Stone Heart by Garrett Robinson

Author:Garrett Robinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Legacy Books

I MANAGED TO KEEP MY expression impassive as we made our way out of the stronghold and into the city streets. But I could not keep my grip on the emptiness inside of me forever. Once we were out of sight of my family’s home, hot tears slid from me, and my arm began to shake under Dryleaf’s hand.

“There now,” said Dryleaf gently. “We will be back soon.”

Mag looked over her shoulder at his words, and when she saw my face, she came to me at once. “Here,” she said softly. “I will take him.”

She gently lifted Dryleaf’s hand from my arm and placed it on her own. I cast my hood down lower and wept, trying to stay silent at first, but in the end I let myself feel the grief that had been building up in me since I first saw Ditra on my mother’s chair. When we reached the inn at last, Oku came bounding up, but he seemed to sense my mood and did not bark at us. Once we reached our room, I sat on the edge of the bed and cast my face into my hands. Mag helped Dryleaf to a chair in the corner, shrugged off her shirt of scale mail, and then came to sit by me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pulling my head to her chest. Dryleaf bowed his head, and the two of them sat in silence while I poured my woe into Mag’s tunic. She did not speak a word, but only held me tighter, occasionally patting my hair. Oku curled up at my feet, his head resting on my boot.

It did not take all that long, considering. I had mourned the loss of my mother long ago—though because she had not been truly gone, there was always at least some hope that we might reconcile our differences. What I mourned in that moment was the loss of that hope. The knowledge was heavy upon me that it was over now, and things would never be right between us.

And, too, I wept for the sight of my sister. My sweet, loving sister, the only one who had comforted me when the world had not cared, now sitting in our mother’s chair, and every bit as hard as she had ever been.

But at last my tears subsided. I scrubbed the last of them away on my sleeve, shaking my head and trying to bring myself back to the moment.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “Thank you both.”

“You have nothing to thank us for, dear boy,” said Dryleaf. “You have had a hard day.”

“We do not have to talk now,” said Mag. “If you need time—”

“I do not,” I said. “I would rather get to work. It will keep my mind from matters of grief.”

“As you say,” said Dryleaf carefully.

“Do you think my idea unwise?” I said, trying not to sound irritated.

“I think that open wounds need time to close, or they may become aggravated,” he said. “And that goes for others as well.

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