Chapter 17
Brand drew the blade of his small carving knife along the block of wood, a curl of luminescent turquoise and dark viridian falling to his lap.
He kept one eye on his project, and the other on the practice field below—on Lunara—just as he’d been doing for days.
Hedda was pushing her well beyond her limits.
Every night that he watched Lunara lose her guts to the ground, he wanted to rage.
Wanted to gather her up and ensure that she never felt any discomfort ever again.
It was a lesson in torture to sit up there in his tree branch perch and resist the urge to make himself known.
If Lunara was anything like him, which—thank the sweet Sisters—she was, she’d be mortified to know he’d been there, observing her in that vulnerable state.
He swallowed, eyes darting even though she couldn’t see him.
She’d probably be just as mortified to know that he’d seen her sleeping, bundled up like a babe in swaddling, rosy lips parted and chestnut curls shooting out in every imaginable direction.
He’d only stolen glances, intent on respecting her privacy while darting in and out of her chamber, but it probably wouldn’t matter to her.
She’d be embarrassed, he was sure of it. Probably wouldn’t ever speak to his sneaking arse again.
Meanwhile, he’d never get that captivating image out of his head. Ever.
There were worse things, he supposed. If he had to live the rest of his life with only memories of her, at least that was one of them.
Weeping Solyrian, she had completely bewitched him.
Brand pulled his shoulders back and shook himself, stretching his neck. No use feeling guilty. She was being tended to, and that’s all that really mattered in the end.
“Puking already, Sorcerit? I thought you were better than this now!” Hedda’s commander voice was like a banshee’s shriek in the still night. She even drowned out the waves crashing against the cliffs.
Brand leaned over to better see Lunara. Sure enough, she was bent over her knees, her body heaving.
For some reason, she refused to secure her hair in any way, and the ends dragged through the soiled grass.
Gritting his teeth at the sight, he willed Hedda to show her an ounce of mercy and hold the damned mass back for her at least.
Fuck, he hated this.
“I’ve gone… twice as long… as yesterday,” she said, gagging between her words. “I’m so tired.”
“Perfect. All the better for your enemies.” Hedda circled her like a vulture before leaning in closer, shoving her face into Lunara’s. “They won’t have to work as hard to slaughter you.”
“I’d be happy for a trip to the Veil.” Lunara let out a sound too close to a whimper for his liking, swaying precariously side to side. “Stars and arses, everything hurts.”
“Unfortunately for you, I don’t fucking care.” Hedda gripped the collar of Lunara’s wrapped tunic and hauled her upright. “You have more. Today, we go until you pass out. The retching is just icing, as far as I’m concerned. Now fucking move.”
With that, she shoved Lunara into motion, reaching out every time the Sorcerit slowed to prod her in the back, shouting insults and obscenities.
Hedda would call them encouragements.
His hand tightened around the block of wood Lunara had made him, the edges he had yet to carve digging into his palm hard enough to slice his skin. Brand’s greater half scraped at him, demanding to be set free and loosed upon the one offending the Sorcerit.
He breathed through the looming rage as she ran and ran, whorls of sunlight rising up in a burning dance across his flesh. Even his fangs began to drop before he clawed them back.
Lunara cried out and his heart lurched, ramming into his ribcage. He wasn’t sure he could manage it. What good did it do, really, to sit there and watch her suffer just to preserve her pride?
Carving forgotten, he gripped the bark beneath his hands and dug his nails into it, using the pain in every fingertip to ground himself. To breathe.
Time stopped when she stumbled and went slack, chestnut curls a billowing trail behind her as if to signal her pending fall. He watched—fuming, horrified—when she finally toppled, leaping from his perch before she even met the dirt.
Enough was enough. Hedda had gone too bloody far.
Brand’s feet hit the carpet of needles at the tree’s base, and he stomped through them without a care.
Hedda turned as he reached them, a haughty brow raised. “Your Highness.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He didn’t bother to reign in the snarling tone of his voice.
“I am not, thank you for asking.” She pretended to examine her nails, as if she’d ever cared about such a thing. “Just in the middle of hardening our little softy Sorcerit. Yourself?”
The rage swept over him at her flippant words. Forget trying to breathe through it—he was fucking seething. He let it loose, let it have control, the world going red around him.
The stars floating above turned pink, the hanging moons along with them.
Everything was awash in bloody hues, illuminated by the markings of his change, their patterns glowing as he grew and grew, towering over Hedda.
He jerked his head as his horns curled, two extra sets sprouting free to cage his skull.
His chest was heaving by the time his reshaping was complete, a constant hum drumming inside of him to crush and maim and conquer.
Thank the Sisters for the small mercy of that ridiculously expensive cloth he procured from his brother, Vann.
It had stretched around his legs to protect some modicum of dignity.
The tattered linen tunic hanging from his bulging shoulders was another matter.
“How fucking dare you, Second.” His voice was a depthless pit, a low wrath incarnate as he stared down at her. “I told you to train her, not abuse her.”
Lunara’s form was limp, her face half buried in the dirt, and her limbs were askew. He could tell from their position that she hadn’t even had the presence of mind to break her fall and protect her body.
A growl rumbled out of him at the sight. “The only reason I’m not choking the life out of you right now is because I know she would hate me for it.”
