Chapter 33 #2
Reeling, I shake my head, and my brows furrow. “Of course. I knew all of this would come, I just didn’t want to think about it yet. Would you mind if we started tomorrow? Of course, you are the one I trust above everyone else, and there is no question that I choose you, Edmond.”
“Yes, well,” he says with a small nod. “I would be remiss if I said I did not know you would choose me, but I am afraid, Your Majesty, I have to decline and offer my formal resignation from duties for the kingdom.”
My jaw falls open, and I gape silently at him.
Resign? How could Edmond resign? In the time I need him the most, the time I need my tutor, my advisor, the man who shaped me into the future ruler, he’s leaving? Weston’s hand tenses on my thigh, but he says nothing.
“I don’t understand,” I say, shaking my head slightly. “Did I do something? Did something happen before we came back?”
“Nothing you did could have affected my decision, Your Majesty. However, something did in fact happen.”
Edmond reaches beneath his coat, the same way he did when he pulled out my mother’s diary, but instead, my breath catches in my throat when I see what he’s holding.
Weston jumps to his feet and we both stare at the lump of familiar fabric, this time not dangling and empty, but round and full, with a golden glow emanating from above the golden tassel that ties it closed.
“What are you doing with that?” Weston growls. “I’ve been searching for it, and you’ve had it this entire time?”
“I see your time away did not change your ferocity,” Edmond says.
I would laugh if I wasn’t in complete disbelief of what Edmond is holding, and can do nothing other than stare and wait for an explanation.
“You may compose yourself. I simply did not want it falling into the hands of someone who did not know what it meant, or—” Edmond’s voice trails off and his face softens as he looks at his son.
“Someone who did, but did not deserve to have that decision made for them without the proper knowledge.”
“Edmond, what are you saying?” I whisper, and fix my eyes on the pouch that brought us here mere days ago, the one that holds the power to give hope or take it away. The one the Castaways had been searching to fill for years.
Edmond smiles at me softly, as if he knows I’ve figured it out.
I need to hear the words, the truth. Weston needs to hear it.
“I cannot continue with my duties in Blackwood, because I have new responsibilities and duties, for Dawnlin. As the Guardian.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I can’t hold back the gasp this time. Weston’s arms lift, his hands settling on the back of his head as his fingers grip his hair. The look of shock and disbelief quickly overtakes his expression.
“What do you mean, as the Guardian?” Weston barks.
“Let me explain—”
“How do you know what that is?” he says. “How did you even know he had it to take it?” Weston gestures to the pouch still in Edmond’s hands.
“My boy,” he says gently, “I know far more than I have ever been able to tell you.”
Been able to tell you.
That can only mean one thing.
“Edmond…you’ve been to Dawnlin?” I ask breathlessly.
“What?” Weston snaps, his head whipping back and forth between us. “When? I would have known. How did you keep it from me?”
“Please, son, sit. I will tell you everything you wish to know, now that I can.”
Weston lets out a sigh as he drops heavily down beside me.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his bent knees and holding his head in his hands.
Reaching out, I graze my fingernails across his low back, reminding him with the touch that he craves that he’s not alone in all of this.
With as shocking as it is for me to learn that Edmond only told me about Dawnlin because he had been there, I can imagine it is worse for him.
Once Edmond determines we have settled, he starts.
“I am now the Guardian of Dawnlin. The magic of the island that lies within this dust will bring me back to it, and I will be ready and waiting for the next call.”
“But how?” I ask, unable to hide the disbelief in my voice. “You didn’t kill Dane. My father did, and ultimately Dane was responsible for his death. How then are you the Guardian?”
“It is interesting that on an island that helps bring about life, you believe that death creates its protector.” Edmond looks blankly at me, the same way he did growing up when he was trying to get me to think about something.
I blink at him, keeping my mouth sealed shut, hoping he will continue explaining, and am relieved when he does.
“The magic of Dawnlin does not lie with the person who is granted the title of Guardian. It lies with the magic inside this pouch. Once there was no longer a Guardian of Dawnlin, the moment I obtained the vessel that holds the magic, I became the new Guardian.”
