Chapter 18 #3
Magnus took the parchment back and folded it into a hidden pocket of his robes. “It means the crops are starting to fail and we can’t wait any longer to leave. They need our help now. Today.”
“It’s still going to take some time for what they’ve asked me to do.” Brand rubbed a hand over one horn and down through his hair.
“Aye, but better they get water to the fields in the next two days, instead of four or five from now.”
Brand’s head flopped back, his eyes closing.
“Ahem, Your Highness, but why does my Highness look like you’ve just spat in his food?” Hedda sidled up with arms crossed. “He looked more than content the last time I checked in on him.” She threw Lunara a side-eyed look, her brow and one side of her mouth raising.
Sisters save her from shite-eating, puffed-up arseholes. She couldn’t even flirt poorly without everyone having an opinion about it.
You could have gone home, but no—you needed to make a deal with a king and wrap yourself up in nonsense that has nothing to do with you.
That’s when Lunara realized how high the sunstar was. She’d been so lost in Brand that she hadn’t noticed the practice field was completely devoid of anyone else. Or that half of the day had gone by.
The perfect excuse. Time to flee.
She took a tentative step back, wringing a curl in her fingers. “I should probably go and see to my healings. I’ll just…” She turned to leave—
“Wait.”
Brand was there in an instant, looking down at her. “No healing. Packing. We leave in an hour.”
What!
“An hour!” Hedda shrieked. “What in the realms is going on?”
Brand made a gesture at Magnus, who retrieved the message and handed it to the Demon commander.
“Can you hold our things for us?” he asked, ignoring the others again. “In the ether?”
“Of course. But…” The dagger’s handle dug into her palm, still there though she’d forgotten it completely. She raised it between them. “I was supposed to have two more days. Even that wouldn’t have been enough. I’m not ready.”
She hadn’t been ready for any of this. Couldn’t fathom what she was doing in Straelon, surrounded by Demons and Imperials and kings. Fighting with weapons.
Madness. Utter madness.
He engulfed her hand with both of his own.
“You’re going to be fine. You won’t even need it.
We’re only spending a few days at a village in the Westrealm.
Forget about the Forgotten and all that other shite.
The most you’ll need to worry about is whether or not you’re actually going to ingest the sheer amount of alcohol the Wolflords will be plying you with. ”
Lunara fought a hysterical bubble of laughter, tamping it down and bottling it up. As a result, her voice shook when she asked, “Promise?”
When Lunara started walking away, it was the first time Brand’s heart had turned over hard enough to make him sick in hours. The first time his lungs had constricted. That stinging jolt of panic had seized hold and convinced him he’d never see her again if he let her go.
She was bound to their journey, and being on it meant being close to her. So, in that moment, he’d made a snap decision.
If the Wolflords of Glynmor needed them now, then now they would go.
She was staring up at him with glassy uncertainty, her hand trembling beneath his own, clutching the dagger like her life depended on it.
He recognized the look on her face on a visceral level but, instead of feeding his own useless self-doubt, it called up a fierce need to soothe her.
Protect her. To erase that expression and ensure it never happened again.
He brought her clenched hand to his chest, pressing it to the spot above his heart. “I promise.”
She expelled a tremulous breath, wobbling slightly. “Okay. Alright. An h-hour, then.”
Brand released her and offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll meet beside the portal.”
She nodded, and he watched her go with clenched fists. The second she was out of sight, he turned on Magnus with a snarl. “Is it possible for you to at least try to be less of an arsehole.”
Mag reared back, gripping the collar of his robes with mock affront. “So angry,” he hissed towards Hedda out of the corner of his mouth.
Brand’s greater half seethed beneath the surface of his skin, split between tearing off in different directions.
Part of him wanted to follow Lunara and continue the closeness they’d been sharing. The ease. The fucking searing heat that’d been boiling between them.
The other wanted to beat his brother into an unrecognizable pulp.
“That’s the second time you’ve swaggered up and interrupted us.
” He crowded Mag, letting enough of his rage loose to bring him eye level with his brother.
To drop his fangs down. “The second time you’ve taunted and embarrassed her.
Do it again, I fucking dare you. You can ask my Second how I feel about people mistreating the Sorcerit. ”
Mag’s brows dropped, all humor gone in an instant. “Weeping Sisters. Is she—”
Brand’s fist was plowing into his face before he could finish that cursed fucking sentence. Magnus staggered back and righted himself but didn’t move to retaliate. Just flashed a satisfied grin, blood dripping from the split in his lip.
“Get all your shite to the great hall within the hour, and don’t forget it’s you that needs me—not the other way around.”
Magnus nodded, but Brand didn’t miss the way his eyes tightened, a shadow of hurt lingering there. “Aye, little brother. That’s the way of it. This time.”
Some of the fury trickled out of him, a thread of guilt weaving its way in. “Mag—”
“No.” He raised a hand. “You’re right. I’ll get my things.” Magnus only made it a few steps before he stopped, not quite looking back over his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you hurt, so I’m warning you now—until I’m sure of her, my only interest is in protecting you. Even if you hate me for it.”
With that, he left, taking the same path through the practice field as Lunara had.
“So, that went well,” Hedda said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Brand slumped on a burdened sigh, rubbing at his temples as he reverted to his usual size. “Not in the fucking least.”
“You have feelings for her, then?” she asked quietly. “Truly?”
“I…” He huffed a laugh, entirely unamused. “Fully raging on you the other night didn’t spell it out clearly enough?”
Hedda looked away, thoughtful. “There’s a lot of reasons you might’ve done so, but none as serious as what Magnus is implying.”
“As you are also now implying.”
She drew herself up straighter but said nothing.
He wasn’t ready to give voice to his inkling. He’d just punched his own brother in the face over it. Hedda sure as shite wouldn’t be hearing it first.
Brand pulled his shoulders back, trying to ease the tension creeping in. “Portal. One hour,” he said, already walking away. “Bring your brother.”