Brand bent and scooped Lunara into his arms. She didn’t so much as twitch, flopping awkwardly against his chest. Stars above, she was so small when he was like this, fitting easily into the crook of one elbow. Fragile, helpless, completely unaware that he could easily crush her if he wanted to.
Fortunately for her, he’d never wanted anything less in his damned life.
He couldn’t resist clearing the tangle of hair from her exquisite face, tucking it gently away and stealing another stroke along one arched brow and down her high cheekbone.
Brand wasn’t quite sure whether he wished for the action to wake her, to make those sea-blue eyes flutter open and behold him in his rage form, or whether he wanted her to never know this had happened. To stay asleep and lost in her dreams until morning, unaware he’d held her this closely.
“You will never treat her thus again, Second.” He didn’t bother to look at Hedda. She was probably rolling her eyes, and he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he saw it. “If she still comes to you tomorrow, take her to the spring cavern afterwards. It will help the pain.”
When Hedda huffed, Brand drew on every pitiful ounce of patience he possessed while raging and willed his hands to resist tightening into fists around Lunara’s vulnerable flesh in furious reaction.
“I don’t understand why she’s suddenly hurting.” Hedda’s sigh was like acid in his veins. “She was doing fine before. I only thought to show her that she has higher limits than she believes, as everyone does.”
Brand did turn on her then, lips peeling back to flash his fangs. “Pull your fucking head out of your arse for two minutes, and pay attention.”
Hedda was wise enough to hear the command in his tone. To realize he was not her friend right now, but an Imperial Son perilously close to snapping. She drew herself up and raised her chin, muscle ticking along her jaw, silent and waiting.
“She’s been healing during the day and then coming straight here. No gifts to ease the cost, no rest between. She’s caring for our people while you run her into the fucking ground. Is that a good enough explanation for you?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And where will you be taking her tomorrow, should she decide your training is still worth the fucking trouble?”
“To the spring cavern, Your Highness.”
“Good. You are dismissed.”
Brand didn’t wait for her to leave. Didn’t care where she went or how she got there. He’d turned all of his attention to the little moon in his arms.
Luna.
Yes, he liked that. Very much.
His larger size meant he moved more quickly, covering the distance to her room in a fraction of the time it would have taken otherwise. It was a travesty to lay her in bed still soiled with her own sick and the dull dusting of dirt on her skin, but there was no other choice.
As tenderly as he could with hands the size of supper plates, he tucked her in on the side she seemed to prefer and wrapped the blankets tightly around her. He twisted her hair back, tucking the damp ends away from her.
Even like this—filthy, haggard, so exhausted that she’d lost her bloody consciousness—she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld.
And Sisters, how he wanted her to be his.
The next night, Brand watched again from his spot in the tree.
Nyri had found the note he’d left her and ensured Lunara had plenty of time for a long bath that morning before her defense training with the twins. The proof was in the way her hair shone beneath the lantern light in fits and bursts, the curls bouncing and flowing. The glow of her luminous skin.
Unfortunately, his duties had precluded him from getting close enough to find out for himself whether she’d used the oils he’d left for Nyri to give her. Whether she smelled of spice and musk along with the moonlight that seemed to love her so well.
If her movements—smoother, stronger—were anything to go by, then Nyri had also followed his instructions to cut the line for healings shorter, giving her more time to rest and partake of an extra gift.
Anything, just to behold that confidence in her look, that substantial improvement in her footing.
When Hedda finished—long before Lunara was about to lose her dinner or keel over—he followed them silently through the practice field, keeping to the shadows.
His Second led Lunara to the base of the mountain just outside the ring of lantern posts and the small, winding path that crawled upwards between two jutting boulders.
He waited until their crunching steps were a distant murmur and took to the path himself, climbing the short distance to the cave mouth.
Inside, he knew it would be thick with steam, the hot mountain spring bubbling up from Sisters-knew-where and heating the space.
Stalactites commanded to glow at all times jutted down like frozen rays of pure sunlight, and the milky-blue water glittering beneath them was rife with magic—seeping straight into bones and soothing aches as nothing else could.
Brand settled himself in beside the wide opening with his back against the mountainside, and resumed his carving. The stars twinkled overhead, and he would have sworn that moonbeams were concentrating at the cave mouth, as if to reach in and chase after Lunara.
He could appreciate the inclination.
The hushed cadence of her voice reached his ears, the awe and wonder in her gasp, and he couldn’t help the curling of his lips. The deep breath that found its way in knowing she was enjoying herself.
Brand focused on his swiping knife. On feeling the blade slide along the grain, resisting, until he held a perfect coil. On the shape gradually emerging from the wood beneath his fingertips. On the slow and steady beat of a heart that was at peace in this place, close to her.
He’d given her space—time to find her stride and gain some confidence—without the pressure of him being nearby. Sisters knew her proximity during certain parts of his day would have him sweating, wondering if he was making a good impression or catching her eye.
Tomorrow, that would change. There were still a couple of days before they were set to leave for the Westrealm, and he wanted to be part of her training.
Actually, if he was being honest, he wanted to take it over entirely.
Wanted the excuse to be close to her, to touch her, sharing a part of himself like she’d done for him.
He nodded to himself as his resolve solidified.
Yes. Tomorrow, everything would change.