Chapter 40
“You hear two voices?”
Lunara almost laughed. Of course that was the thing Brand latched onto—she would, too. The tears streaming down his reddened face stopped her, though.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I used to think I was going mad.” Sisters, she was so wrung out. “Shite, there’s so much more to tell you.”
Brand dashed the backs of his hands across his cheeks. “Truth be told, I’m not sure how much more I can handle, little moon.”
Lunara had ended up on the opposite side of the bed, back propped against the footboard so she could face him and have some distance. She’d been afraid his touch would only wreck her. Make it impossible to continue.
Not once had he interrupted her, or asked questions.
He’d sat there, silent, taking every blow she delivered.
Strange, to watch the things her body felt manifest in his instead.
She hadn’t cried, but he’d sobbed for her.
She hadn’t choked on her words, or stumbled over recollections, but he’d buried his head in his hands precisely when she would’ve.
The mating bond was intense, to say the least.
“The rest isn’t nearly as sad, I promise. Just lengthy, and complicated.”
“How so?”
“For one thing, I got so desperately lonely that I finally answered the door around the thousandth time Cordelia knocked on it.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. A good thing, too.” Lunara pictured the Firebane’s weathered face.
Her long, white hair and no-nonsense attitude.
They’d never been as close as before, but at least she hadn’t been completely solitary.
“It wasn’t comfortable, but she gave me a purpose.
Without my mother, there were too many creatures who needed advanced healing that weren’t getting it.
I took the most extreme of them, with the caveat of drinking a tonic at the end, so they wouldn’t remember me after. ”
“Caius and Thad?”
“You try forcing a memory potion onto an Imperial Son—that one in particular. Besides, we’d become close, and their departure was somewhat unconventional.”
“I’d say it worked out in the end.”
“Me too.” She gave him a half smile. “Besides, that was the day she told me Malachyr was dead. It happened almost immediately after the calamity, but it took me a few years to speak with her. It was the most relief I’d felt in a long while.”
Lunara still had days she didn’t believe it, though. Where she was sure he was stalking her, waiting for his chance to finish what he’d started.
“I still can’t believe all of Nachthelliae’s Keepers are… culled, I think you said? We’d always assumed it was an abdication, like an Imperial stepping down for the next Heir.”
She nodded, still having trouble accepting it herself sometimes. “I forced Cordelia to tell me of the others. My father hadn’t exaggerated—they all lose themselves in the end, and there’s no such thing as an oasis on the Isle. Malachyr was just the first to be so public about it.”
“Maybe a good thing, the culling. I’d have had to kill him myself if they hadn’t already done it.” His nostrils flared, horns curling ever-so-slightly. “I think Araxis has some explaining to do.”
“For the love of the Sisters, no!” she shrieked, hands clasped in supplication. A shudder worked its way through her. “Not on my account. The last thing I need is for the Blessed Nightmare of the Endless Dark to be thinking that I’m causing him trouble.”
“An overly dramatic name for a genuinely kind male, if a little rough around the edges.” He grabbed hold of her calf, kneading the muscles there as he stared into the middle distance. “How’d you do it, Luna? How’d you survive?”
She might’ve laughed or had some clever response for him a month ago, but the contrast between then and now was so staggering, she no longer had any idea.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
He nodded. “Why were you so afraid to tell me? I see nothing you’ve done wrong.”
That time, she did laugh, though she wasn’t amused.
“I didn’t know you, Brand. I didn’t trust you.
I’ve been running for so long, I hardly know how to do anything else.
And I assumed—incorrectly, I think—you might feel obligated to inform them.
Turn me over, and good riddance.” She swallowed, finally getting to the crux of the issue.
“The second they find out I’m alive, not only will they want answers, they’ll want me.
My gift is no small thing, and there hasn’t been a healer as skilled as my mother in all the years since she’s been gone.
I’ll be a coveted prize and I’m terrified they’ll do anything to have me—including using you against me. If you got hurt, or worse—”
“I won’t let that happen,” he growled. “I am an Imperial Son, and you are my mate. What argument could they have?”
“I’m not worried about their arguments, Brand. I’m worried about the underhanded, lawless ways they might subvert you and the rest of your family. I have the ability to harness our most precious resource and do whatever I want with it. They’ve done far worse for far, far less.”
