CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CLARK ENDLESS
Every night, I dreamed of Emma. But they weren’t the kind of dreams I wanted to have. I wanted to dream of having her here, with me. Of us preparing for the birth of our son. Instead, as we made our journey to the Winter and Summer courts, I had the same, reoccurring nightmare.
I’d be at my desk working on anything from crop projections from the different courts, to tax documents, then the tent door would flap open wearing Emma. She wore a simple, pink t-shirt, jeans, and a blue hoodie over her shoulders to keep her warm.
“Clark,” she would say, breathless, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”
She’d run to me, I’d get up from my desk, and run to her. I’d wrap her in my arms, and I would burry my face in her neck. I’d breathe in her smell. Strawberries, a
