It’s almost as if he doesn’t care, or rather, it isn’t necessary for him to know.
Which makes me wonder yet again if the story that Weston is out to get the healing waters for himself is just that.
A story.
I don’t know how I could ever confirm it, but once again I find myself doubting everything I knew since stepping foot on Dawnlin.
But now the bigger question that I can’t seem to shake is, if Weston is being honest, then why is Dane lying?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Silence between us stretches on for hours, the only sound the roaring of the waterfall and the chirping of wildlife after the heaviness of our conversation settled. When he said we’d be going somewhere today, I did not expect to have my world turned on its axis yet again, or to have an entirely different perspective on Weston.
I don’t completely; I can’t with only a few truths and the snap of fingers. A sinking feeling creeps over me, as I wonder if I blindly followed someone else’s beliefs without making my own judgments. I didn’t look at all the information and find the truth.
Edmond would be disappointed in me.
Yes, Weston took me and the rest of the Castaways captive after finding the waters, and he still won’t give me an adequate reason for that, but since then, he’s been nothing but be extremely protective of his people. He claims he is trying to find a way home, and seemed truly distressed when he found out that opportunity might be coming to an end.
Maybe he only wants to get home to the woman he came to save. But if that is the case, why didn’t he just go to Dane? And why did he kill the last Guardian?
The sliver of hope I keep clinging to is my trust in the island. If Dawnlin trusts Dane as the Guardian, why can’t I? I’ll admit, the island and I don’t see eye to eye on everything, namely not being worthy of the waters and keeping me trapped on the ship, but it seems to be all knowing, and I need to remember that.
My head hurts from all the questions cycling through it when Weston finally breaks the silence.
“I can hear you thinking, princess.”
“No, you can’t,” I say. I lean my hips back, bending forward and hanging off the railing to stretch out my spine. My muscles are tight everywhere with the intensity of the morning, and my entire body feels like one large knot. “What do you normally do to pass the time up here?”
“I don’t think I want to know the answer to that question.” He chuckles, and I remember he said Sig and Jorn were on duty the day he saved me.
I make a face and shake my head. “I didn’t need that mental picture, thanks.”
He laughs, a full, hearty laugh that feels like warm honey. My eyes snap to him and my jaw drops as I take in the smile lighting up his face. My stomach tumbles. I’ve only seen him laugh one other time, but it wasn’t with me, and I was seething with hatred at the time. Now, after our conversation this morning, I see it differently than before.
Only a little differently.
“What?” he asks, quirking his brow.
“Nothing,” I say, quickly looking away and straightening my body.
“How about we make a bet.”
“A bet?”
He’s caught my attention. What could Weston possibly want to bet, and why? Is it just a way to pass time, or is he serious about it?
“A bet, a wager, a game. Call it whatever you want.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask, eyeing him skeptically. Playful Weston is still uncharted territory, and I haven’t gotten used to it yet. The idea of him proposing a game now makes me a little wary.
“If I win, I get a truth, no questions asked, whenever I call for it. But if you win, you can have your weapons back.”
I all but stand at attention with the wager.
My dagger.
He’s offering to return it to me; no more allowing me to have it whenever he deems it necessary. He’s showing he trusts me, at least enough not to slit his throat in his sleep.
