Page 73 of A Legacy of the Light

“She wouldn’t,” I agree, my smile dropping quickly. “But she only lives in my memories and I’m scared that if I move on, I’ll forget. I’ll forget how she smells, the sound of her laugh, and how her hugs felt. I’m scared I’ll forget all the moments we had together. By moving on, I feel like she’ll disappear forever.” The last part of my sentence comes out in a sob that has Tavish stepping forward and pulling me into a bear hug.

I hesitate for a second before wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face into his chest, letting the tears flow freely.

“Shh,” he says, rubbing a hand up and down my back. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

We stay like that, Tavish rubbing soothing circles up and down my back, and me soaking his shirt.

Eventually, the ebb of my tears slows, and the feel of Tavish’s body against mine slowly filters into my consciousness. His deep scent wraps itself around me as much as his hold. His strong arms feel like cotton-wrapped steel and his chest is warm and comforting.

Tavish is built for strength and power. But right now, he’s my friend, not a prince or a Seelie. He’s just a guy who gets what I’m going through.

And I didn’t realize how much I needed this, to be seen and understood on this level, until he stepped forward to comfort me.

I take a steadying breath and pull away, wiping the remaining tears from under my eyes. So different from the ones I was wiping away in Cait’s shop earlier today.

“I’m sorry, I made a mess of your shirt,” I sniffle and lift my head, the breeze feeling cold on my cheek where it had been resting on his chest.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tavish keeps one hand resting on the small of my back and uses the other to tilt my chin to look up at him.

“You’re not going to forget her if you move on. She lives on through you. Holding onto how she died and that negativity will mean you might lose some of those happier memories. Remember her for who she was and your relationship with her rather than how she died. I told you I don’t remember my mother much now. That’s in part because of how long I held onto how she died. I would give anything to remember the warmth of her arms or the sound of her voice.”

His vulnerability stuns me silent.

“Do you hear me?” he asks, squeezing my chin gently.

My eyes line with tears again and I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Yes, I understand. I’ll try.”

Seemingly satisfied with my answer, Tavish releases my chin, and rubs his hand down my arm before going back to leaning on the ledge. The light from the moon casts a silvery glow in his hair, and he drops his head and sighs.

“How did speaking with the families go?” I ask, remembering that’s what he was doing today and feeling terrible for crying on him like that when he’s had such a difficult day.

“As you might expect. Lots of upset Seelie to deal with. It comes with the job.” He doesn’t lift his head and he tries to pass it off, but I can see how much it weighs on him.

A lock of hair falls to his forehead and I have to fight the urge to push it back and offer him the same comfort he just gave me.

“You can talk to me as well, you know. I might not be able to sympathize, but I can listen.”

His lips lift at one side and he tilts his head toward me, capturing me in his hazel eyes.

“It never gets easier, telling a family that their son or daughter won’t be coming home. It takes a toll. I like to come out here after a day like today. Almost like I’m distancing myself from the city and the people and the responsibilities I have.”

“If you weren’t a prince, what would you be?” I ask, wanting to know what he would do in this life if he had another choice.

“No one has ever asked me that before,” he replies softly and takes a minute to consider. “Given how I wield, I’d likely end up in some form of guard service. Or I’d travel the world as a mercenary or something.”

“In all those options you fight. What if you didn’t have to?”

“A nice idea, but that’s not the way this world is. There’s always some battle to fight. Whether physical or political. And my kind of power wouldn’t be allowed to remain on the sidelines.”

Tavish’s response fills me with sadness. My childhood was happy. Full of laughter, warmth and love. All he has ever known is this. A father who distanced himself after the death of his wife, and the expectations of a crown.

I squeeze his arm.

He pats my hand. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Elsie. Despite what I’ve had to do today, I like my life. Despite the responsibilities, I like being a prince.”

Silence falls again and I don’t take my hand back. Tavish gazes out at his city. I stare at him and consider all that he must have seen and been through. I admire him for it, for how he has remained kind and compassionate.

“You’re a good guy, Tavish,” I tell him.