Page 30 of A Legacy of the Light

“Are you close with your family?” Tavish asks me softly.

“Yeah, I am. Mom and I lived with her parents while I was growing up so it was just the four of us. When I left for college it was strange to not be with my family everyday.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to anyone new about this. I met Rach in college. She was my roommate, and she asked me lots of questions about my family, but was always vague in her responses about hers, and she would change the subject very quickly. I know she has a twin brother that she doesn’t speak to and her father died before she was born. I saw an old photograph of her brother once, they have the same eye color.

“What about your father?” Tavish’s question is tentative, as if he’s worried about prying too far.

Talking about him is easy, though. “Ah, the sperm donor.”

Tavish chuckles, quirking an eyebrow.

“He wasn’t around. He left pretty much as soon as he found out my Mom was pregnant with me. I think he didn’t come around again because he knew he’d be torn to shreds if he dared show his face after the way he left.”

“Your grandfather is protective of you then?” he replies, assuming the only male in the family would be our protector.

“Oh no, my Granny. She was a fierce thing. No one messed with her!” I laugh quietly, thinking about them together. My Grandpa is soft, warm, and affectionate. And Granny? A force to be reckoned with.

I can feel Tavish’s gaze on me while I reminisce about the rants Granny would go on whenever I asked about my dad. “Waste of good air!” she’d say before plucking weeds from her garden with more force than necessary.

Tavish continues to quietly stare at me.

“What?” I ask him. “There something on my face?” I grab the white napkin and wipe my chin just to be sure.

Tavish smiles and shakes his head. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile talking about your family.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been hard to talk about them recently,” I whisper. His observation has thrown me. Tavish barely knows me, yet he seems so attuned to how I feel.

“I get that. It was hard for me to talk about my mother for a long time. I still don’t really talk about her now,” he replies.

I place a tentative hand on his forearm and he looks up at me, a painfully familiar sadness lining his hazel eyes. The morning sun gilds his hair a rich brown and casts half of his strong face in a darker shadow.

“You can talk to me, Tavish. I understand better than most.”

The corner of his mouth tips up as his gaze holds mine, and an electric spark runs between us that continues to twist and pull the longer our eyes are locked. I clear my throat and pull my hand back, then take a sip of my coffee, the usual heaviness of grief settling over me. This is why I don’t talk about them. The wound in my chest is too much.

I see that same heaviness on Tavish, too. Maybe that’s what makes me feel so comfortable around him. I’ve felt less guarded around him than I have anyone in a long time, other than Rach.

We finish our meal and sit watching the clouds pass in front of the winter sun, casting shadows across the deep blue of the lake.

“So,” I begin, breaking the silence and sadness between us, “what can I expect from going into the city today? Will it be like cities in my realm?”

Tavish ponders a moment. “Somewhat. It will be busy, and you’ll find similar shops, cafes, bars, restaurants, that kind of thing. But there aren’t any cars or technology, and it’s much cleaner.”

“Sounds like a dream,” I reply.

“Huh, yeah. It might be a shock to you, but you seem to have taken everything in your stride so far. I’m impressed.”

I try not to blush at the fact a prince just told me he’s impressed by me. I shrug nonchalantly.

“So, umm, how do I pay for stuff?” I twiddle my thumbs in my lap not wanting to look at him while I basically ask how to spend his money.

“Hey,” he says, voice turning serious, prompting me to look back up at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t be awkward with me. I offered to make sure you have everything you need, so please don’t feel that way. Reyne has access to the accounts, so she’ll sort it all. You get what you need and don’t worry about anything else.” His voice is gentle yet commanding, raising my heart rate a little.

“Tavish, I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t understand why you’re being so kind and generous.” His demand for me not to be awkward compels me to be honest with him.

“Because I can, and because you’re not the only one who doesn’t have many friends. I’d like us to be friends, Elsie.” The vulnerability to his confession pulls on my heart strings.

“We can be friends, but you don’t need to buy me things for that to happen,” I reply.