43. Sibling Rivalry Is Healthy, Isn’t It?
43
Sibling Rivalry Is Healthy, Isn’t It?
Idris
T he sunlit lake was quiet, with only a few families braving the ice. It had been that way every day since Maelgwyn had attacked the wards of Tir o Gaeaf. Only parents with children to distract bothered to feign joy. Everybody else was eaten up by grief and fear. Those parents were too, I supposed, but they had no choice but to maintain some level of normalcy. What I’d give to be in their shoes.
If he’d lived, Taryn would have been an adult by now, but I couldn’t picture the male he might have become. I might have been unable to give him the millennia of life he deserved, but he was immortalised in my heart and memory, forever two years old. A baby.
His mother had been doting and protective. She would never have allowed him on the ice, and until recently, sliding around with knives attached to my feet had failed to interest even me. Soaring through open skies was one thing, ice was quite another. There was no scenario in which my family would have found themselves risking life and limb on that lake. But Aliza…
As impossible as it was, my mind painted an image of her, her cheeks as pink as her fluffy coat, holding Taryn’s tiny hands. My son beamed and laughed as Aliza pulled him into a glide, much as she had done with me. Aliza would have taken Taryn on the ice, of that I had no doubt. What’s more, I would have trusted her to do so. With her skates on, she was as graceful as she was fearless. He would have been safe with her, which was more than he had been with me.
As I stared at the frozen lake, the ghost and the vision skated amongst living fae, as vivid and as real as any of them.
Taryn would have loved Aliza’s hair. He’d had an eye for all things colourful and unusual. Many a walk had been punctuated with frequent examinations of ladybirds, or interesting rocks, or stray feathers.
What would Aliza have made of my boy? The night I’d found her fleeing Neath on my horse, she’d mentioned not wanting children of her own, and after living through the grief of losing one, I couldn’t blame her. Who would ever choose to risk living as I did? Taryn’s brief life had brought unrivalled joy, but the agony of his loss was beyond measure, with no end in sight. Even now, I wasn’t always convinced I could endure it.
Whatever she wanted for herself, I couldn’t believe Aliza would have been anything but wonderful with Taryn. Her compassion for all creatures made her special. Better than most. She might never become a mother, but she made a wonderful friend. She and Taryn might have been friends.
My chest threatened to buckle under the pressure. Too much pain, too much longing, all crushing my ribs as they vied for space around my heart.
Crunching footsteps announced Anwir’s arrival. He sank down on the far end of my bench, maintaining the careful distance he’d kept since Tir o Gwanwyn, when I suspected he’d revealed too much of whatever love he might have for me, his only sibling. His groaning sigh had my vision drifting away like the cloud of my breath.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” I admitted, reluctant to engage in life beyond the impossible fairytales in my mind.
He’d teleported the witch back to Nairsgarth yesterday, and I’d expected him to stay with her. The thought of him being closer to Aliza than I could be had made my stomach churn with jealousy. Not that he would try anything—after my threat, he knew better—but I wanted to be with her, and it seemed distinctly unfair that Anwir would be in the same castle as her while I was stuck here, freezing my arse off and wishing I hadn’t tried to do the right thing.
Wrong .
I fought back my snarl at that irritating little voice, whispering inside my head. I didn’t need its gloating reminders. The problem was, the right thing for Aliza was too often the wrong thing for me. Helping her return home, for instance. Not that my noble intentions had been strong enough to fight against my selfish desires in the end, and thank the mother for that. If I hadn’t gone back to Fairy Glen to confess, she’d be as dead as Taryn. Beyond saving. As for my recent attempts to set her free, to let her grow into the queen she was destined to be…
Wrong .
“I thought I’d pay my miserable twin a visit, in the hope of putting an end to… this .” The nonchalant sweep of Anwir’s hand, encompassing my entire being, came with a sneer of distaste. “It’s becoming tedious for everyone.”
I ignored the jibe. There was precisely one person’s opinion that mattered to me, and I’d sullied it beyond recognition. I didn’t care who else found me tedious. I found me tedious .
“Sage visited with Aliza yesterday afternoon. She reports that our little queen is recovering well from her jaunt in the human world.”
My senses sharpened, narrowing to my brother at the mere mention of Aliza’s name. “She’s alright?”
