Page 79 of Crimson Kingdom
Mac had grown up in this castle. He was like a son to my parents, who had been close with his father since the war. He was present for every meal. Every festival. Every family trip. Every good day, and all of the bad ones, too.
Lines of sorrow were etched into Mamá’s elegant features. She had lost two boys now. Had lost a daughter to grief. And had thought she lost another to bad decisions and a cave-in.
I swallowed hard, trying not to think about the pain emanating from Davin, who had lost his best friend. Or MacKinnon himself, who sat still as a statue at the end of the table. He had raised Mac as his own son. Loved him as his own son.
And still, it was hard to imagine that anyone’s grief could rival Avani’s.
My eyes burned with unshed tears as I took my seat next to Evander.
Without a word, he passed me a plate already laden with all my favorite foods. The simple gesture nearly undid me.
“Thank you,” I breathed.
He nodded wordlessly, and several more minutes of silence ticked by.
“You know,” Davin began, his voice sounding too loud in the silent room. “If Mac were here...he would ask why we hadn’t set the good whiskey out with breakfast.”
I snorted on a reluctant laugh, my eyes landing on my baby sister.
“If Mac were here, he’d be doing his best imitation of Da’ being a baby hog.” I deepened my voice, using the thick Scottish brogue Mac had loved to tease my father with. “‘Ach. That’s no’ how ye soothe a bairn, ye wee idget.”
Everyone laughed, even MacKinnon letting out a sad chuckle.
“That’s the truth,” Isla said. “Though, he was no better. It’s a good thing there were two of the twins, or I’d have never gotten to hold them when he was around.”
Another chuckle went through the room, just as Avani walked back in the open doorway, my father at her heels. Her features were inscrutable, and I immediately tried to wipe the amusement off mine, afraid she would misread it.
Instead, the barest corner of her lips tilted up, though her eyes remained empty and raw.
“If Mac were here, he’d be making Da’ clear his throat uncomfortably while he planted a big ol’ inappropriate kiss right on my mouth for the whole room to see.”
“Aye, he would at tha’,” my father said, his voice rough with emotion. “He was a wee rascal, that one.”
“I wouldn’t go right to wee,” MacKinnon said. “The boy was taller than me before he reached twelve.”
“That’s when he started insisting on being called Mac,” Mamá chimed in, looking at MacKinnon. “He was so proud of the last name you gave him.”
The former rebel’s eyes filled with tears, but he smiled through them.
The mood was still somber, but it felt lighter, somehow. Or at least, bearable. For now.
When the meal was over, we made the trek from the dining room through the courtyard, then past the gardens to the royal mausoleum. With each step, a memory came back of a stolen moment in time with Mac.
Him teaching me to be scrappy when I wasn’t strong enough to hold a sword. Avani climbing into my bed to tell me about their first kiss. Him teaching us to fish at the lake house. The six of us sneaking out to his favorite tavern, learning to play Kings and Arselings and singing bawdy drinking songs.
Tears filled my eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at my lips until the final memory came. The day of the fire. The lingering smell of smoke in the air. The ashes on Avani’s tear-strewn face…
My vision blurred, and I tried to shake the memory away. I needed to be strong for Avani, not crumble under the weight of my own grief.
Which I was clearly doing, because even my weather senses had been off today. The puffy white clouds in the sky had only given me a moment’s warning before pelting our party with fat, depressing raindrops.
Resolving myself to do better, I lifted my chin and followed my family into the gleaming structure made of pristine white marble.
Avani’s arm was linked in MacKinnon’s, the man who was a second father to her, though I couldn’t be sure which of them was truly supporting the other.
A warm hand slid over mine, and my fingers gradually unclenched. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been squeezing Evander’s arm until that moment. I glanced up at him apologetically, and he gave a gentle shake of his head.
We came to a stop in front of the marble pillar that stood as a memorial for Mac. One by one, each member of our family said a few words about him, just as we had done for his funeral a year ago.