Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
The week before the spring Star goddess festival was absolutely unbearable.
Everyone was visiting and talking and cooking. The bees were waking up. Sloan had been told by Cadeyrn to keep an eye on Tor, so he’d been home, growling alongside Aleana like a rabid beast while he was out and trying to get the hives ready for summer.
Tor had spent hours with Fredda and had then headed up to visit the clutch up the mountain.
Sloan and Cadeyrn had followed, Fredda had cried, and Tyr had managed to avoid Tor for days by working in the daytime and wandering the house in the deep of the night.
Tonight was the night he ran out of time. He was caught making a little trip to the kitchen.
“What are you craving? Our omega liked grapes. You know you’re the size of a house,” Tor said from the darkness.
“Apples.” In all their forms. “Don’t start.
” He didn’t need this nonsense. “You know as well as I do that I’m pregnant, and I don’t need to be teased about my belly.
” He was round, of course, but he wasn’t huge.
In fact, he was readying for the work to come in the summer, which were altogether too close already. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
Tor lifted one eyebrow. “I can’t just be here?”
Tyr stared at Tor. He wasn’t a bumpkin or a child, so that glibness didn’t work for him. “Of course you can, but we both know that you’re not just here. So why don’t we not lie about it?”
“My, you’ve definitely lost some of your delicate sensibilities since we talked last.” Tor stepped into the light, eyebrows raised.
He inclined his head once. “I really have. You haven’t so much as given a single thought toward us in so long, and then suddenly here you are? I’m sorry if I think it’s odd, and I’m curious as to why you are here.”
“Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t nefarious?”
He gave that some thought. “Probably yes. We are brothers, twins, after all. So, I would probably believe you.” Tyr said it, even though it wasn’t exactly true; he didn’t really believe.
In fact, he was quite worried.
Tor offered him a milquetoast smile. “I came to meet the new clutch, see what new things they’ve added to the spring festival. I’ve heard so many good things about the feast that I’m curious to know.”
His temper flared, the scent of burned honey sudden and strong. “Don’t lie. No one in your beloved D’kryw has ever heard anything about us, and we’re happy with that.”
Tor looked at him and blinked, the expression closed and careful. “But I did know about the clutch, and my dear brother, I knew how to find your mate’s brother as well.”
“Yes, well, you’ve always been clever.” He put his hand over his belly, frowning deeply. What are you saying?
I’m saying that things aren’t going as easy as we had hoped. Nothing. “I am. It’s one of the reasons I left. I am curious about our traditions.” Someone is altogether too interested in your little village.
You mean our little village.
They have children. This is about the children.
“What? Are you studying us now?” His lips parted, and he shook his head. No. They can’t have the babies.
But now you understand. I’m here for a reason.
He was going to throw up. He and Tor had always been able to communicate on a very tight band of twin speak mentally, and that conversation below the one happening aloud was making him sweat.
Mate, are you well? Sloan was trying to go to sleep, and Tor shook his head, warning him.
I’m fine, just hungry. Go back to sleep. Then he turned to stare at Tor, his mouth still trading quips and barbs with his brother as he spoke in his head. What do we do?
I don’t know. But I know once your friends up the mountain showed up, the sorcerers at D’kryw acted as if someone had kicked over an ant hill.
Tyr took a deep breath. What does that have to do with the children?
There are certain children who have the spark. Some are nature bound; others are like me. I don’t know. I’m not being coy. I don’t know, but I intend to find out.
So do I.
Tor smiled at him, the look assessing. Brave brother.
This is my home.
It was mine too, and we might have our differences, but I have never once allowed you or our sister to come to danger. You must admit that.
Tyr nodded, because Tor was his family, his twin, he’d breathed the same air in their first breath. So what do we do?
Nothing. Not yet. To keep her—them—safe, I think we keep our knowledge close to our chest.
So I’m just supposed to trust you?
You have, yes. I do have their best interests at heart.
Aleana was suddenly standing there, her eyes flashing. “Tell me again how none of this is nefarious?”
“Really, you had to get a hold of her?”
“One, she’s our sister.” More importantly, that’s her daughter. We don’t keep secrets from family. “And two, she heard us fighting.”
Of course we do, especially when those secrets keep them safe.
We keep each other safe. And you? She snarled. “The whole hive heard you two idiots snarling and snapping at each other.”
