The Present
Chapter 51 – Levana
“Idon’t understand?” I stared at Sinclair senior, my mind in a chaotic whirl after listening to the story he’d just shared. Every nerve in me quivered with the knowledge that I’d lose Saint. Fists balled, I shot up from my seat. “I don’t believe a word of that...that...” I spluttered, pointing to the journal lying open on the last page. “That’s a load of crap. Made up by your family to do—God, I don’t know what,” I yelled the last part, shaking my head, my eyes filling with tears. “It was just a story,” I whispered, half-believing my own words. “There’s no way it can come true. Things like that don’t happen in real life,” I sobbed, swiping at the snot I felt dripping down my nose.
Closing the book, the old man slid it back into his satchel and stood with a soft sigh. “Thank you for listening, child and as much as I’d love to agree with you, I can’t. It might seem like a tragic tale of unrequited love but trust me, it isn’t. My family has suffered for years. The eldest son only lives to the age of thirty-five. In that final year, his death comes unplanned. We never know what the cause would be.” He looked over to Saint, his expression filled with remorse. “I would give anything to take his place.” His eyes came back to me. “I would give my life if my son could live until his old and gray and got to experience life as I did.”
“You were not the eldest son in your generation?” I mumbled, my tears reduced to sobbing hiccups.
Slowly, he shook his head. “I lost my eldest brother to a car accident and as the second, I assumed the role as head of the family.”
“The king?”
His chuckle lacked mirth. “The king if you must. But I love my son deeply, child and I would never dictate who he can love, if he were able to.” He caressed my cheek, wiping away my tears. “You were perfect for him.”
“Not perfect enough to break the curse, am I,” the words left my mouth in bitter disgust, angry with King Winthrop. He was responsible for the curse, not Prince Sebastian. I looked at Saint and my chest tightened, constricting the breath until I inhaled sharply.
The older man tsked. “I asked Saint why he let you go the night of the ritual....” He trailed off until I shifted my gaze to him, my expression expectant. “You impacted him since that first meeting, and he had no idea why. It was the first it had happened to him. I believe you caught him off guard and continued to baffle him.”
My cheeks coloured wondering how much the old man knew of my history with his son. “But I’m not a direct descendant of Snow, why would I have any impact on him? And if he was cursed against feeling any emotion, how did I influence him?”
“Unfortunately, those are mysteries we’ll never solve,” he replied, shoving a sense of finality in my face. Yet, his tone filled with a sadness I felt crushing in on my heart.
I clenched my fingers to prevent running to Saint’s side and shaking life into him. “I guess not,” I sighed as the old man walked over to the window and stared out. He was a tall elegant man, worthy of royalty and I knew that if Saint lived, he’d be the perfect heir, proudly continuing his father’s legacy. Then something clicked. “Mr Sinclair?” It was weird calling him that. When he glanced at me over his shoulder, I asked, “do you know why he calls me Snow?” Now that I knew who she was, I didn’t understand the connection.
Slowly, he turned, shaking his head. “Only he can answer that.”
“Seriously,” I snapped before remembering who I was addressing. “I’m sorry.” Embarrassed, I dropped my gaze to the floor.
“Don’t be, child. I understand your frustration. Only, given my family’s history, I’m able to handle this debacle with a little more tolerance than I care to show at times, lest people think me an unemotional twit.” His smile was meant to calm me, and it did.
I returned the smile, even though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Don’t you find it strange that even though Saint doesn’t know the story behind the curse, he called me by her name?”
“I do,” he gave a resigned sigh.
My eyes on the old man, the tears came harder, and he neared me, but then I turned away to look at his son, lying there helpless with no one willing to save him because they couldn’t—all due to some stupid curse.
