“Your father told me something once,” Hallonnixmen said, eyes bright. “He said my best friend would need me one day to do something that he couldn’t. That was important for me to tell you, ‘It’s fine. It will all be fine. You are not alone, and this is as it was meant to be. You in the stars as your cousin helps you.’”
Monqilcolnen sobbed, shaking.
“It is my honor to help you, Monqilcolnen. You are my brother, my cousin, my best friend, and I would do anything for you,” Hallonnixmin said before turning around.
Part of me wanted to curse Jemtonkilsol with every fiber of my being. He had known this was coming. He had known his death was imminent and had made plans to protect and help his only kit. He’d done everything but tell Monqilcolnen. Another part of me wanted to thank him. If Monqilcolnen had known, he wouldn’t have been here, he wouldn’t have lived; he would’ve stayed by his father’s side. Jemtonkilsol had protected Monqilcolnen, and now, it was my turn.
Hallonnixmin walked forward and the screen followed his movements as the bay doors opened. It was a funeral deck. Not all ships had them, but many did. It was an outside balcony, which was covered in a shield so one could be right beside the stars. He continued walking down the length of the deck, no doubt followed by other people in the procession.
When he came to the edge, he said, “May the light of the stars forever shine with you.” Hallonnixmin pressed his hands outside of the shield, the gloves he wore allowing him to penetrate it. The two orbs began to glow brighter and brighter as soon as they connected with the void of space. They swirled around each other as they rose to the top of the funeral deck, then in a flash of light, they exploded outward. The ashes of Monqilcolnen’s parents spread over Drakcon space, and even further, joining the stars forevermore.
Chapter 62
A moment of silence.
Everyone had left some time ago, but Wyn and I remained on the observation deck. He was sitting between my legs as we simply looked at the stars around us—the stars my parents now inhabited. I curled my arms even tighter around Wyn, and he leaned his head to the side for me. I rested my chin on his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to his neck before returning to my observation.
We hadn’t spoken, which was a relief. In fact, no one had expected me to speak or respond to their kind words, also a relief. I had no words. How was I supposed to sum up the tumultuous emotions raging through me? They were too broad,too encapsulating, and too much to even form thoughts about them.
I was rage. I was sadness. I was grief. I was hurt. I was disbelief. I was fear. I was numbness. I was emptiness. I was all of these things and none of these things. I was more than this and less than this. I had no idea what I was or what I felt. None of the serenity I’d used to be able to summon, at least to form a mask, was nowhere to be found.
My future… It wasn’t bleak or mysterious—it would go on much as I had hoped and planned—and yet it felt so empty without my parents beside me. So much that was yet to come they would never witness, and knowing that broke my soul.
Also, I couldn’t deny the simmering anger in my gut at my father. He had known. He had known for years when his end was to come, and he’d never said a single word to me. He’d let me leave his side when he’d known he wouldn’t be there when I returned. And yet if he had told me, would Wyn and I be together now?
I clutched my mate closer and nuzzled his neck. It wasn’t possible for me to say I would trade my parents’ last moments on this plane of existence for Wyn, but it was equally impossible to think of giving up Wyn to experience those moments. The past couldn’t be changed or unwritten, as much as I might wish to think on it. I hadn’t been there when they left; I couldn’t ever change that. But I was here right now, with Wyn, and for that, I was grateful.
Wyn dragged his finger tips, claws scraping, over my arm as he stared at the stars around us. It didn’t seem to be a deliberate move, more as if he was touching me without thought as we stared at the endless light from the distant stars. I couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on my lips. At the beginning of this journey, Wyn had fled from me basically whenever I looked athim, and now, he was so used to touching me and being with me he did it without thought.
The happiness I felt with my mate twisted in my gut like a hot coal. How could I be happy when my parents had just died? Any good emotion felt like a betrayal to their memory, and yet I couldn’t exist in a perpetual state of mourning. It wasn’t possible. But not to mourn them, not to feel this all-consuming grief, made me feel as if I was forgetting them or putting them away in storage.
“Star,” Wyn said, his voice breaking the panic in my mind. “You need not hold me so tight. I won’t leave.”
In an instant, I realized I was basically strangling Wyn. “My apologies, Mate.”
He lifted my hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss to my palm. “None are needed.”
The soft touch sent tears to the backs of my eyes. I wanted to scoff, but my throat was clogged with emotion. Everything felt so much stronger than it had only days ago, as if I was hyper aware of every sensation. My emotions swung on a pendulum, changing so fast I couldn’t say what I was exactly experiencing. I hated it.
“This may be unfair to ask,” he started, hesitation lacing his every word, “but are you well?”
The burn in the backs of my eyes turned into an inferno. I forced out, “No.”
“Is there any way I might be able to help?”
“Be with me.”
Wyn gave the smallest chuckle. “I will be nowhere else but beside you.”
When I didn’t—couldn’t— respond, he turned in my embrace, going on his knees, and faced me. His fingers played with the long strands of my hair, and I closed my eyes, leaning toward him until my forehead rested against his.
“Oh, my Monqilcolnen,” he whispered, his breath rushing over my lips. “I wish to help, but I don’t know how. I have never experienced grief as you are now. My life hasn’t been one to foster that kind of love, and while I cared deeply about your parents, my grief cannot measure up to yours. So I don’t know what to do. I feel helpless right now.”
“Wyn—”
“Not that you should be trying to comfort me,” he interrupted me. “That isn’t fair to you or something I expect. But if there is something that would make you feel better, please tell me. I want to do whatever I can to make you feel better.”
“Nothing can take this pain away.”