Aleana please. We’re building up too much energy. If anyone is watching…
“Well, stop yelling at each other. You’re going wake Fredda.” Giving them a glare that said this was far from over, she turned on her heel and stomped away from them, her shoulders up around her ears.
Tyr knew that wouldn’t be the end of it, but in case someone was trying to listen in on their conversation, they needed to end it now.
Tor pulled in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, brother, I didn’t not mean to make you feel as though I was up to something,” he said aloud. He smiled a placating smile. “Now tell me about spring festival. What is the plan?”
“This season, we’ll all be going to Cadeyrn and Poe’s home,” Tyr said.
“They have a big open meadow beside their home, and much of the food preparation will be done outside. There the meat cooks on open fires. Everyone will bring a dish or two, and Cadeyrn will set up tents in case of spring storms. We have our Spring Feast there, so we are creating a lovely meeting space halfway in between our families.”
In his head, he told Tor, I am thankful for you, brother, even if the necessity of you being here makes me unhappy.
I understand. I will do my best to keep everyone safe here. You must believe me. Aloud, Tor continued, “Ah, I shall have to make cnoi nut bread to take and share.”
“Even better, I will show you how to make what they call nut rolls out of them. They take bread and cover it with sticky glaze and put nuts in and bake them.”
Tor lowered his voice, his actual love for Tyr ringing in it. “I would appreciate that, my brother. I am grateful that you’re willing to show me anything after me being gone for so many years.”
He understood those words were probably an act by Tor to make sure that anybody watching would feel as though they were reconciling slightly, but no matter how many years they’d been apart, he still knew his brother so well. Tor had meant the words.
“As long as you’re here with no intention of causing harm, you know I am happy to see you, brother.” He held out an arm, and Tor walked to him, coming to give him an embrace. “Now will you have a snack with me?”
“Of course I would. Your mate won’t mind?”
“Sloan is very tired. I would like for him to be allowed to rest for a while. He watches over me well.”
“He truly does. I’m so glad that you have such a guardian as your mate.”
“So am I, and his brothers are also well versed in protecting dragons from any outside threats.” He had always hated this sort of conversation within a conversation, but it was necessary.
There were things he knew. Things he had not told Sloan about those who dwelled in the cities, and about the legends that came from them. He hadn’t wanted to need to, but now he must find a way to sit down with his mate and have this discussion.
For right now, though, he was starving, and he pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of honey, some of Tor’s favorite nuts, and some apples. It would be a fine snack for him and the little one inside him.
Tor smiled and started slicing bread while Tyr cut up some of the fruit. They worked quietly together, easily reading each other’s thoughts as they always had, moving about one another with no trouble.
Just as they sat down to eat their snack, a scratching at the kitchen door made him jump, the sound like an animal trying to get in. His gaze flew to Tor’s in a panic. What do you think it is?
I don’t know, brother, but I will check. You stay behind me.
Let me call to Sloan.
Tor raised his hands in front of himself, and they began to glow with golden light. I don’t need your mate to protect me.
Perhaps not, but maybe Tyr needed Sloan to protect him.
He stepped forward. “This is my house.”
And he was going to do whatever it took to protect his bees. They were his wards, his responsibility.
So it was going to be him.
Tyr put his hand over his belly, the baby inside rolling violently, and he opened the door and gasped. An orblok stood there, filling the doorway, white feathers bedraggled and skinny, a baby clinging to its belly fur.
He blinked. “Uh, can I help you?”
She walked in and sat, relaxing down with a sigh.
“Is that an orblok?” Tor blinked at it. “She looks hungry.”
“She is hungry. She needs to be able to feed her baby. I’ll be right back.” He went and gathered up a bowl of seeds and nuts, along with some fruit, and then another bowl of rich, good buttermilk.
He took it back and sat it down in front of her. The little one made a wild screeching noise, and the mother used her winged claw to grab a handful of food and bring it to her mouth, munching happily.
“Someone’s hungry for sure,” he said, right before the baby squealed and dove into the bowl of milk face-first, slurping hysterically.
It was at once adorable and a little desperate, which was sad.
“Okay, I think I need to get another bowl of milk.”
“You need to sit and feed your baby. I’ll get the milk. Figures my brother would get an orblok for his guardian. An orblok.”