Kingston
When Quinn had spoken his name, my body had wrenched in two. Torn between the need to help her, even though I couldn’t, and the need to go to him.
But I didn’t mistake the fear in her voice.
I went to him.
His father crouched over him, spitting venom into his ear. Spewing hatred I’d heard before, and I’d hoped to never hear again.
Do you have any idea what you’ve done?
You’ve become a problem for the wrong man.
I won’t see you disgrace our family again.
Haven’t you done enough? Wasn’t her death enough?
Line by line, he hurled his resentment at Landon.
Not hurt over losing his wife, but disdain. It stemmed from the stain her actions had left on the family name. Vitriol spewed over a reputation, at the cost of a relationship.
Landon had no love lost for his father. We had always been similar in that way.
It hadn’t shaped him the way it defined me.
Still, I hated it.
“You’re leaving with me, Landon. Do not make this difficult.”
His father demanded Landon’s compliance, and I didn’t have to ask why. Mine wanted him gone. Believed it best if he left Camelot Court for good.
He’d felt that way over a decade ago, too.
And just like he had back then, Landon fought his father.
He would not yield.
Neither would I.
But then his father pointed at the tree.
My footsteps faltered.
Landon’s face crumpled, his eyes screwing tight with pain and hands gripping his temples as a memory returned without warning.
I rushed over to them. “What are you doing? Unhand my right hand. Now.”
His father answered first to mine, but without his presence, he had to heed my order. He released Landon’s arm, and I crouched beside him.
“Landon? Are you alright?”
“This is none of your concern, Kingston. Your father has given me an order.”
I ignored him as I searched Landon’s face. He stared at the tree in shock, his gaze darting between me, the tree, and his father. Horror etched into every line of his expression, a tragedy written there so long ago finally coming to light.
“Let’s go, Landon. Let me get you out of here.”
I held out my hand, hoping he’d take it, but he didn’t move.
Whirling on his father, I didn’t temper the accusation in my tone. “What did you do? What did you say to him?”
“I told him the truth.”
His father straightened, pushing a hand through his dark, graying hair to tidy it. So similar to his son in image, and yet completely devoid of the virtue his son possessed.
“You dragged him into this mess all those years ago. And he was too weak to resist the pull. He made a traitor out of his mother, and even his pitiful begging couldn’t help him then.
” His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head as if I’d disappointed him.
“You stood there as we dragged him away, Kingston.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play the hero now, your highness.
” He straightened his tie and glanced in the direction where my father stood, waiting by the bell as each girl rang it to finish the course.
When he pinned me with his stare, it held triumph.
“There’s nothing for my son within these walls, or with you.
He’ll come with me before the night ends. ”
Without another word, Landon’s father walked over to mine. Right as Quinn rang the bell.
But Landon’s voice, quiet and broken, drew me back to him. “She’s buried there?”
“Yes.” My voice broke, too. “He wanted her there, as a reminder to me. And, if your memory ever returned, as a warning to you.”
“That’s why I’ve always hated it?”
“Landon, I’m so sorry.”
Eyes wide, he shook his head fiercely. He clutched his temples with both hands, gripping his hair and unraveling with the final piece of his memory.
“We killed her.”
“No,” I growled, stepping forward. “No, he killed her.”
“Because of us.” He lifted his head, dark amber eyes filled with anguish. “She died because she saw us together. Assumed—And you stood there, as I begged you to stop them. As I begged you to save her.”
“Landon, I—” I hung my head as he turned away from me. “I’m sorry. My father would’ve—”
“She died because I loved you.”
My heart cracked. Splintering over his use of the past tense.
It severed fully as his expression broke, with no trace of recognition for that love remaining within it.
“I can’t be near you right now.”
He stumbled backward, hastily putting distance between us and trying to get away.
“Please let me explain.” I stepped toward him, one hand outstretched as I reached for him.
Palm out without thinking.
He didn’t understand. He didn’t know what my father would’ve done if I’d intervened. If I’d shown a hint of what he meant to me.
I’d believed I had no choice.
I’d believed it was the only way to save him.
Ever since I’d been trapped by fear that when he remembered, I would lose him anyway.
Frozen by one mistake I could never take back, when he ran from me, I dropped my hand.
And I let him go.