Defy the Sun (Beware the Night #2) - Jessika Fleck Page 0,86
I meant.
Or maybe I did mean what he heard.
I sit up on my knees. “You won’t lose me.”
Again, he focuses on the floor.
I take his hands in mine, and swiftly he jerks his away.
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say, my throat closing around the words. “This wasn’t my plan … You have to know that.”
Dorian sniffs. Shakes his head no and then swipes his eyes with an angry fist.
But when he looks down at me, absent pretense or any act he might be putting on, just raw, true Dorian, it nearly breaks me.
Until he narrows his eyes and asks, “Why am I not enough for you?”
Which fully breaks me.
“I … You are enough.”
He sort of laughs under his breath. “Clearly not.”
“It doesn’t have to do with being enough or not enough. You mean so much to me, Dorian. I truly care for you.” I soften my eyes, try to stare at him gently because I know this is going to hurt. “And I love you … It’s just…” But my eyes deceive me by veering toward the floor. I can’t.
“Tell me, Veda.” He lightly places his fingers to my chin, and I can’t deny meeting his eyes. Dorian’s stare hardens. “I need to hear you say it.”
Through hot tears I force the words I’ve always known but have avoided saying. “I’m in love with Nico.”
Dorian refuses to look at me.
He stands and then walks to the door.
But he stops before he leaves.
“Nothing I can say will change your mind?” he says, his voice low.
“About going to the palace or about loving Nico?” I say to his back.
Dorian’s shoulders shudder. “Both.”
I breathe deep. “No.”
He leaves.
I’m so sorry …
CHAPTER 19
NICO
I find my mother in one of her favorite spots on our estate: the antique tearoom. She actually grows tea, dries it for drinking. Since it’s winter, her plants are perched cautiously near the windows to enjoy the rays of the Sun, but not close enough that they’ll frost. She might have abandoned the garden out back, but these plants are basically my siblings. She coddles them, coos over each one, when it gets too cold she even warms them with a special fire in the hearth.
Currently, she’s pruning the live plants while several lengths of leaves hang upside-down above the mantel to dry like the salted meat at the market. She doesn’t notice me at first, but the moment she glances up and sees me her eyes light up.
“My son!” she calls, getting up off her chair and wrapping her arms around me, not even bothering to remove her soiled gardening gloves. “I knew he’d get you here, but I didn’t expect you so soon.” Like she recalls the reason she summoned me here, my mother takes my hands, inspects me up and down. Her brow lines with worry. “Oh, Nico, the battle … Is everything all right? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine … Everything’s fine…” But my stupid voice hitches on the tiniest claw of emotion.
She eyes me in that way that shows she knows I’m full of shit. That I’m lying through my teeth. I hate that she’s able to see through me so easily. There’s only one other who has this ability: Veda. Not only can she see through my lies, there are times she sees too much.
“Nico—” I snap back into the present. My mother is staring, waiting for me to confide in her.
“Well, I didn’t want to jump right into it. I enjoy our visits … But yes, I do have something to share with you. Is Father here today?”
Her first response is, “He’s upstairs.” Her second, “Are you in trouble?”
“I don’t think so…”
To this, she grabs my hand, pulls me around the worktable and down so we’re crouched on the carpet before the fire. “You don’t think so?” She hisses, then throws off her gloves and pushes her hair off her shoulders and behind her ears. “How can you not know?”
“Mother, please listen.” She nods, finally stays quiet, her eyes wide and set on me. “When I was last here, you tried to tell me something, but Father walked in, do you remember?”
“Yes.”
“What were you going to tell me?”
She glances around the table, then back again. Gives a piercingly strong, deep stare. “You have to stop this war. As heir, you must find a way. I fear if it doesn’t end soon this island will burn.” Tears well in her eyes but don’t fall. “It’s all wrong. Nothing good can come of it.”