Chapter 47

Raven

The phone in Castor’s hand was silent now, but according to Castor, it had been buzzing all morning. My heart skipped a beat as Neil snatched it from him. He flipped the phone open, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the screen.

“Multiple missed calls,” he muttered, turning the device so I could see. The number flashing on the screen was the same one I had dialed weeks ago—the same number that connected me to my father.

My breath hitched. “It’s him. It’s my dad.”

Neil’s lips pressed into a hard line. I wasn’t sure how my father’s calls had gotten through the spotty cell service out here, but it was clear that he had gotten through multiple times—perhaps he had attempted even more than that and they just hadn’t gotten through.

That thought made my heart pound. If my dad was calling this relentlessly, then that could only mean one thing: something was wrong. Very wrong. Did it have something to do with my business, I wondered?

Neil’s stormy blue gaze flickered to mine, searching, before he sighed. “If this thing keeps ringing, someone will find it. And they will start asking questions.”

I felt my breath hitch a little as Neil turned to me and held out the phone. “Are you saying…” I whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

He nodded. “One call.”

“Thank you,” I breathed, reaching for the phone. My fingers brushed his, trembling slightly as I took it from his hand. It wasn’t like my father to call relentlessly for no reason; we’d always had a comfortable relationship, the type of relationship where we could go months without speaking but still feel just as close when we did see each other.

So for him to call nonstop like this meant that something had to be wrong.

I hesitated, gripping the phone tightly. “I… I need to be alone for this,” I said.

His brows knitted together, but after a moment, he nodded. “Fine. I trust you.” He hesitated, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “But be safe. And come back quickly.”

“I will.” My voice cracked as I spoke, but I didn’t wait for him to say anything else. Spinning my horse around, I urged her into a gallop, the world blurring past me as I sped through the forest.

The hilltop wasn’t really as far as it once seemed all those weeks ago, but the ride felt endless. Every pound of my horse’s hooves against the earth seemed to echo the rapid pounding of my heart.

By the time I reached the high, rocky clearing, my breath was ragged, and my hands were clammy against the phone. Sliding off my horse, I stumbled toward the spot where I had called my dad before, lifting the screen to see if I could catch enough service for a stable call.

Finally, after stumbling around a little, three signal bars blinked at the top of the screen, faint but present. That would be good enough for a quick call.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button, my thumb trembling as I held the phone to my ear. The ringing seemed to stretch on forever, each pause between tones filling me with mounting dread.

Then, finally, came a voice.

“Hello?”

“Dad,” I choked out, relief washing over me just at the sound of his voice. “Dad, it’s me.”

“Raven?” His voice was rough, weak—so different from the strong, steady timbre I remembered. “Oh, thank the Goddess. I’ve been trying to call you, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, guilt flooding my chest. “I’ve been… busy. I told you I wouldn’t be looking at my phone much. I didn’t know you were trying to reach me.”

“It’s okay,” he said, but his words were slow and his voice sounded strangely labored. “I just… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Dad, what’s going on? You sound—” My voice caught in my throat, a sense of panic rising up inside of me. “You sound awful. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause, the line crackling faintly. Then he said it.

“I’m sick, Raven. Stage four liver cancer.”

The words hit me like a blow to the chest. “What?” I whispered, barely able to breathe. “No, that… that can’t be right. You’re not… You’re fine. You’ve always been fine.”

He let out a low, raspy chuckle.

“Not this time, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “The doctors say there’s nothing they can do. It’s too advanced.”

“But… how?” I whispered.

He sighed softly. A faint cough echoed through the phone, and I cringed just at the sound.

“I started feeling poorly,” he said wryly. “It was funny, really. I woke up one day feeling like I had a fever and a little back pain, nothing tragic.” He inhaled deeply, wheezing with the effort. “Next thing I knew, I was diagnosed with cancer.”

I couldn’t believe it. As long as I had known my father, he had always been strong, the one solid rock in my life. I couldn’t even remember the last time he had ever been sick or been to the doctor.

“It’s not funny,” I ground out through clenched teeth.

My father coughed again. “Sorry. You know your old dad—always deflecting with humor.”

It was hard not to laugh myself despite the situation, knowing that was true. My father had always been the type to laugh in the face of despair. But I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“No,” I said again, shaking my head even though he couldn’t see me. “No, there has to be something. Chemo, surgery—something. Whatever it is, I’ll pay for it. You know I can afford the best treatments, the best doctors.”

“Trust me, honey, the doctors have tried everything,” he said, his voice breaking. “But it’s too late, Raven. I’m going to die.”

“No!” The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate. My knees buckled, and I sank to the ground, the cool earth pressing against my palms. “You can’t. You can’t leave me. I need you.”

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” he said, his voice filled with a pain that mirrored my own. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. But you needed to know.”

Tears streamed down my face, hot and unstoppable. “You’re all I have left, Dad. Mom’s gone, and now you’re saying I’m going to lose you too?”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Raven.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My chest heaved with silent sobs as I clutched the phone to my ear, unwilling to let go of the sound of his voice.

My mother passed away when I was a child. A car accident. I hardly remembered her face, honestly; I was so young that all I remembered were flashes of beautiful brown eyes, honeysuckle blonde hair, and a sweet voice that used to sing to me when I was frightened of thunderstorms.

When she was gone, it was just me and my dad. No one else. Just us.

But now…

“Come home, Raven,” he said after a long pause. “Please, come home before it’s too late. I need to see you again. I know you’re on vacation, but—”

“I will,” I promised before he could finish, my voice barely audible. “I’ll find a way. Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll come home.”

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you too,” I managed, my voice breaking. “So much.”

The call ended, the line going dead, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I just sat there on the hilltop, the phone clutched in my hand, aching sobs wracking my body. The image of my dad, alone and sick, was like a knife twisting in my chest.

I had to find a way to go to him. I had to hold his hand one last time before I lost him forever. Damn the succession battle, damn the—

My horse nickered softly, nudging me with her velvety nose.

And then, suddenly, amidst the flood of grief, a memory surfaced—the horse, her wound, the tears that had healed her. My tears.

My breath caught as my fingers wrapped around my horse’s muzzle, and I sat up straight, my mind suddenly racing a mile a minute.

What if… What if I could heal him? The thought was wild, almost impossible, but it lodged itself in my mind like a vise and refused to let go. My tears had done something to the horse., right?

What if they could do the same for my dad?

Maybe I was crazy. Maybe what had happened that day in the forest was just some kind of crazy divine intervention, forces that had nothing to do with me.

But I couldn’t just sit here and cry. If there was even a shred of a chance that I had some kind of healing abilities, I had to give it a shot. I couldn’t let my dad die. Not when I had so much to tell him—not when we both still had so much time left together.

Clutching the phone tightly, a newfound determination washed over me. I would find a way to get home. I had to. For him.

For my dad.