Chapter 40 #2
“Where were we again? Ah yes.” He dove in, hands plastered against her thighs as he licked long and slow up the center of her. “Hands up, little moon,” he rumbled against her, “and leave them there.”
That night was the first Brand slept in days, and he dreamt.
Not the usual faff bending the mind in strange ways. Instead, a sense he’d seen it before but couldn’t place where followed him throughout. It almost felt like a memory.
The only problem was that, in the dream, he slipped Pet’s guard and used his power to scale the Imperial mesa with no one the wiser—something he was positive he’d never done.
He’d thought about doing it, though. Constantly.
When he should have been paying attention to lessons and instructors, he’d planned all the ways he could escape the responsibility and incessant public scrutiny.
How he’d build a small home for himself somewhere secluded and pretend he’d never heard the words Imperial Son or High Ambassador.
Maybe that’s why he found himself trailing an eight- or nine-year-old version of the child he used to be through back alleys of the Weeping City, the Palace of Argoph shrinking away in the distance behind him.
It made an odd sense that he would manifest his wildest childhood dream right after the one he’d carried through adulthood had become a reality.
Two days spent making love to the exquisite creature of his fantasies, merging their souls, was bound to call other desires to the surface—even long-lost ones he’d let go of in order to grow up.
Brand was somehow aware he could have followed the Montriver to reach his destination, but it was too likely he’d be spotted and recognized by other Demons coming to drink from its rapids, even so late at night. That it was better to use the shadows to his advantage.
Except, a glow surrounded him, sparkling on grey stone and verdant vines. Brand looked down at his hands as he walked to find himself made entirely of Luna’s prismatic light, and a smile teased the corners of his mouth knowing she was with him even in sleep.
The tall buildings shrank as he moved with himself—less and less stories, fewer and farther between—until he reached the outermost edge of the city proper. Trees rose up to take their place, and he dove in, aiming for the roar of rushing water ahead.
Excited, he left himself behind. His legs were so much longer now, and he didn’t need the guidance. His mind and body knew exactly where to go and what he’d find when he reached the clearing.
Countless stars stood watch overhead as he emerged from the tree line onto a grassy bank, the twin moons looming among them.
The odd thought slipped in that it didn’t matter if they knew his secrets because they could share them only with each other.
A warm comfort. His parents would be livid if they found out what he was doing.
A rocky outcropping came into view, rising from the sandy riverbed and jutting nearly halfway across the Montriver. Beneath it, the water hurtled its way to his Blessing realm, the thundering sound so loud he could barely hear himself think.
Maybe that was the point.
The tension eased away from his shoulders, stress he hadn’t realized was there melting away with every step closer.
The peace blanketing him felt familiar. The sense that, if he just kept walking, he could make his grand escape and no one would be able to find him.
Sometimes the knowledge that he could was enough, even if he never actually did it. Even on the worst days.
A little stone seat came into view. It crowned the outcropping, perched on its furthest tip and facing his eventual home. Though far too small for him now, his limbs remembered exactly how it had felt. Knew that this was his spot. One he’d made for himself.
“I’m still wondering if you’re ever going to make a place for me to sit as well.”
Brand jolted at the deep, but distinctly feminine voice. It husked in all the wrong ways, skittering down his spine in warning as he turned, no idea what he would—
The scene warped and he was staring down at his younger self once more, settled in his river throne.
Infinite droplets landed on his skin and hair, the mist soaking him—a perfect match to the little boy at his feet, with dripping, auburn waves and a ruined tunic, stoically staring into the wild darkness.
“Pardon any offense, madam, but I come here to be alone. Another seat would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t you say?”
Burning Solyrian. The detached tone hit him right in the gut, those very adult words falling from lips far too young to be so proper already—like all the other words he’d been required to say with courtesy and composure while he’d screamed and screamed inside.
The shadows shifted beside the boy, chuckling softly. “You say that every time.”
How could I say that every time if this is the first time?
The thought rang through his mind in his own, adolescent voice as Brand watched himself adjust, lungs clenching in tandem through the outward, awkward silence.
“Forgive me, madam. I do not wish to be rude. I only—”
“I know, Brandir. This was a hard day for you.”
The world spun again and he was sitting in the seat, one with himself. His limbs felt fragile and weak, like twigs and mud and paper, instead of the strong solidity of the body he was used to now.
A hand reached out to grasp his own, the touch gentle even as the taloned, ivory nails terrified him. “We talked about this before, remember? Even His Highness Magnus will have to abandon you eventually. Everybody leaves at some point. It’s not your fault, it’s just the way of the world.”
He absolutely could not remember ever speaking to this creature before, but Brand searched his young mind for the events of the day anyway and—
There.