His head tipped back against the bed frame. “Fuck.”
One word. One, single word and she felt the world crumbling around her again, her mind and body detaching from each other. Why did he look resigned? Why did she feel heartbreak and regret in their bond? Why did—
“No!” He lunged for her, gathering her into his arms. “No, no, no. Forgive me. That was for you. For everything you’ve been through. Nothing more, I swear it. I’m here, and I’m staying.”
Her breaths were ragged, terror bleeding out in little pinpricks over her skin. “The bond is…”
“A heaping pile of wonderful, bloody confusing shite?”
Lunara huffed. “Something like that.”
Brand tipped her face up, his thumb drifting back and forth over her cheekbone. “I’m so sorry, little moon. So fucking sorry for what happened to you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, her lids. Ran his nose along hers. “Tell me their names, so I may remember them with you.”
“Stellan the Gemwright and Almaura the Bonewhisperer.”
His intake of breath meant he recognized the names.
Anyone with any knowledge of Starkeep probably would.
After all, the capital of the Evesong only functioned as it did because of her father’s inventions—and they’d been the only two elders who’d perished in the calamity.
Miraculously, those whose towers had crumbled that night had all been gathered at the same party, on the opposite side of the Upper Block.
If only their servants and staff had been as fortunate.
“They were Stellan and Almaura,” she whispered, “and they were wonderful.”
The flood of tears finally came, spilling over to the sound of her wracking sobs.
Brand caught them all against his shoulder, rocking her as she let out fifty-two years’ worth of agony and finally accepted it.
At least, some of it. Amazing, how much easier it was when there was someone to share it with.
When she’d finally wrung herself out—boneless exhaustion heavy on her limbs—Brand stretched away from her.
The dagger from Faldir appeared in his grip. “I found this on the mantle, gathering dust. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t realize you’d left it behind.”
She’d completely forgotten about it. The day they’d left for Thodelebor, she’d stood in front of the fire for what had felt like hours, trying to decide what to do. In the end, there’d really only been one, logical choice.
Lunara plucked a curl from her lap, twisting it as she looked away. “I didn’t feel confident enough, worthy enough, to bring a weapon. I’d had only hours to train with it. It was more likely I’d accidentally stab one of you than anyone who might deserve it.”
“They were quite the few hours though.” His voice was low, teasing.
Her body had no trouble remembering the way he’d molded himself to her, running through the motions over and over and—
“You were flirting with me.”
He chuckled. “Of course I was bloody flirting with you. Poorly. I had an inkling we might be mates. It was my attempt to get closer, using teaching as a very convenient, not-at-all-obvious excuse to do so.” His finger teased around the bedsheet, across the swells of her breasts, dipping inside to pull it away.
“That explains why I didn’t learn a single thing,” she admitted, her back arching. “You were too distracting.”
“Mmm.” His lips landed between her collar bones, tongue dipping into the hollow between. “I know what you mean.”
“Is this real?” she breathed, a catch in her voice. “Was it really so easy as that?”
He detached his mouth from her neck and met her eyes. “I told you it didn’t matter. That I was yours and the rest be damned. When will you believe I meant it?”
She wasn’t sure when it had happened, really. “I believe you now.” She cupped his face, wonder dawning. “Sisters help me.”
He’d kept his word at every turn. Had proven over and over again he could be trusted.
Brandir aht Bordoroth, Blessed of Straelon, High Ambassador and Fourth Imperial Son of Alwyn and Fionerys was that rare and wondrous thing she’d thought long gone.
A good person. Honorable to his core. Compassionate and mindful of those who depended on him. He was everything.
His bellowed laugh burrowed right into her.
“Maybe someday you won’t sound so terrified of the prospect.
Now…” He shifted to his knees and gripped her ankles, tugging her flat and laying her body out before him.
“As I said before, I’m still starving. And when I’m done with my meal, we’re going out to the practice ground. ”
Her body writhed, responding to the gravelly promise in his voice. “We are?”
Brand sobered a little, his look fierce. “The Elder Council will never touch you, Lunara, I swear it—whether it’s my hand that defends you or your own. I would give you that peace of mind. So yes, every morning and every night, that’s where we’ll be.”
“Okay,” she rasped, eyes pricking again.