Page 94 of Where Broken Wings Fly

____________________

One simple, hardly spoken word from Raegan was all that was needed to clear the entire throne room of spectators. Pixies flooded from that place as if it had been set on fire, and I remained amongst Raegan’s friends, not completely convinced I should have.

There was nothing to say. Nothing to do. Any attempt at either from any of us was immediately shut down by the Prince, his eyes unblinking and glossy as he stared at his father. Even if he had allowed us to speak or comfort him in some sort of way, there was no telling what, exactly, we were supposed to do. I hadn’t truly figured out how Raegan even felt about his father. Considering he murdered his mother and stole him away to a place that suffocated him day-in and day-out, it was hard to imagine that he held any care in his heart for King Ronan. Then again, he was his father, and they had spent the better part of a century together.

There was also the problem that he was Raegan.

When he finally spoke, it shattered the tension in the air and all four of us gasped for full lungs.

“Killian, fetch the Druid.”

Killian disappeared, shooting out of the throne room with a sense of relief to be gone that I desired. I thought about going with him, especially because I couldn’t tell if Raegan wanted me there amongst it all. But with the type of mood he had suddenly tumbled into, I assumed if he wanted me gone he would have made it so.

“Shea, get some more ceadan and post outside of this door. Not a single soul comes in here, got it?”

She was gone just as quickly.

Niamh and I just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating the awkwardness that echoed through the room as loud as a war drum.

“Niamh, fetch the head of castle staff. What’s her name again?”

“Fionnuala?” she squeaked.

“Yes. Go now.”

She shot me an apologetic look before fleeing, likely before Raegan could change his mind.

“Olivia —”

Please please please please—

“— come here, please.”

I wanted to grunt, but held it back with all of my might. Instead, I crept forward, one toe flexing at a time in case Raegan’s plans for my approach was to use me as some sort of punching bag. When I paused across from him, his very deceased father between us, I prepared myself for whatever was about to come my way.

But I wasn’t anywhere near prepared. Not when he looked up and all I saw was agony. He looked like nothing more than a young boy, distraught and confused and broken beyond repair with every blink of his darkening eyes.

It brought me down to my knees, where I rested my weight and watched him carefully, trying my best not to look down at the King between us.

“You must think me a fool.”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. There was nothing to say. So I shut it again.

“I should not mourn him, right?”

His voice. Oh, his voice. It wasn’t Raegan, not really. It was some younger version of him, some piece that never quite recovered from what had happened to his family, to what had been forced upon him. The Prince of not one kingdom but two, yet desired neither.

“Why not?” I finally asked, my own voice foreign to my ears.

“He was a phenomenal king. Truly, he was born to it. Meant for it. There was never any question about that.”

I stared at Raegan as he looked down at his father. Whatever was happening in Raegan’s mind, I would let it play out. Maybe that was why he called me forward, just so that there were a pair of ears that could listen to it.

“He was an okay father, too.” Raegan paused only to push some of his hair behind his ears, the very thing that suggested otherwise. “I think he tried his best.”

The only thing I had in my tool-belt of helpfulness was experience. I had not lost a parent or a sibling, but I had lost the next best thing – a best friend. So I said what I wished everyone had said to me.

“You’re allowed to feel all of it, Raegan.”