Chapter 31
Lunara drained the flask Thaddeus had given her the day before. Nowhere near the same power she gained from Brand, but her control was too uncertain when feeding from him directly. No one needed to see that.
It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s better this way.
Lunara wasn’t so sure she agreed anymore. She was starting to see the possibility of a real life. A future where she wasn’t alone in the dark, but standing proudly next to her mate. It was daunting, but stars above, she wanted it.
For now, she had just enough strength left in her to see this last task through.
“I don’t like this.”
Brand lingered on the edge of the camp, jaw ticking, still fighting her demand that they leave.
Family always thought they knew best where healing was concerned, but they were rarely correct in that presumption. She’d had this exact conversation so many times she was numb to it, and his posturing did nothing to persuade her. Nothing to change her mind.
“I should be here. She’s going to need me.”
Lunara raised a brow at him. “Best case scenario, she’s going to be disoriented first, and then she’s going to be utterly heartbroken.
Vulnerable. She will then need peace and quiet, and the safety to do as she wishes without the pressure of others witnessing it.
We collectively denied her a choice once already.
We will now do her the courtesy of letting her decide how she’d like to move forward.
” She turned her back on him and made for his sleeping Second.
“I’m only asking you to be out of sight, not halfway across the realm, Brand.
Watch from behind a bush if it’ll make you more comfortable, as long as you stay there until she or I say otherwise—no matter what she does. ”
They’d discussed the very real possibility that Hedda would immediately try to murder her.
Lunara would hardly blame her if she did.
She’d stolen her autonomy, after all. Yes, it had been to save her from herself, but she’d been quietly sick over it ever since they’d returned to their camp and seen Hedda lying there, certain she was no better than the Elder Council after all.
“What if she—”
“Then I’ll handle it, Brand,” she snapped over her shoulder. “Whatever it is. Now, go.”
The quiet snickering floating in from the near distance didn’t help. He stared at her for a moment longer, resplendent even in his anger, before spinning on his heel with a low grunt and stomping into the trees.
“Finally.” Lunara settled gingerly onto the leaf-strewn ground and lifted Hedda’s limp hand in both of her own.
“Just you and I now, my friend. At least, I hope you forgive me and we can still be friends.” She sent out a thread and delved into the sleepy darkness of Hedda’s mind.
“Time to come back.” Lunara stroked her fingers, trying to draw her along softly.
“Follow my voice, the pinprick of light.”
Waking those she’d put under wasn’t quite the same exchange of pain and power as healing, but it was wearying nonetheless. It sapped her, trying to lull her to sleep instead.
At long last, Hedda blinked, her eyes unfocused but growing sharper with each passing second.
“That’s it. Relax and let it happen, slow as you like.” Lunara kept up her crooning, dreading the moment when—
Hedda’s gaze locked onto hers, a ragged hitch in her breath as her hand tightened, grinding Lunara’s knuckles against one another. Lunara breathed through the spike of pain, refusing to alert Brand in any way that this might already be going poorly.
Her heart pounded as Hedda’s other hand came up to grip her, dragging their clenched fists to her chest and pulling Lunara closer.
“You…” She sucked a breath through clenched teeth, tears gathered on her lashes and wobbling there. “He’s…” Her lids fluttered and they spilled over, falling down into her hair. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
Not what she’d expected, but she should have. Hedda was nothing if not pragmatic when she was herself. If only her return was something they could all be rejoicing.
Lunara’s eyes welled in response. “We tried,” she whispered, “but…”
Hedda nodded, shrinking in on herself.
“I’m so sorry for knocking you out. You were—”
“I know.” A sigh shook its way out of Hedda as she tried to sit up. “It’s like a nightmare. Like I was trapped inside while someone else controlled me. The things I said—”
“Weren’t you.” Lunara steadied her as she swayed. “There was something in your tonic I can’t identify, but we’ll talk about that later. How are you feeling?”
Hedda snorted. “Stupid question, Sorcerit.” She pulled away and scrubbed both hands over her face. “Where are they?”
“I sent them off to give you space.” Lunara sent a pointed glance into the trees. “Brand was particularly displeased with me.”
“Males usually are when you try to tell them what to do, especially those ones.”
“Would you like to see them?”
“No,” Hedda answered. “Not yet.”
Lunara felt more than heard Brand’s sharp gasp of disbelief. She tried not to feel too smug about it.
