Chapter 23
You are quite literally the most eejit-brained, halfwitted fool in all of Bordoroth. This is the bleeding end of it, you know. All the plans… Poof! Fucking ash on the fucking wind.
Brand lifted a sardonic brow. “Care to explain?”
Lunara ignored that, which did not go unnoticed if the narrowing of his eyes was any indication. “I can shield only you.” Her eyes darted to Mag and Thad. “Four is too many.”
Oh well, if it’s only two… Sure! He’s probably rethinking every thought that’s not at all obviously whirring through his mind right now.
The well was almost entirely full. With a decent blood gift to release her of the pain she’d gathered since last night, it wasn’t too far-fetched to shield all of them.
But for how long? How far?
Exactly. It wasn’t as safe with four. As certain. She had no idea how quickly it would drain her. And she was basing her claim on the burgeoning realization that whatever was coating the ground and writhing in the chasm was so close to her experience with Meliora that she might actually throw up.
Maybe it was forcibly taking away Hedda’s autonomy that was making her nauseous. It went against everything she believed in, but what else could she have done?
Brand absolutely had to go, so there was no deterring him. One Son under her care was nightmare enough. Two and a half of them?
No. No way.
A low growl rumbled from Magnus’s chest. “Now wait a fucking minute—”
“Done,” Brand said, cutting off his brother’s protest and holding her locked in his stare.
Magnus bent and hauled Brand upright, hissing into his ear. “Have you misplaced your feeble fucking mind? All of us was insanity. This is… There’s not even a word for it! You don’t know her.”
It was unclear whether he thought she couldn’t hear him, or if he really didn’t give a shite.
“I know she threw herself in front of my Second and saved her from certain death.” Brand shrugged him off and straightened his tunic. “I know she wept as she buried an entire village of your people last night, and it wasn’t because of the cost to herself.”
Even with the looming danger, she warmed at his defense. And when Magnus hung his head, nodding, it gave her courage.
“I think we can agree that Caius would probably die on the spot if he found out all of you went into a chasm, especially Thaddeus. Not to mention your own parents.” She tamped down her shudder.
The Imperial Sovereigns of Bordoroth would probably make her wish the Council had been the ones to find her if she let something happen to their children.
“Someone needs to watch over Hedda and the Fae while I’m gone, and the two of you will be safer together. This is the least amount of risk.”
“Weeping fuck,” Mag breathed. “I suddenly understand Hedda much better.”
There was an endless quiet between them—one they didn’t have time for.
“Thaddeus, a moment?” For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to look at Brand. “I need to… get some things, if you’d be so kind as to accompany me back to the camp.”
A lie, but she needed privacy.
Can’t decide whether you’re finally using your brain, or if it’s gone and melted straight out of your arsehole.
She headed for the trees, Thaddeus’s loping steps gaining until he was picking through the forest beside her, and it hit her that she might never see him again. Not if the chasm claimed them the way it had so many others.
“Thaddeus?”
He looked down at her, brow furrowed.
Lunara chewed her lip, remembering the way he’d sometimes stared into the fire at her cottage, sharing quiet secrets while his parents slept. She’d given him trite responses, not understanding the full scope of what he’d been feeling.
Now, words clawed up her throat—final words, perhaps, for a friend who needed to hear them.
“Knowing more of your family now… They’re hard on you, like you always said, but you aren’t exactly making it easy for them. Brand just tried to send his most trusted warrior away because of how she was behaving. What makes your actions any different?”
That had been clear to everyone except the Demon commander. Lunara didn’t have any family left, but she knew well what the devastation of losing them felt like. She’d spent months in the same state. Years. Still wasn’t over it.
At least in sleep, Hedda would be able to forget for a while.
“Aye,” he whispered. “I can see the truth of that.” His lips twisted. “I’m just tired of being left behind. They treat me like I’m still a child, but all of my cousins had many battles behind them by my age.”
Thaddeus sighed and tilted his head back. His limbs were strong and packed with muscle, and he walked with a confident stride. He was younger-looking than Magnus—all soft blond curls teasing his cheeks and collar, and lacking the tattoos Wolflords earned after battle—but he was a male grown.
“I see it, Thaddeus, and I understand,” she said, grabbing one of his large hands. “Perhaps if you respect Magnus while we’re gone, prove you can handle any responsibility he gives you, they’ll begin to see, too. An apology wouldn’t hurt either. Promise me you’ll behave?”
