Chapter 53
“No, no, no, no, no!”
Brand jolted, life flooding into him as the vision of Luna’s broken body faded into the dark edges of his mind along with her imagined screams.
He wasn’t actually dead. The fierce pounding of his heart told him that much, at least, though a part of him wished he was.
His head was a leaden vessel full of jagged rocks, body throbbing like it had been thrown against the coast amidst crashing waves. And fucking shite, the taste in his mouth—made worse by the choking dryness of his throat and tongue. He couldn’t even swallow properly.
Sisters, let the whole thing be a horrific nightmare. Let him turn over to find his mate beside him and the Horned City whole.
Eyes gritty, he lifted his hands to—
No.
For one hopeful, terrible second, Brand tried to convince himself he was still asleep—that there weren’t really chains holding him down—but they tightened, digging into his flesh and glowing a faint, fiery orange.
Shadow and bone combined, the links writhed around him, and nausea churned at the sight, the feel.
Not a vision. Not a nightmare. It had been real. All of it had been real.
Luna’s tortured wails a moment ago took on a whole new meaning.
“No.” His voice was nothing more than a wheeze.
The shadows. The snap of her spine. Her blood on the floor.
“No!”
He had to get back. Had to get these off and figure out where he was and get the fuck back to her.
Stone. There was stone beneath him. He called on his power, hoping to wedge some of the rock between himself and the restraints to break them.
Nothing happened.
Taking a deep breath, he sent out his power once more.
Nothing.
He could feel it there, under the surface of his skin.
The weakness of it. He should’ve been raging his way across Bordoroth at the mere possibility of her being hurt somewhere.
Instead, his greater half felt subdued—drugged almost—as if nothing in all the realms could possibly rile him into appearing.
A bead of sweat trickled along his temple and into his hair as he tried again.
And again.
And again.
All to no avail.
Chest squeezing, he bellowed out as he thrashed. The chains only clamped down in response, slicing clean through his skin and hitting bone in some places. His curses echoed strangely in the confined space while his body struggled, gritting his teeth against the pain.
The only thing keeping him somewhat sane was the knowledge that she was still with him. He could feel her there, pulsating, the faintest beating of her heart alongside his own.
“She’s alive. She’s alive.” He chanted the words over and over, fuel as he strained and pulled and yanked and screamed.
“I’m so sorry, Brandir. That’s really not going to work.”
Brand snapped his head towards the voice, only just realizing it was pitch black around him beyond the glow of his restraints.
The voice from the tower, less overwhelming without its layers. From somewhere else, too. Somewhere muddled and dark. Familiar in ways that confused his mind and body.
He steeled himself against the sickening thud of his heart, even as something within him felt… comforted?
No. No, no, no. Not right. That was his captor. The one who’d harmed his beloved mate.
His eyes strained as they attempted to pierce the gloom, to mark the face of the creature who’d wreaked such devastating havoc. To see the one he was going to destroy.
“Show yourself!”
A long, sad sigh was the only response.
Sharp anger rose to the fore. He fucking hated games. Hated feeling like he was being played with. If he was to go into battle with someone, he wanted to do it while looking straight into their beady fucking eyes.
A silhouette appeared among the fuzzy outer reaches of the chains’ light.
“Where is Luna?”
He was practically begging her to tell him this was all a misunderstanding. That she hadn’t really shattered his mate’s body and left her for dead.
She finally stepped close enough that he could make out details.
Beneath a crown of iron and ivory spikes, raven hair fell thick and shining all the way to her knees.
Skin paler and more porcelain than any he’d ever seen peeked out here and there from her onyx gown.
The fabric was gauzy and transparent, her slim body exposed through the useless garment.
“She doesn’t matter anymore.”
He jerked his gaze away from her gaunt nudity and beheld her face.
She had to be closer to his mother’s age, and strikingly beautiful—but there was a latent savagery in her that unnerved him, regardless of the apologetic furrow between her brows.
Kohl lined her lashes, highlighting irises so blue they were almost white, seeming to glow.
Her red, red mouth was turned down in a frown, the look tugging at the back of his mind.
That blue… That expression…
Eyes locked, something cosmic settled within the furthest reaches of him. Before him stood the creature responsible for Straelon’s woes—an answer to the Prophecy’s riddles if Luna’s voice proved true—and he knew her, even as he didn’t.
