Shadows in the Trees: Book 1

Chapter 60

His hands hadn't stopped shaking. 

The guards had seized his mother and forced her back to camp, following his father. She was catatonic by the time they got there. 

He wasn't sure how he had gotten back to camp. He didn't remember making the decision to follow his father, but here he was, back in his tent. Staring at his hands. 

He thought of Julian's pleas just before he fell. The whites of his eyes had been so bright against his skin. He had called for him, his little brother, begging him to do something. 

Why hadn't he done something? 

A draft raised goosebumps on his skin as someone entered his tent. His father's heavy footsteps filled the air, rattling his bones like claps of thunder. When he didn't move, his father knelt in front of him. 

"Damon," he said. He had never heard his father speak so softly. 

He met his father's eyes. They were bloodshot and wet, like he had been crying. Damon wondered if he cried for himself and the respect and trust he had lost or the son he murdered. 

His father waited for him to say something. To do something. Scream, cry, laugh, anything. But Damon did nothing. The silence widened between them, but Damon didn't know what to fill it with. None of his books, none of his chess games or his lessons had prepared him for this moment.

"I didn't want to kill Julian," his father said, shattering the silence. His voice broke on his dead son's name. "He left me no choice." 

"No choice," Damon repeated numbly. 

"He would have destroyed everything your mother and I built!" he said."There would have been nothing left to give you. Nothing for you to build upon. Elohine would have crumbled under his hand, and he was too damned stubborn to give up."

Tears rolled down Damon's face. His eyes were fixed on his hands, which were clenching his knees. His knuckles were nearly white. He should've felt pain, the way he was squeezing his legs, but he felt nothing. All he could think about was how wide Julian's eyes had been, how white and searching they were as he fell.

"You don't have to feel guilty for this," Wilhelm pleaded. "I take full responsibility for this. I raised Julian to be entitled. I let him carry on with his debauchery. And he gets his stubbornness from me. I just -- I couldn't say no to him, after Cordelia -- your mother -- " he cleared his throat. "I can't go back and fix my mistakes, my boy. All I can do is protect the future your mother and I have built for you. Julian -- as much as I loved him -- threatened that future." He shook his head. "If only you had been the elder son. None of this would have come to pass." He sighed. "I am truly sorry, Damon." 

He tried to reach out to touch him, to take his hand, but Damon flinched. Tears welled in his father's eyes. 

"Damon . . . I --"

"Are you going to kill me, too, if I stand in the way of your future?" Damon asked, meeting his father's eyes once more. 

"No," his father said. The tears broke free from his father's eyes and stained his cheeks. "No, my son. You are the future of Elohine. Everything I did, I did it for you." He reached out again, and this time Damon let him take his hand. "Do you understand?" 

In that moment, Damon made a decision. 

"I understand, Father." 

Wilhelm smiled sadly. "Good. I knew I could count on you, my boy." 

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He waited for nightfall to go see his mother. He nodded silently to the guards as he passed, fighting to hold himself together. 

The tent was dark and reeked of incense. His mother was laid out peacefully on her chaise, her curls combed and her hands folded over her chest. It reminded him of her death, when the physician had folded her hands over her chest and pulled her sheet over her pale face. 

She was so still. If it weren't for the rise and fall of her chest, he would fear the worst. 

He brushed a hand across her forehead and touched her soft curls. "Father gave you quite a bit of valerian root, hm?" Her brow furrowed and she moaned in her sleep. "Shh." 

He watched her sleep for a moment, trying to memorize her face. He never wanted to forget it again. He wondered what she would think when she woke up to find him gone. 

He tucked the letter he had written her in her hands. She was the only one he felt he owed an explanation to. It just seemed so cruel to him -- he just got her back, and now he was leaving her. Leaving her to grieve alone, to deal with the fallout alone. 

"I hope you understand," he whispered. His throat tightened, but his eyes remained dry. "I love you, Mother." 

She smiled softly in her sleep. Tears threatened to fall, but he blinked them away. He kissed his mother's forehead before he left, walking away quickly, before he could change his mind. 

After passing the guards, he walked a ways before doubling back to his mother's tent. In their new camp, his mother's tent was on the edge of the settlement, removed from everyone else. His father couldn't afford to show weakness to his allies. 

He moved from shadow to shadow until he reached the bag he had packed and tucked in the folds of the back of his mother's tent. He slung it over his shoulder, refusing to look back as he left his life behind. 

In that moment, Damon had made a decision. He prayed he wouldn't live to regret it.