Chapter 36
Soap and water splashed a discordant tune as Lunara washed Fern’s spiraling hair, grimy suds dripping from the strands and into a bucket below.
She could’ve easily snapped her fingers and had the mass clean, like she had for the rest of the Fae’s body, but some parts of healing were more than clinical.
It took attention and care to get someone truly well.
Lunara wanted her to know someone was there for her, even in sleep.
That she mattered enough to make the effort.
It had made all the difference when Brand had washed her hair in that icy river after Glynmor. He’d calmed her panic, made her feel safe, and she’d felt inspired to offer the same to Fern.
Besides, the task was a welcome distraction from everything.
A convenient way to stall, more like.
That, too.
For the hundredth time, Lunara surveyed the extensive damage to Fern’s body and wings, and had to force down deep breaths. Her own flesh still remembered their moment of connection in the watchtower. The agony it had caused.
The excuse of getting the Fae clean was a convenient one, giving Lunara the time she needed to prepare herself for the inevitable.
Oh, just get it over with.
Right. As soon as she—
The door opened, and Nyri breezed in, tray in hand. “Good morning! How’s my newest friend?”
Lunara snorted. Leave it to Nyri to make friends with a comatose creature. “Still mangled.” She averted her eyes, rinsing her hands and pretending to look for a towel. “Have you seen Brand this morning?”
Oh, good one. You definitely pulled off the indifference. The high-pitched, breathy quality wasn’t at all tragic.
He’d artfully extricated them from yesterday’s meeting before she could rip out all of her hair.
In truth, she hadn’t quite recognized him, steeped in diplomacy and subtle wording.
She was starting to get the impression that Brand had many facets, depending on which role he was filling.
So far, she’d met the lover, the Demon, the warrior, and the Ambassador. Sisters knew who else he was hiding.
Lunara couldn’t decide whether it was a comforting notion or an alarming one.
She just wanted him—not whichever version it was who’d tucked her into bed with a chaste kiss on the forehead before disappearing, without leaving so much as a note to tell her what in the bleeding realms was happening between them.
Even Lyriat—the arsehole—had thought to leave a note.
Brand had called her his home. She’d maybe, possibly, started to think the same of him in return.
At the very least, she’d thought they would sleep beside one another.
Or that he’d be there when she woke up. And why the guest room instead of his own chamber?
Her parents had always shared a room and bed, as mates were supposed to do.
Unless… Demons were different and didn’t live in the same space as their mates?
No. That would be silly. Right?
You still being here is the only thing that’s silly.
Strictly speaking, they weren’t actually mated yet. The bond had yet to be forged, and… Shite. Maybe he was having second thoughts. It would explain his staying away from her. She could be confusing his kindness with interest, while he was simply trying to be a decent person.
She had screeched loud enough to bring the mountain down in that bizarre room with its spine-chilling door, and said some very bold things. Then again, if he was the type of male who would disparage her for speaking her mind, perhaps it was for the best they hadn’t done anything permanent. But—
Admit it. You have no idea what you’re doing. You know what might help? Speaking to him. Honestly, when did you get so dense?
“Yes, Luna. I’ve seen him.” Nyri gave her a smug, knowing look as she set the heaping tray down.
“He said, and I quote, ‘Take this to Luna. Now. She’s to eat every bite, before healing—make sure of it. I’ll be there shortly, and she can begin,’ and then he walked away.
Technically, that was over an hour ago. Don’t tell him. ”
The Demon. As if she hadn’t been healing on her own just fine for fifty-two years. High-handed, overbearing— “Let me guess. He was raging when he said that?”
Nyri’s brows punched up. “How did you know?”
Lunara’s nostrils flared as she snapped a thread of power out, evaporating the water particles from Fern’s hair and clearing away the bucket of murky water. “I’m quickly learning you Demons have a way about you in that state. No offense.”
“Fair…” Nyri’s voice trailed off, her eyes wide. “Burning Solyrian. Have you ever seen hair like that?”
It was quite a bit shorter than her own, but Fern’s was more free. The curls were tighter, fuller, coiling every which way with a beautiful madness. It couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be lavender or honey in color, both and neither at once, depending on which way the light hit.
Absolutely stunning—and Lunara couldn’t care less at the moment.