Anwir’s eyes, the mirror image of my own, flickered appraisingly over my face. I probably looked too eager, too ruffled, but I didn’t care about that either.
“She ate a substantial meal, before taking part in a training session. The mage appears to think Aliza made some progress in self-control. Proof that there is still room in this world for miracles.”
My lips pulled back from my teeth as a low snarl rumbled in the back of my throat. Anwir laughed, holding up his hands in surrender.
“Goading you has become far too easy, Idris. You don’t need to protect her from every truth.”
“You wouldn’t know truth if it flayed you alive,” I snarled.
I was hardly one to speak. I’d lied to everyone for centuries, just as much as Anwir had. He was a grasping idiot and I was a selfish coward. A fine pair. Perhaps it was lucky our mother couldn’t see what we’d grown into. What would she make of Aliza? I could only hope that I’d one day have the opportunity to find out.
“Here’s a bit of truth for you. She didn’t outright decline your invitation to the ball.”
My lungs seized, refusing to draw another breath. It was pathetic, the way hope flooded my veins. Didn’t outright decline? Had I sunk so deeply into despair that I considered such a statement good news? I’d tried to accept that she wouldn’t come. Tried to convince myself that she’d torn up the invitation, or set it alight, or tossed it out of the window. I’d forced myself to imagine my carefully chosen rose wilting in a wastepaper basket. To imagine her scoffing at my note, at my declaration. She’d never admitted to loving me back, after all. She’d outright told me that she didn’t. But none of these cruel images had been enough to completely extinguish my fragile ember of hope. Hope that she would attend. That she would forgive my stupidity. That things could go back to how they’d been before I’d opened my ridiculous mouth.
“She’s coming?” I breathed.
“I didn’t say that.” Anwir rose to his feet, raising his hand as though to clap me on the shoulder. He hesitated, dropping it to his side without ever making contact. “I must admit, I’m curious as to what went wrong. Her obsession with you was a thorn in my side, and yet, she almost killed herself in her attempt to put distance between you. Whatever you did to fuck up this time, it must have been monumental. I could command you to tell me, you know?”
The implication snuffed out my temporary good mood. There had been a time when I would have laughed at such a statement before turning my back and doing whatever the fuck I wanted, my prerogative as the spare prince. These days, my disdain had frayed to tatters. Anwir had overstepped far too many boundaries for my liking. If not for his lies and plots, Aliza might never have run away from Neath at all. At least not the first time. She wouldn’t have been captured and burnt. She wouldn’t be trapped in a body and a world she had never wanted.
“What makes you think I bow to your commands, prince?” I stood too, a perfect match for Anwir’s height. Magic crackled under my skin, its glow less obvious in the glaring winter sun, but visible to those who might bother to look. I didn’t want a crown, but if Aliza did, if she wanted me , I would challenge my brother. I would undo my deceit. I didn’t care which of the skating families might glance our way and see lightning threading through me. They would all know the truth soon enough.
Anwir’s magic rose to answer mine. Its biting chill was almost indiscernible on the already frigid air, but we’d tussled enough as boys that I recognised the shimmering haze of water vapour clinging to his silhouette, freezing in the frigid air. Anwir’s magic wasn’t ice in the true sense, but here in the land of eternal winter, that was how the fine mist manifested. Magic he hadn’t bothered to use to restore the palace. He’d left that to fae he considered inferior, too afraid to show the world who he really was by revealing his power. Too afraid to lose his grip on his subordinates.
I scoffed, my own rather less magical plume of ice blowing from my nose. “Careful, little brother. It’s not time to reveal your hand just yet.”
His face paled as he hissed, “I am your king .”
My eyes slid down to his boots. Snow clung to the supple, polished leather, the only imperfection in his attire. Everything else from his breeches to his leather gloves, from the elegantly tailored high-collared coat to the finely woven cloak draped over his shoulders, spoke of royalty. Of riches and power. The clothing of a king.
A costume.
My clothes were the same ones I’d worn for the battle of Tir o Gaeaf. Most of the blood stains had washed out. Everything else had been destroyed by Aliza’s flames as they tore through the palace, and I hadn’t had the time or will in between rebuilding efforts to replace my wardrobe yet. Anwir had made it a priority, apparently .
When I lifted my eyes to his, he’d gone whiter still.
“Are you?”
His sharp intake of breath followed me as I waded through the snow. I had a ball to prepare for.