“I fear it is time that we must speak.”
“About what?”
Edmund patted the bed again. “Sit down.”
“I told you that I will collapse the bed.”
“Then we shall both end up on the floor together.”
War didn’t want to dump his father out onto the cold floor, so he looked around the chamber, spying a heavy oak chair near the hearth. Grabbing it, he carried it back over to his father’s bedside and sat down.
“There,” he said. “I would prefer not to break your bed if I can at all help it. Now, what is so important that we must speak now? You must rest. Whatever you have on your mind can wait.”
Reaching out, Edmund took his hand. That simple gesture weakened War’s composure a little because, suddenly, he was a little boy again with his father holding his hand. The initial shock of his father’s worsening condition faded and the grief began to come. All he could do was stare at that big, strong hand.
The hand that had always been there for him.
“I am afraid it cannot wait,” Edmund said after a moment. “I have waited an entire month for you to return from Thropton. Were you successful?”
“We were.”
“Good,” Edmund said. “But I have been waiting all that time for you to return. I did not want to miss my last moments with you.”
War began to realize that this was serious, indeed. Not that he didn’t know this moment would come, because he did. Hisfather’s heart was very weak. Even so, he wasn’t prepared for it and certainly not at this moment. As the weight of the situation began to bear down on him, he sighed heavily and hung his head.
“God,” he muttered. “Is this truly the end, Papa? Is this truly it?”
Edmund squeezed his hand. “Possibly,” he said. “Or, possibly it will be next week. Or next month. Or even tonight. I do not know. All I know is that I am weary, War. I want to go home. But before I go, I must tell you something.”
Still looking at the floor, War shook his head. “What?” he said. “That you love me? I know you do. I know you love Sterling and Cal, too. I will tell them of your love for them. You needn’t worry.”
“Nay,” Edmund said, squeezing his hand again to get his attention. “It is not that. It is something… else.”
“What else?”
Edmund took another deep breath. “War, I am not sure this is the right time, but with little time left, I have no choice,” he said. “You’ve only just returned from battle and I am certain you have duties to attend to, but none more important than this right now.”
He was right. War had duties to attend to with his army, but there was nothing more important at this moment.
He braced himself.
“I am listening, Papa.”
Edmund’s dark eyes glittered faintly as he looked at the lowered head of his son. “It seems that your mother and I have had a secret all of these years,” he said. “I had always promised her that I would tell you when the time was right, but it just never seemed… right. If I do not tell you now, you will never know and that seems wholly unfair to you.”
War’s head came up, his brow furrowed. “Secret?” he repeated. “What secret?”
“About you.”
“What about me?”
Edmund didn’t reply right away. Perhaps he was resolved to tell him, but he didn’t seem entirely willing to do it. In fact, he still seemed quite hesitant.
War leaned closer to him.
“What secret, Papa?”
Edmund couldn’t seem to look at him. “About you,” he said. “War, I have loved you since the moment you were born. I will love you until the end of time, as my son. That will never change.”
