It’s odd to see my fearless shifter tear up, but the sight is beautiful all the same. There’s a preciousness to Gray’s face now. Hope makes him look years younger. It’s a shame to know some people would want it stamped out of him forever. There’s a beauty to Gray that shines as his eyes glisten. I cannot believe the world tried to rob him of something so important as hope.
Gray clears his throat. “I’d like that, brother.” He motions to himself. “Are you sure? Maybe someone else is better suited for the job.”
“I’m positive. No one else could hold their own in a fae-dominated room like you can. Plus, ruling isn’t about having all the answers. It’s mostly listening and protecting, both of which come natural to you.”
“I, um… I…” Then, with much effort, Gray stands. “Excuse me.”
I rush to his side, unwilling to let him put more weight on his bum leg than is necessary. “Gray, wait! Sit down, pumpkin. You shouldn’t be walking this much.”
Paxton appears at his other side, and together, we get him to sit back down. “Did I say something wrong?”
Finally, a tear falls down Gray’s devastatingly handsome face. “I just never dreamed anyone would let the world change like that.” Gray’s shoulders shake, so we both hold him, keeping our threesome together when one of us is falling apart. “That’s when I realized how small I’ve let my dreams become. I couldn’t even fathom it. Still can’t.” He leans into me. “My people have forgotten how to dream.”
Paxton palms the back of Gray’s head. “You will be their wildest dream for a while, Gray. Watching you represent them on the council will remind them of everything I know they bring to the table. You are needed, brother.”
Gray holds onto my elbow and kisses my lips, needing something to anchor him to the spot. When he presses his forehead to mine, he whispers, “Don’t let me let them down.”
“You couldn’t possibly,” Paxton assures him.
Sander stands, dipping his head in our direction. “I’ll see myself out. My advice would be to stay indoors as much as possible. The press will want their story, so until you’ve got your grieving orphan faces in place, best wait in here.”
Once I’m sure Paxton has a firm hold on Gray, I move to the chief. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for everything.”
Sander shrugs. “All I did was believe a change could come. My job is to clear a path for you, so you can light the way to something brighter.” Then he reaches into his pocket and hands me a second peppermint candy.
The gesture makes me feel like a little girl, unweighted by the woes of the world.
Sander wears a wry smile that holds too many emotions for me to sift through. “Whatever you need, you call me. Understood?”
I shouldn’t hug the man my father has always hated. Their distrust for each other has gone on for ages. But as I throw my arms around Sander’s lanky frame, I know the animosity ends here.
I want to tell Sander how much this whole exchange has meant to me, but words are trite right now. So instead, I hug this man who understands the long road that led us here. He will stand with me, and lend me all his resources, while I walk down the unblazed trail ahead.
Sander palms the back of my bald head, and for a second, I miss my dad.
For the briefest of moments, I bury my sins in this man’s shoulder.
Then I lift my head, ready to make my wildest dreams come true.
22
Funeral, Family and Future
Paxton
I don’t care that I haven’t sat down all day. It doesn’t even bother me how rushed the funeral arrangements were. Some of it was on autopilot: the kings of the past were all buried according to a set list of specifications, so Father will receive the same treatment.
As will I, someday.
But as I dress on the morning my father is to be laid out for the entire world to see, I can’t recall the simplest of things. The dress military jacket feels strange on me, like it’s too large and the medals too heavy. It buttons up to my throat, but it really shouldn’t. I can hardly breathe as it is. The red sash across my chest is constrictive, but I know bucking tradition because of discomfort isn’t in the cards for a soon-to-be king.
“You haven’t eaten anything today,” comes a voice that instantly relaxes my shoulders.
Ah. Now my jacket fits better.
I turn to greet Arlanna, but words desert my brain as she glides toward me.
Someone like Arlanna doesn’t walk; she sashays as if she’s floating on clouds. Her knee-length black lace dress fits her like a glove. She’s even wearing a lace veil with a black netting that comes down over the top half of her face. She’s a vision, but her focus is on me.
Her red lips are tight as she fixes my sash. “Will you eat a few bites from your breakfast tray?”
“I’m not hungry.”
She picks up a grape from the silver platter by our bed and presses it to my lips. “I’m worried you’ll faint in the middle of the funeral.”
I let her feed me the grape, a few apple slices and a spoonful of oatmeal. It’s our habit as of late, where I’m overly concerned with her health, ignoring my own, and she’s always preoccupied with mine. Poor Gray has had his hands full with us both, making sure we’re at least functional for the many meetings that just keep on coming.
I let her feed me because she needs to, and she doesn’t refuse Gray or me when we hover too closely over her. The dysfunction is necessary, but temporary. I hear this is what grieving is like. At least that’s what everyone keeps telling me.
“You set me free, you know,” I tell her when her eyes mist over. “By protecting me like you did in the cabin, you stopped anyone from being hurt by him ever again.”
I know her pain well, because it matches my own. There’s the grieving over your father, who is a man no one else is sad to lose. Then there’s the fear that I might turn on her because she killed my father. It’s anxiety mingled with grief, and in just a few minutes, our every movement will be on display for the entire world to judge.
She doesn’t push away the logic, though I can tell she wants to. Instead she nods, and folds herself into my arms. Her head rests on my shoulder, where it belongs. “You set me free, too. You and Gray both. It’s just a matter of getting through today.”
When Sloan and Gray come to fetch us minutes later, we still haven’t had the strength to break our embrace. “Come now, kids. It’s time.”
Arlanna makes a point wherever she goes in public to never be escorted on a man’s arm, even Sloan’s. She’s been a queen her whole life.
My mum’s ring burning a hole in my pocket is the one missing piece.
Sloan leads the way down the many halls of the palace. He’s made himself comfortable since he moved in this week, along with Arlanna and Gray.
Charlotte and Cassia opted to run the Commune of Sinners and stay in Arlanna’s house at the camp, though they’ve come by every day since we moved into the palace. It’s odd living without those two, but they’re fulfilling their destiny by giving all the ex-cons purpose and protection.