“You just said that if I stayed, Elyria would have fallen to the gods earlier. It is inevitable, then, yes? So Ishouldhave stayed,shouldhave been here for you, helped you, given you grandchildren . . .”
My father waved a hand at me, silencing my tirade.
“Torin. Breathe.”
I closed my eyes, relishing his familiar command and desperately trying to calm my racing heart and spiraling thoughts.
It was all too much.
“Gods, I forgot how much like your mother you are,” he said on a dry chuckle. His humor and change of subject brought a reluctant smile to my lips as I ruefully shook my head. “Apparently, it’s only grown worse during your time away in the north.”
I hummed as my lips twitched. “Funny enough, I was consideredreticentwhen I first joined the Matriarch’s army. Cold,even.”
Laughter burst from my father’s chest, pulling a full grin to my lips. Hearing his joy was a balm to my aching soul, even as a second coughing fit followed. These were louder and more forceful, and I looked around desperately for water or some type of medicine to help him.
As if I projected my thoughts, the door to my father’s suite swung open. Immediately, I was on my feet, pulling at my Fire Magic with the intent of incinerating anyone who came close to my father.
A man near my father’s seventy-some years strode into the room; a tray balanced in his hands. Despite his blindness, my father’s milky gaze followed the man’s movements. A fond smile tilted the corner of his thin, chapped lips as a shaky hand reached out to clasp the manservant’s after the tray was abandoned on the low table. My father squeezed once, the manservant’s other hand briefly caressing my father’s skin, before he pulled away.
“Please call me if you need me, Kerem.” With that, he swept from the room, closing the door softly behind him.
We sat in companionable silence as my father finished his tea, the sun slowly descending toward the horizon until it was just peeking over the ocean, sending its last warm rays into the room and casting the furniture in an almost unearthly glow. Soon, the moon would rise as darkness fell, and Iluul would be blanketed in night that only felt colder by the absence of the relentless heat. With a sigh, I moved to stand, intent on pulling the movable wall that separated the balcony from his room closed, but my father stopped me with a gentle hand on my forearm.
“Leave it for a little longer, son. The cold reminds me of her and you.”
I sat on the couch this time, near enough to my father that I could inhale his sharp, spicy scent and feel the warmth of his body against my shoulder. I patted his hand where it rested on my arm and felt him squeeze in reply.
“So, my son, tell me of your time in the north.”
I sat against the back of the couch with a sigh, closing my eyes as I rifled through my memories, both old and new, good and bad.
“What do you want to know, Father?”
“Everything,” he begged. “Tell me everything.”
And so I did. For long hours, way past when the sun winked from the horizon with a quick flash of bright green over the water until the moon was high in the sky and the stars twinkled in greeting, I spoke. I told him about the north, my time in the Matriarch’s army; discovering my nature as a godling and training in Vespera; about rescuing the Bondsmith and my friendships with Peytor and Folami; about a little girl who called me “uncle” and a woman who called me hers.
“You have a woman?” He interrupted for the first time since I started speaking hours ago, a lightness to his expression that wasn’t there before.
I barked a hoarse laugh.
“Of all my tales, of all my harrowing adventures,that’swhat piqued your interest?”
He squeezed my arm tightly, an action he’d repeated over the hours whenever he felt I needed comfort or support.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Your mother was—is—the most important person to me. She was my backbone and comfort. I’d given up hope that you’d find someone who would be that for you. Tell me about her,” he commanded, and I obliged.
“She is . . .” I trailed off, my tone reverent and gaze far away as I thought about the woman who owned my heart and soul.
I must have paused longer than I thought because I felt pressure on my arm again as my father’s bony fingers dug into muscle.
“That incredible, hmm?” he asked wistfully and full of awe.
“Beyond what words can describe. She’s my true north, the light in my storm. She guides me home and rejuvenates my weary soul,” I paused. “There is nothing for me here if she is not by my side.”
My father was quiet, thoughtful.
“Whyareyou here, son?” he finally asked. Exhaustion laced his tone even as his face looked lighter than it had when I first saw him on the couch.
