for you to give her any punishment.”
“But she should not treat you so,” he said, caressing my cheeks and wiping away the tears.
“I will no longer allow her to do so. You have given me the strength to stand up to her. It may still take time, but I want the opportunity to do so.”
“You are a far better person than I am, Gwen.” He kissed my cheek.
“I want peace, Peter. I do not hate her–only her actions.”
“Again, so much better than me. Know this, she will not be allowed in the palace. I want you to have a safe place where you will be free from her. Once we are married, we will do as we wish.”
“I look forward to being in charge of my own life. I cannot wait for it, Peter.”
“You are mine, and I am yours, Lady Gwendolyn Darling. Your pains and concerns are also mine.”
“I am yours, and you are mine, Peter,” I said back, taking his hand and kissing it. His bright eyes always reminded me of starlight. Not because they were the color of stars, but because of the joy that trickled into his eyes against his dark irises.
“We shall find peace and safety here, and maybe a relationship away from your mother will bloom. If not, and she harms my wife, she shall be in the dungeons.”
“You are a poet, Peter!” I said.
“No, I just appreciate flowery language,” he said with a smirk. I pulled his hand toward me, causing him to press against my body. He wrapped his arms around me, securing us like a tether to each other.
“Flowery language, huh?”
“I know you love that the best.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as he leaned in to kiss me, then stopped.
He looked into my eyes, playfully.
“Whenever the books you read to me get descriptive, you are so clear in your speaking. The way you speak, it is as if you are crafting the magic of the scene with your reverence and awe. However, I still wish you would do thedifferent voices for me as you do for the children.” He gave a pout.
I kissed his lips softly and smiled. “You would laugh at my different voices,” I said.
“I would not; I would adore them.”
“Maybe, someday, I shall do them for you.”
“Fine, but I may die without it,” he said.
