39
Luke
She was beautiful even in the last moments of her life. Her long, dark hair pooled around her too-pale face, sticking to her skin despite the light ocean breeze that came into her room through the open veranda doors. But even the silver light of the near-full moon failed to make her skin light up as it once had.
“Mother.” I stroked her cheek. “Mom,” I whispered softly.
She was a frail thing now. As her magic faded, it took parts of her with it—the perpetual youthfulness of her face, the sparkle of cunning in her obsidian eyes, her sharp smile. I was told that her condition had worsened more quickly than they had expected. Of course, I wouldn’t know myself because they failed to reach out to me until it was too late.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Mom?” I said, voicing the question that had run through my head since the moment I’d learned of my mother’s condition. She was fading. She was already near death.
“Because I knew that you’d think it was your responsibility to save me,” she said with what was left of her weak voice.
I clenched my jaw, biting back words too harsh for what may be my last to her.
“But what if I could have saved you? I have my powers back. Al… She… Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked again, stumbling over my desperate words.
“Luke.” My mother mouthed my name, her voice so soft this time that I had to read her lips.
“Yes?” I responded with clenched teeth.
“I see the way you look at that girl, Luke,” she whispered.
“Mom, please. We don’t need to talk about that right now.” The last time I’d seen my mother, at the Summer Gala, we’d had words over Al. But I’d already forgiven my mother for her too many years of meddling in my love life.
“You look at her like you’d give it all up for her, Luke. Like you’d choose her over your family or your Kingdom or even your own life if it came down to it. Luke, my sweet boy, don’t make yourself have to make that choice. Don’t let yourself love something so much that can be taken from you. Please, son, stay away from her. That kind of love will consume you.”
It already has. I’d imprinted on Al without knowing it, and the months that had passed where I was unable to touch her had been torture. The inability to connect with Al and the part of my magic that now lived inside of her had caused me physical pain, pain that I had gladly born when I thought it was Cass who would make her happy. But now, Al and I would be together.
I planned to tell Al about our magical connection and hoped that she would be happy about it and overlook the fact that I had failed to tell her sooner. This wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have with my mother on her deathbed, though.
“Gods dammit. Damn them for doing this to you and damn them for making this be our last conversation.”
I was surprised by my mother’s explanation behind why she was so against me being with Al. I thought all along it was simply that she had not picked Al for me, and, of course, she didn’t think Al had anything to contribute to our House. But it turned out that my mother’s concerns were a little deeper than that. They were still embedded in her overall concern for our House, but what she was really worried about was that if push came to shove, I would choose Al over the good of our House. Honestly, I didn’t know if she was right or wrong. I just could not process a hypothetical scenario like that right now.
I would not burden my mother’s deathbed with the truth about me and Al. That Al and I were going to give it a real go at last. Breaking up with Karina wouldn’t be particularly tough for me, and honestly, it probably wouldn’t be too tough for her, either. We liked each other well enough. But we did not pretend that we were in the position we were in for any reason other than the alliance of our Houses.
Our parents, on the other hand; they have fallen in love with the possibility of a union sealed by me and Karina. They would, without a doubt, take the breakup the worst. But there were ways other than marriage to forge an alliance between House Bellamy and House Dempsey. And I would do what it took to keep my promises to the King in order to forge that alliance.
“I love you, Mom,” I whispered, pressing my lips gently to her forehead.
“I’m proud of you, Luke. I always knew you would be the best one to lead this family,” she whispered before closing her eyes.
* * * *
“Son.”
My father approached me as I stared out at the choppy waves forming whitecaps in the dark ocean. It was an appropriately ugly, overcast gray day. My mother was gone from this world.
“Father,” I spat out through gritted teeth.
“Lucas, it’s what she wanted,” my father said, meekly trying to defend himself.
“Fuck that, Dad!” I exploded. “I could have saved her. I could have done something to stop or slow this!”
“You can’t reverse death, Luke. No one is that good. Not even you,” my father whispered.
The muscles in my jaw jumped at my effort to swallow the words in my throat.
“This is not your fault, Lucas. And neither was Jacob,” my father whispered much too quietly compared to his usual boisterous demeanor. “You can’t save the world, son,” he said, resigned.
“Don’t bring Jacob into this. And maybe I could have saved my mother. But now we’ll never know because you made that decision for me,” I replied, unable to bite back my words any longer.
“You’re right, son. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions for you because I thought I was doing what was best for you,” my father admitted.
I looked over at my father, my anger momentarily paused by his tone of contrition. “But I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore,” my father continued morosely.
“Do what?” I asked in a clipped tone.
“Be high lord of this House, Luke,” he said.
“What are you saying, dad?” I asked.
“It’s yours, son. You are high lord of the Silver Court for this House now,” he said, and with those words, my father’s usual regal demeanor seemed to diminish.
“This isn’t a decision to be made on a whim, Dad. Maybe right now isn’t the best time for you to make this decision,” I cautioned.
“I’ve been thinking about it for some time, son. It’s time. It’s past time,” he replied.
My mother had known this was what my father intended to do. She was probably the one who had orchestrated it all as she lay in her bed, fading into nothing.
I looked over at my brother, who stood in the corner with his shoulders sagging. He looked like he was staring out into the expanse of the dark ocean, but his eyes were glazed over, and it was evident that he was incapable of seeing anything except the thoughts he played through in his mind.
It almost hurt to look at him because he appeared so similar to my mother. He had her dark features. I realized with a pang that radiated through my entire body that the closest I would ever come to looking into my mother’s eyes again would be to look at Brad.
“What about Brad?” I asked. After all, Brad was the eldest.
“You know Brad is like me. He has no desire to play your High Court games,” my father said.
I grumbled at his continued description of the machinations behind running the Kingdom as “games.” That was one of the issues with my father serving as high lord. He just didn’t understand, and didn’t care to understand, what it took to run the Silver Court and the Kingdom. All he cared about was running the port and making money for the family. My father raised a hand, asking for me to hold on to the tirade he no doubt knew was coming.
“Brad just wants to run the port here and stay at home. Brad and I will support you as high lord in whatever you choose as best for this family,” he said.
“Why now?” I asked. I’d wanted this for so long. It had taken him years to make me acting high lord. Now, within a year, he was ready to hand it all over to me?
“I’ve led this House for hundreds of years, son. I’ve led us through war. I don’t want to do it again. And I think you’ll do it better. There are going to be some tough decisions ahead of you as high lord. You are responsible for the future of this family, this Court, and, ultimately, the Kingdom now.”
I knew being high lord wasn’t all fun and fairytales. I had already experienced that as acting high lord.
“Just promise me one thing. Promise me for your mother.” And when he mentioned her, the strength in his voice faltered in pain. The meekness my father wore felt unnatural and made me feel the cracks in my own strength. I needed this conversation to be over.
“Anything,” I promised him.