Chapter 30
brYLEE
Harper leaves immediately to—hopefully—find an extra bodysuit. I love the girl dearly, but I wouldn’t put it past her to get distracted with a certain handsome guard.
As soon as she slips out the door, I begin my own mission: Operation Find Teddie.
It isn’t terribly difficult. When we were children living at the castle, our parents designated an entire wing for the two of us. That wing turned into “Teddie’s wing” when we both moved out. I think my parents secretly hope he’ll return home and perform his duties as the crown prince.
Sunlight streaks through the stained-glass windows as I venture down the hall. I’ve never overly paid attention to the designs depicted on the glass, but now I can’t help but look.
One large window shows a siege tower ablaze, its wooden structure consumed by orange and red flames, with the glass using deep crimson to represent blood spurting from fallen defenders.
The besiegers at the base are rendered in dark, menacing blues and purples, their faces twisted in rage as they storm the walls.
Another panel depicts a battlefield after the slaughter, with broken weapons and dismembered limbs scattered across a field of brown and green glass.
In the center, a knight lies impaled on a spear, his armor shattered, his mouth open in a silent scream of agony.
The artist has used jagged pieces of glass to represent the wounds, creating a three-dimensional effect that makes the injuries appear to pulse with each shift of light.
A third window shows a lord being executed by his captors, his head held high in defiance as the executioner's axe descends. The glass captures the moment just before impact, with the lord's eyes fixed on something beyond his immediate fate. His family? Loved ones?
These windows serve not as decoration but as warning, their gruesome beauty a testament to the horrors of war. When the sun shines through them, it bathes the hall in a rainbow of death, transforming light itself into a memorial to the atrocities committed in the name of “country” and “honor.”
How long have we been fighting the Noths? Off and on for hundreds of years? The most recent exchange has lasted fourteen years—more than half my life.
When will it ever end?
I don’t even know what started this feud. Well, I do, but I can’t help but think there’s more to the story than what my family has told me.
Apparently, hundreds of years ago, the two countries participated in a marriage alliance that ended in bloodshed.
A murder-suicide, according to the documents.
The Noths blamed the Hypsos, and the Hypsos blamed the Noths.
The first war lasted over twenty years before eventually ending in a ceasefire.
That tenuous peace held for three years before the Hypsos invaded a Noth fort near the border.
Then there was another war. This one only lasted a year and a half, but the body count doubled that of the prior war.
On and on this has gone, the cycle never ending.
What started the most recent war? Wasn’t it an attack on a trading post? I can’t recall.
These thoughts percolate in my head as I find myself standing in front of Teddie’s quarters.
I know, from memory, that it’ll be a long hallway with half a dozen rooms, three on either side.
Three bedrooms, a bathroom, a study, and a rather small library—at least small in comparison to the castle’s main one, located two floors down.
One of those bedrooms used to be mine.
I wonder if it’s the same or if my parents removed my belongings. Is there still a four-poster bed dominating the center of the room with a sweeping canopy overhead? Is my collection of stuffed animals still tucked away in the closet?
Nerves pinball in my stomach as I forgo knocking, sweeping in like I own the place.
I bypass my old bedroom—no point unveiling old wounds, especially ones that haven’t healed properly—and head straight toward the library. I know I’ll find my twin there.
What the library lacks in space, it makes up for in books.
Towers after towers of books balance precariously on wooden tables.
The shelves are practically overflowing.
There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason for any of the book’s positioning.
Medicine is sitting next to fiction. War theories reside beside romance.
It’s a maze of disorder, and it’s fucking perfection.
Teddie’s asleep at a large table in the center, one arm indolently sprawled across his forehead. One book rests open in front of him, while another sits on his chest, the papers crinkled.
For a moment, I study him, completely unencumbered, my brain cataloging every minuscule change from when I last saw him.
Is he paler?
Are there shadows under his eyes?
Does his skin have a green tint?
Is he—
“I can feel you staring at me like a creeper.” Teddie’s voice is a low, raspy drawl.
Shame floods my cheeks, though indignation quickly nips at its heels. “I wasn’t staring at you like a creeper. I may have been staring, and it may have been moderately creepy, but I wouldn’t say I’m a creeper.”
I huff and fold my arms over my chest.
One of his eyes opens, sparkling with mirth. “Such a creeper.”
“Takes one to know one,” I say, like the mature princess I am.
Both his eyes open now, and his lips stretch into a mischievous grin.
“Are you going to say that stupid nursery rhyme now? How did it go again? Twinkle, twinkle, little star. What you say is what you are.”
“I wonder how the citizens of Hypso would feel if they discovered their crown prince and future king was such a dork,” I jest, moving to claim the chair opposite him at the table.