It was paltry in the scheme of things, but he might remember her words someday and be better for it. Safer.
“Where is this coming from?”
She couldn’t look at him when she said, “If we don’t come back—”
“Lunara…”
“I mean it, Thaddeus. Promise me you’ll try to do better. Show your father, your cousins, that you’re the male you claim to be. Do it for yourself.”
He stared at her for a long time before nodding. “Aye, I will,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “I’d do anything that was asked of me. I just need someone to actually ask. I only wish to help.”
They reached the small camp, the Fae glowing faintly where she lay on the far side, a soft mound of moss beneath her broken body.
“Blessed Sisters,” Thaddeus breathed. “Magnus had only just gotten to the part about you finding someone alive when we reached the fields, but a Fae?”
Lunara detached herself from him and sat on her bedroll. “We found her like that in Glynmor. Magnus can tell you the rest. I haven’t the heart or the time for it now, and there’s a reason I asked you to come specifically.”
Fool.
She summoned her empty flask from the ether. “I was wondering… Well, I figured you’d understand, and I don’t know who else to ask. I’m not supposed to ask. But this is gone and—”
She’d only brought the one, thinking it would sit untouched while she gallivanted around Thodelebor for a few days. Her body was aching, torn between the humming energy of the well and the pain that healing caused.
For what they were about to do, she needed the security of a blood gift, even if it meant exposing her full power.
Thaddeus closed his hands around hers where they clenched the silver vessel. “Say no more.”
He took it and used one fang to puncture his wrist, the crimson trail flowing until the flask was full to the brim. “Accept this gift, freely given,” he said, intoning the words of their shared people as he handed it back.
Lunara moved to heal his wound, but he shooed her away. “That is for later. You already know I’ve never fed, but I’m well aware it’s more potent this way.” He offered her his still-bleeding arm. “Go on.”
“I… haven’t done that for a very long time,” she admitted.
For good reason!
“Aye. You said that when da offered, too. He got you to take it, though, and that was the day you woke up Mam.” Thaddeus waved his arm under her nose. “Once again, the life of my family is in your hands.”
He was right. She knew he was right. That didn’t stop the cold sweat from breaking over her brow.
“Swear to me… Swear you won’t tell another soul what you’re about to see.”
There was a reason she only took direct gifts from Cordelia—Caius being the one exception in fifty-two years. Yet another thing that would give her away.
Thaddeus flashed a lazy grin. “You mean the way your eyes go swirly? Already seen it. Never said a word. Don’t plan to.”
Lunara blinked, stunned.
Tilting her chin up, he gave her head a little shake.
“You have nothing to worry about. I wanted to know if it would be the same for me if I ever decided to feed, so Da and I talked about it once. That was it.” He raised his arm again with a pointed look.
“We both know what you are, but your life is your business. You might find that most of us feel the same.”
Beyond the buzzing in her ears and the furious pound of her heart, there were too many thoughts for Lunara to process.
They’d known, and had said… nothing?
Maybe Brand would be willing to do the same.
Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t—
Too late.
If Lunara was going to her death, she’d be having as many wondrous ideas as she could.
“I don’t like this one fucking bit.”
Brand had the insane urge to laugh. “No one in their right mind would like this.”
Solyrian was climbing higher, its cheery rays at odds with his mood. Just like the chirping birds and swaying flowers made no sense. How was nature able to remain so oblivious?
“This is madness.” Mag was pacing, hands knotted at his nape. “We don’t even know if he’s alive.”
They both stared at Hedda, fast asleep in the grass and dirt beside them.
“He likely isn’t,” Brand admitted, dizzied by the prospect. “But we’d planned to find out what happened in Glynmor, and I would say this”—he gestured all around them—“is not a coincidence.”
Already, Hedda might never forgive him. If he refused to try on top of keeping her away, he’d be losing both of them.
“Is one male really worth the risk?”
An age-old question, if ever there was one.
Brand did laugh then, not the least amused. “I don’t know.”
When it was someone beloved in danger, the answer was almost always yes.
When it meant taking Lunara into a place like that, sacrificing her life, he was suddenly much less sure.
Weeping arseholes.
His heart turned over, torn in too many different directions. That familiar, invisible fist came next, choking him, a weight settling on his chest.
Shite.