That’s right. This was the age he would’ve been when Magnus was preparing to make his permanent move to Thodelebor as a young male.
There’d been a feast to celebrate. Mag had beamed at the room, his pride evident as toasts were made and gifts were offered.
Just as Vann had been. Just as Amun had been.
Mag hadn’t seemed saddened by the prospect at all, hadn’t once looked at Brand with any sort of remorse, and it… it had hurt.
“The most important thing to remember is that the ones who leave us almost always forget us in the end. They get on with their lives and fail to recall how much we once meant to them. It’s better for people like you and me if we acknowledge it ahead of time and don’t let them bother us.
Some people aren’t built for love—like your parents and brothers.
They don’t know how persistent it’s supposed to be, how accommodating.
Too wrapped up in themselves. It’s nothing you did, Brandir.
You’re such a good boy, always trying your best. No one understands you.
” Her hand squeezed, thumb running lightly over his knuckles.
“But I do. Perfectly. I promise I’ll never forget you or leave you behind. You’re too important to me.”
The air burned in his lungs, tears gathering in his lashes as he rasped, “Why?”
Within, Brand struggled against his confines, trapped as a child while his adult mind thrashed inside.
She knew everything that had quietly terrified him for decades.
The abandonment. The estrangement. The duties and responsibilities eating all of them alive until it sometimes felt as if his family hardly knew each other anymore.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed your parents starting to pull away from you, readying for the day you leave as well.
They’ll say it hurts, that they wish you didn’t have to go, but you’ll see how the letters come less often, and the visits and invitations to return home start to disappear.
You’ll realize they were excited for you to go, able to enjoy themselves without the burden of children.
That they never really cared as much as they said.
” Her sigh was heavy, laden with sadness.
“Oh, it’s so unfair to you, my perfect boy.
I only wish to give you the love and care you deserve. ”
Brand turned his head to look at her, not comprehending why a perfect stranger would be so generous. How she could see all of his deepest worries and give voice to them so accurately.
Her face was steeped in a lurching fog, features clearing here and there, but never all at once. He caught her ruby smile as she said, “Maybe someday, you’ll find yourself wanting to offer your love in return. I’m going to need help soon, and you’re the only one I can trust. What do you think?”
“Forgive me,” he said, wary and hopeful at once. “This day has been dreadfully long, and I am ever so tired. I can’t seem to recall your name, kind madam. I would know it before I offer my thanks for your friendship.”
Brand nearly gagged on the words of his younger self, so fucking confused that his stomach was sick with it.
On one hand, he wanted to lean into her and clasp onto everything she offered with desperate fingers.
To thank her for honest, straightforward words in a world where everyone hid their true intentions behind twisted phrasing.
Anything, as long as she promised not to leave him too, even though he had no bloody idea who she was.
On the other, he wanted to break free of the flimsy bones holding him down. To rail at this version of himself that she was not offering kindness or friendship. That grown females shouldn’t be talking to children in the midnight woods and asking them for favors.
She laughed outright, bumping her head against his shoulder.
“We really must stop meeting when it’s so late.
You say that every time, as well.” She gave his hand a final squeeze and rose to her full height, quite tall for a female.
“I grow tired myself. This land wasn’t made for one such as me. See you soon?”
He nodded, hardly understanding what he was agreeing to.
“Good.” Dozens of crows descended from the trees to encircle her, their caws loud enough to drown out the rush of the river. “Perhaps then, you’ll remember I’m—”
Brand sat up with a wrenching gasp, trembling and heaving. He did his best to avoid disturbing Luna, untangling himself from the sheets and stumbling from the bed and into the washroom.
One stone glowed above as he filled the sink basin and splashed cold water on his face, scrubbing his hands over both horns and through the short hairs of his beard.
The sight of his towering body in the mirror was a relief, the muscled bulk reminding him that he was no longer anywhere near as weak as he had been as a child. As he’d felt while imprisoned within it once again, unable to escape.
“Just a nightmare,” he whispered to his reflection. “Just a load of imaginary shite.”
Already, it was fading into the recesses of his mind, the details hazing into a dark nothing.
Luna mumbled as she turned over, her words little more than nonsense before she settled again. A flutter in his chest and, even passed out, he felt her soul searching for him through the unrelenting fibers of their newly-sealed bond.
Without warning, Brand bent over the basin and vomited, a cold sweat breaking out as guilt and shame slammed into him with the force of a comet landing.
His beautiful mate was right there, perfection personified. Everything he’d ever wanted. More and better than he ever could have imagined.
So why in the fuck had the name Okthana been on his lips like a prayer when he’d awoken?
By the next morning, even that little detail was forgotten once more, and he didn’t remember that—for a moment—he’d remembered.