They stayed like that for a long time, Hedda staring across the sun-dappled camp as Lunara held her hand. Even the birds seemed to realize it was a moment for mourning, their calls distant and subdued.
Hedda drew a deep, sharp breath and said, “I think I’m ready as I’m ever going to be.”
Lunara had barely detached herself before Brand was there, dropping to his knees beside Hedda and wrapping his arms around her.
That was when Hedda lost it.
Heaving sobs wracked her body as she clung to him and poured out her agony. Lunara tried to look away, but it was too beautiful, even in its misery. Exactly the kind of thing she’d been missing out on all her long, lonely life.
It’s just as easy to cry on your own, without the awkwardness of dealing with another person when you’re done.
But being held… Knowing they felt the pain too and that she wasn’t alone in it… Talking to someone other than herself…
Complicated. Unsafe.
It was the strangest thing, but—watching Brand and Hedda in their rocking embrace, hearing his whispers and how they calmed his Second Commander little by little—it was easy to ignore what she’d always thought was the wiser part of herself.
To realize, for maybe the first time in her life, her heart wasn’t threatening to pound its way out of her chest at the prospect of someone knowing her.
That she was perfectly content to sit there and take them in and wait for whatever came next.
Madness.
A large hand appeared in her periphery. “Come on then, witchling. Up you go.”
Another unexpected turn of events. Magnus had been kind but wary, up to now. Apparently, saving his life had softened him towards her somewhat. He might even be a friend.
Fool.
He helped Lunara to her feet and offered his arm as support while they retreated to the far side of camp, where Thaddeus was waiting.
“We need to get moving as soon as they’re done,” Magnus murmured. “The day is wearing on, and we’ve got a long while before we’ll see any rest.”
Lunara inwardly cringed. Every inch of her already ached, her bones weary to their marrow. “I’ll gather everything up.”
At least manipulating her pocket of the ether barely taxed her power.
It was the work of a moment to clear away their abandoned bedrolls and blankets, the empty pans and remnants of stale food, trying and failing to ignore the fact that everything was exactly as she and Brand had left it the morning before.
She wasn’t the only exhausted one, and they still had the trek to the portal before they made it back to Straelon. Back to its Demon King, and the unavoidable task of informing him that his cousin was dead.
Shite.
“Think my da is back home or still with Lyriat?” Thaddeus asked from his perch on the ground, shredding the green bark off of a sapling stick.
Magnus snorted. “I think he’s wherever he suspects you’re most likely to show up, knowing you’ve sat there and tried to figure out how best to avoid him. Accept it, lad. You’re in for a lashing no matter which toll you throw into the portal.”
“I always forget the going back part of running away.”
“Aye, but your arse doesn’t.” Magnus clapped him on the shoulder with a soft chuckle, the sound sad. “Ten gold pieces says its puckering even now.”
Thaddeus loosed a long groan and flopped backwards. “Don’t remind me. I was doing a fine job of ignoring it.”
Lunara nudged him with her foot. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Ach, aye. It can.” He wiggled around in the dirt and leaves, a grimace on his face. “Still, it’ll be better than living out here for the rest of my life. I’d never survive without a bed.”
“There’s an idea,” Magnus said, a thoughtful look on his face. “Perhaps that’s how we’ll mark you. You’d be a legend—the mighty Wolflord warrior with feathers and a wee blankie tattooed across his scrawny arse.”
A giggle bubbled up as Thaddeus kicked Magnus in the shin and Lunara let it free, allowing herself the small drop of levity amidst the weight of reality.
You’re all over the damned place. How can you think this is good? Fine?
Because, alone in the dark Nachthellian wilds, there was no such thing as laughter to help stave off the burden of sorrow.
She sensed Brand approaching before he touched her, his knuckles brushing hers as he sidled up. He’d schooled his features into a bland mask, but it did nothing to hide the emotion roiling just beneath the surface.
Not when her skin was suddenly too tight, buzzing and numb at once. When an ache so deep it choked her formed and her lungs turned to lead, and—when every one of those sensations fell away as quickly as they’d come—Lunara realized those were not her feelings but his.
A memory of her parents, one long-since buried, sprang up from the lost depths of her mind.
Lunara had been young, hiding among the library stacks with no one the wiser. She’d thought herself clever when her mother had swept in and shut the doors behind her with a sigh, clearly thinking herself to be alone.