“No.” She gritted her teeth and shored up the magic keeping Fern in her stasis. Just in case. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, Brand said—”
“I know what he said.” Lunara flung the door wide and made a sweeping gesture towards the corridor. “Let’s go. Shoo.”
If Brand thought he had the right to go stomping around and using others to issue orders from afar, he had another thing coming.
Nyri looked positively delighted by the turn of events, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh-hoo. Is he in trouble? Once, his Highness— What’s this?” Nyri skidded to a stop and plucked a folded piece of parchment from the floor, flashing her a coy look. “A love letter?”
Lunara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Hardly.”
It had been propped on the bedside, her name looped across the front in gorgeous calligraphy. When she’d seen it there, waiting… No. She refused to dwell on the way her heart had jumped with joy—right before plummeting into a wasteland of disappointment and furious indignation.
“‘Forgive my theatrics and any distress they may cause,’” Nyri read aloud, head down as she meandered into the hallway.
“‘Or have caused, actually, by the time you read this. Using you was necessary, and I hated every minute of it. Please know I hold you in the highest esteem, and count you as a friend. Lyriat, Demon King of Straelon.’” She raised her brows.
“Ooh, formal and dramatic. What did he do?”
At the very least, he’d surprised her. She’d never have guessed the bastard was a master thespian. His act—if that’s what it had been—deserved a standing ovation and any ensuing accolades. Truly.
She could only assume his aim had been to ‘use’ her to suss out whether any of the others in the room were the supposed imposter. How it would help him do that was beyond Lunara’s scope of understanding.
Arrogant prick.
Mostly, she was fuming over still having no idea whether Brand had known Lyriat’s plan, which could’ve been cleared up hours ago if he’d bothered to show his face. If he had known—
You’ll what, glare at him? Throw a fit at an Imperial Son? Or have you finally come to your bleeding senses and decided to leave?
They turned another corner, into the grand, glass-lined corridor leading to the great hall.
“Hello?” Nyri snapped her fingers in front of Lunara’s face. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to pull it out of someone else? Bal wouldn’t budge, but I’ll put it together eventually. People were in a right tizzy this morning.”
“Well, I don’t—”
“I still can’t believe I missed it, and for what! Bloody kitchen duty. Even Hedda put me off. I was sure she’d be the one to spill the sordid details. She’s soft with me like that. Sometimes. When no one is looking.”
“Nyri.”
“Brand was especially tight-lipped. I don’t know if it’s meant to be a realm secret or— Wait, is it? Something so shameful we have to keep it hidden from the other realms? Shite, I hadn’t thought of that. And there I was, blabbering on with his brothers right there—”
“Nyriadne!” Lunara yanked her to a stop outside the ornate double doors.
Nyri blinked wide, mahogany eyes at her, a flush of crimson crawling over her rounded cheeks.
Lunara drew in a deep breath and offered an encouraging smile.
There was no part of her that wanted to stifle even a drop of the young Demon’s spirit, but this was spectacularly poor timing for a chitchat.
“Forgive me, my friend. First of all, I don’t know whether I can talk about what happened.
I’m guessing not, though. Second, did you say “brothers” plural?
As in, more than one of Brand’s brothers is here? ”
She threw a fleeting glance towards the silent guards as her chest constricted, the vice squeezing tighter and tighter until it left her dizzy. If it was Araxis…
“Yes.” Nyri looped her arm through Lunara’s and dragged her into the great hall. “His Highness arrived last night during supper.” She giggled and lowered her voice. “It was almost enough to stop everyone’s gossip about you lot.”
Right. Okay. Another Imperial Son. Not a problem. She’d just… um…
Oh, no, please. Do go on. By the way, once again, the portal is right through those doors.
No. Running would implicate her more than anything else.
Fine. Change your name, your hair. Anything. Shite, change everything.
Lunara snorted. No amount of tonics or spells would be able to hide how starkly she resembled her mother—save for having her father’s exact hair color.
Besides, any number of Sorcerit would be able to see right through that trick.
Not to mention she’d met Araxis, long ago. He’d recognize her immediately.
Shitting stars, she’d have to face him.
Why hadn’t she told Brand the truth when she’d had the chance?
Why hadn’t she trusted him? He’d pestered her enough in the chasm, open and waiting, but no—she’d had to go and give him the silent treatment to protect herself.
Now, she was about to be outed to her Imperial mate as a treasonous liar by the highest powered creature in all of the damned Evesong!