My jaw slackens as his words hit me. All this time, the Castaways thought the Guardian was created by the death of the previous one. How could they not? Sig and Weston had no other knowledge of this place, only what they saw happen before their eyes. But they were wrong.
“It was with the dust all along?” I ask. “It wasn’t because Dane killed the previous Guardian?”
Edmond shakes his head. “No, Your Majesty. It was because he was the first to procure the dust.”
Weston’s face falls into his hands, and his frustrated growl echoes through the room. “This entire time, I could have fucking killed him, and it wouldn’t have meant anything. We could have rid the island of him, and it would have been done.”
“But you know you would have grabbed the pouch first,” I say as my hand flattens on his back. “You wouldn’t have let anyone else take it.”
He turns his head slightly and shoots me a look, which I return.
“You know I’m right.”
Shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh, he looks forward again, his hands still wringing through his hair.
“Which,” Edmond interjects, “is why I could not allow that to happen.”
Both our heads snap toward him, only to find a satisfied smile.
Weston drops his hands as his back straightens. “You did it so I wouldn’t become the Guardian?”
“I did it because I thought neither of you should become the Guardian. But, I could not let my son, who has already sacrificed so much, lose his chance at a normal life and happiness. I did not want that decision taken away from you without your knowledge, especially after the last twenty or so years.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow down the lump.
Edmond wasn’t there. He didn’t see the way Weston gave himself to his crew, and sacrificed everything he wanted to keep them all safe, but he knows that the man who left his kingdom to help his best friend have happiness once again deserves his turn to have the same.
“How do you know this, Pop?” Weston implores. “How did I never know you went to Dawnlin?”
“You were very young when I left, and I was not gone for long.” Edmond’s face falls slightly, but he tries to hide it with a soft smile. “I returned just after your mother died.”
Weston’s mouth falls open and his eyes widen in realization. The nightmares, the ones he told me about where he relives the night his mother died.
Please don’t leave.
He was begging his father to stay, begging Edmond to stay, because he was leaving to call the Guardian. He was trying to find the healing waters to save her life, but he was too late.
And he could never speak of it.
“You got them,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “You were worthy.”
Edmond nods solemnly. “I was, but by the time I returned, my love was already gone. I never got to say goodbye, nor could I ever utter a word as to where I was or why.”
Weston’s jaw ticks at his father’s recollection of that night, which is so different from the one the once young boy remembers.
“You still haven’t explained how you know all of this.
There’s nothing written anywhere on that island.
We checked everywhere, and everything written in this kingdom is too vague. ”
“Neither of you will be surprised to hear that I simply talked to the man. Though I was pressed for time, I still needed to know as much as I could about the magic I was about to trust, and Horace agreed.”
“Horace?” I ask. “Who is Horace?”
“The Guardian before, I am assuming the same one who brought you.” He nods to Weston.
“He did not hold back, of course, knowing I could not speak of the magic once I returned to our world. He seemed very obliged to talk about it with someone. It makes sense that most who seek out Dawnlin are singularly focused. He was very kind and educational.”
“So you knew that the dust decides the next Guardian,” Weston says. “But you also knew how to replenish it.”
“I did.”
“Light always finds a way,” I say, and Edmond’s smile widens.
“I am delighted to see my lesson stuck. It was a rather useful metaphor, for more than just providing you with the knowledge of how to get home.”
“But how did you know we would need to know that?” Weston asks. “How did you know the dust would run out?”
“One can never be unprepared for all possibilities. Without being able to speak of Dawnlin more than telling the well-known myth, I had to ensure that in the event you could not return, time would give you the way home. I had to come to terms with the fact that I might not be able to see you if the worst did happen. And so it did. But as I said, it was a useful lesson in more than one way.”
“But we can talk about it now. Why? Why couldn’t I say its name when I tried days ago, but now, there’s nothing stopping us?” Weston asks.
“I assume it is because I am the Guardian, and you two already know about the island, have been there, and are not blind to the secrets. I would assume if someone who knows nothing of the island were to walk in, you would be bound to secrecy once more.”
“I have a question,” I ask, falling back so easily into my learned patterns with my tutor.
“Your Majesty, please.” Edmond bows his head slightly, urging me to continue.