“What does that mean? What do you want with us? With me? Why?” His mind was working too fast for his mouth, every question inspiring another, including one born of loathsome curiosity he couldn’t resist. “Who the fuck are you?”
Her head tilted, remorse replaced with something less sure. “You say that every time.” She searched the floor, completely unaware of the panic tearing through him. “Though not quite so aggressively. I’d always thought it the adorable antics of a youngling, but you… truly don’t remember me.”
Brand tried to tame his rapid breaths. To keep her from knowing how deeply this travesty of a conversation was affecting him.
Her eyes snapped back to his, a brutal sort of disappointment in the look. “All those years…” she whispered. “I’d thought we were building something untouchable. Unshakeable. I watched and guided and waited, and you don’t even know who I am.”
She seemed genuinely shocked, which only rattled Brand further.
“Why should I? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
The words almost didn’t come, part of him knowing them for the lie they were. But why? Why did it feel like he was betraying her somehow?
The thought sickened him. Twisted him up in ways he couldn’t untangle.
Luna. Luna was the only thing that mattered.
“We’ll have to remedy your poor memory, my darling boy. I hadn’t accounted for it, but no matter—I’ve waited this long.” She waved a dismissive hand, as if it made all the sense in the world and didn’t bear stating.
“What the bloody fuck do you mean?” he growled, alarm sending goosebumps racing over his flesh. “Waited for what?”
He fucking hated how intensely he wanted to know. That there was a spark of something other than absolute rage at the possibility of having some answers.
“Oh, Brandir.” She sidled up to him, cupping his jaw in her frigid hand. “It’s time for you to help me, my love.”
That last word shoved the sight of Luna—bleeding, crying, mouthing such precious words in her pain—to the forefront, raw fury with it.
Brand tried to wrench himself away, but she only gripped harder. “There’s only one creature in this world with the right to call me that,” he hissed, “and it isn’t you. Get your fucking hand off me.”
Her eyes went wide as she jerked away, a sneer working its way up from her lips to distort her pert nose.
“Forget about the Sorcerit. I allowed you the gift of bonding with her so you might reach your full power, but she’s no good to you anymore.
Be grateful I rid you of the distraction, and was kind about it. ”
Brand was almost too appalled, too bewildered, to speak. “Kind? You fucking mutilated her, you fucking bitch.”
Without warning, her clawed hand shot out again and snagged his throat as she bent close, her nose only inches from his own. “You were supposed to be different from the others. I made sure you were different!” The last was shrieked, spittle flying from her mouth to land on his face.
Wrapped in her burning, floral scent, Brand lay there dumbfounded as the air heaved in and out of her lungs. He hadn’t a single inkling of what she meant, and he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around that last bit.
He didn’t bloody care. He just wanted his mate. His home.
She pushed herself upright, calm once more.
“I should’ve grabbed you in that cursed field when I had the chance.
Even though you were lying in the blood of my beloveds, I still forgave you.
Still loved you, my perfect boy. I didn’t realize you’d already been broken, needed fixing, else I’d have never let you go that night. ”
With a wave of her hand, torches embedded in the walls sprang to life, lighting his prison with a fiery glow.
Burning fucking Solyrian, he knew this place. Knew exactly where—
“Brand!”
No.
He scrambled to twist his body, dread searing through him while he prayed to any being who would listen that he hadn’t actually just heard that husking voice here.
“Where are you? Please!”
He couldn’t see a damned thing, but he could hear her clear as day—ragged, pained, begging.
“No, no, no!” His muscles bunched and strained, the chains carving into his bones as he thrashed, but he didn’t feel it.
His little moon was here somewhere, needed him, and he was fucking useless.
“Shh, Luna,” Brand crooned, trying to soothe her, wherever she was. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ll find you.”
He didn’t see his captor’s flying hand—only knew he’d been struck when agony splintered across his face as she shattered his cheekbone.
The pain was nothing compared to Luna’s tortured wails in answer.
“If you can forget me so easily, then you should have no trouble forgetting the fickle tart who left you like all the others,” the bitch hissed, her voice like glass crunching beneath his boots. “You should be thanking me for doing you the favor of removing her, before she could taint you further.”