Page 29 of Bad Bunny
“I’m so sorry,” I say, the words coming out like a whisper because what do you say to something like that?
Without thinking, I reach across the console and rest my hand briefly on his forearm. It’s tense beneath my palm. Firm and warm.
Sorren stills at my touch. Hesitantly, he places his hand over mine. He squeezes my fingers lightly. An acknowledgment.
After a long second, I pull my hand back so I can turn onto the freeway.
Sorren exhales slowly, staring out the windshield.
Even though I'm no longer touching him, I’m still aware of the warmth of his hand over mine. The weight of it. The quiet strength in his grip.
His voice breaks the silence. “Grieve for him if you wish. As I do,” he says quietly. Then his jaw tightens. “But do not pity me.”
I glance over. His eyes are darker now. Narrowed.
“My uncle took my father,” he continues.
A beat.
“But he will not take my kingdom.” His hands tighten into fists. “That’s why I seek the weapons in the armory. Thornreaper. It’s the only thing strong enough to bring Rion to justice.”
The silence that follows is different this time.
Quieter.
More tense and also more fragile.
“I lost my dad too,” I add after a moment, then wince, wondering why I brought it up. It’s not the same. Not even close. But still, I have to say something. I can’t stand the way Sorren stares out the window, eyes dry but bloodshot, like he’s wrung himself out.
He turns his head, just slightly.
“Not to a magical coup or anything,” I say, huffing out a weak breath. “Heart attack. When I was in Colorado. Teaching.”
Another pause.
“I wasn’t there when it happened,” I admit. “Which I thought would make it easier, but it didn’t.”
“It was not easier to witness it,” Sorren says, and I feel stupid for bringing it up.
“Was your father kind?” he asks, surprising me.
“Yes, very.” I pass a car, then merge back into the fast lane. I’m eager to get to Annapolis, even if we can’t get to the egg yet. “How about yours?”
A faint smile passes over his face, more of a twitch of his lips than anything else. “My father was fair. He kept me by his side always and tried to pass his knowledge to me every day. He loved his kingdom.”
There’s something tucked into that sentence. I search for it. “Loved the kingdom more than you?”
“As he should.”
The answer is immediate. Automatic.
My chest aches for him. My father had always put me and my mom before everything else.
Sorren’s gaze drifts toward the horizon.
“There was a time,” he says slowly, “when I preferred the training yard to the council chamber.” His fingers flex absently, like they’re remembering. “The feel of a sword in my hand over the weight of a crown on my head.”
He exhales. “My uncle taught me that. How to fight.”