I have to physically move a few dusty tomes in the process.
A strange shadow flits across my brother’s face. “I wonder how the citizens of Hypso would feel if they discovered their crown prince and future king was dying.”
Pain lances my heart, an acute sort of agony that makes me suck in a breath, heat scorching my airways.
“Teddie,” I admonish, “don’t say shit like that.”
A weak, humorless chuckle passes through his chapped lips. “Sorry. I’ve just been feeling…”
He shakily runs a hand through his blond hair, causing the strands to stick in every direction.
“Overwhelmed? Smothered? Suffocated?” I supply.
Being in the castle, around our mother, will evoke those sensations in just about anyone.
He forces a smile. “She had me attend a meeting last night with some of our top generals. They looked at me like I should’ve already known all of this information.
Then I realized…if I had attended Eros like Mom intended, I would’ve.
” He gestures vaguely toward the books in front of him. “So now I’m stuck playing catch-up.”
I swallow around the strange knot that has materialized in my throat. Strange…because it feels as if it’s stockpiled with razor blades, and every one is slicing at my esophagus with each passing breath.
“What if you weren’t playing catch-up?” I try to keep my tone nonchalant, even as my heart batters against my breastbone like a battering ram. “What if you were with the troops, learning directly from them? Working with the top generals?”
A derisive snort escapes my brother. “I could never do that. I can barely stand long enough to grab a book from the shelf.”
He instantly flinches at his confession, as if he didn’t mean to say that out loud, and fear whirls through me.
God, he’s getting bad. Really, really bad.
How long does he have?
What if we can never find a cure?
My heartbeat pounds with an intensity that makes my ears throb and my bones shake.
The thought of losing my twin wrenches through me.
It would be like losing a limb. But I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t want to dwell in that misery.
His jaw is already clenching. And so I circle back to the reason that I came.
“But if you wanted to,” I continue, ignoring his blunder. For his sake. I can tell that the last thing he wants to do is have an in-depth discussion on his waning health. “Would our parents let you?”
Teddie stares at me as if I’ve gone insane before nodding once.
“Of course. It would be good publicity to have their son fighting with the troops. They’ll, of course, send a team of publicists with me, as well as a fleet of armed guards.
Why?” His brows bank together in the center of his forehead.
“Do you want me to go to the front lines?”
A flicker of hurt seeps across his expression before he can mask it.
“No,” I cut in quickly, reaching across the table to capture his hand in mine. “I want to go.”
Shock momentarily slackens his jaw. This time when he stares at me, I don’t feel as if he’s questioning my sanity. He already decided that I’m certifiable.
“Brylee.”
He seems to be choosing his words very, very carefully. I can practically see the gears grinding in his head and smoke billowing from his ears. He opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, but not another word comes out.
“Get Mom to send you to the front.” I rush to get the words out while there’s still air in my lungs. I’m honestly afraid I’m going to pass out. “Send publicists. Send a team of guards. I don’t care. Please, Teddie. You need—”
“Woah. Woah. Slow down.” Teddie sandwiches my hand between both of his. “What’s going on? Brylee, you need to explain yourself.”
“My mates, Teddie. My scent matches.” Tears flood my eyes, and a few wayward droplets drip down my cheeks. “Mom sent them to the front line.”
Teddie’s expression immediately hardens. “What?”
“She wants me to marry a different pack, and… It doesn’t matter. The point is, she sent my guys to the front line, and I need… I need to get to them. You have to understand,” I plead, beseeching him with my eyes.
And I can see that he does understand.
Teddie has been with his omega, Caran, for years now. I imagine they’ll go through hell for each other, and vice versa. I don’t know where Caran is currently—probably still asleep in their bed—but Teddie would be absolutely devastated if they were separated and Caran was put in harm’s way.
“Bry, you have to know this is insane. Insane and dangerous.” Teddie’s hands instinctively flex around mine.
“I need to do it,” I tell him.
“Fuck.” He releases me and settles back in his chair, appearing dazed. “Okay. Fuck. I’ll see what I can do.”
Hope swells in my chest, a balloon inflated with helium, and I can’t stop the big, dopey smile from erupting on my face as I swipe away the tear tracks. “I love you so fucking much.”
“You better,” Teddie scoffs.
A soft smile breaks through his arrogant facade, and it warms my entire chest.
“But I will need you to do one more thing for me.” I clear my throat as I nonchalantly study my nails.
When I was a full-time student at Darling Academy, they were always painted a bright pink or red—either something unassuming or something designed to draw the eye, depending on the scenario. Now they’re chipped and rugged, the nails in desperate need of a cleaning.
“What?” Suspicion laces Teddie’s tone.
“How do you feel about wearing a wig?”