Chapter 4
“Lord Gabriel Laurent has arrived from Antoris, as commanded. He awaits an audience with Your Holiness.”
Andrian’s ears rang with the herald’s announcement. Dread pooled through his veins.
“Ah, right on schedule then. It’s good to see the young heir values punctuality.” Kol smiled smoothly and turned to the other lords, who watched on with thinly masked nervousness. “You all may go. My son will stay.”
The way Kol said son made Andrian’s stomach twist, icy disgust freezing his veins.
The lords turned to leave like obedient dogs.
But one of them—the youngest, Lord Campion—paused for a moment, glancing briefly at Andrian.
He’d only been a lord for a few months. Elevated to his seat after Mariah lost her temper at her first formal meeting with the Royals, stopping his elderly father’s heart with a blast of her magic.
There was something about that memory and the way Campion watched him. Andrian couldn’t help himself. He ignored the faint pounding in his skull, and a slow, feral grin spread across his face. Campion paled, eyes flashing with something akin to panic.
The Campion’s had never been a magically gifted family.
So, when Andrian forced a few of his shredded, cowering shadows free—a silent, subtle taunt at the lord who’d already seen what his queen was capable of—he did so with a soft chuckle, one that chased the young lord from the hall, nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed to catch up with the others.
Andrian’s amusement died, though, when someone stepped into his field of vision. Kol drowned his chuckle, swallowing that moment of reprieve. This time, all the god’s manic rage was gone, replaced almost by gleeful pride.
Andrian’s stomach turned again, his shadows retreating beneath his skin. He slowly stood from his chair, flexing his wrists and rolling his shoulders. Ksee still stood on the raised platform, lip lifted in a sneer.
“You may go as well, High Priestess,” Kol commanded softly, not bothering to turn to address her. She stiffened, then lifted her chin with a sniff before gathering her robes in her hands and gliding from the great hall.
Kol’s gaze drifted to Andrian’s chest. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone—he’d never bothered with them, anyway—and the god’s lip curled back with a sneer. Shadows peeled from his arms, twisting through the air like snakes.
Andrian tried and failed to mask his flinch when they met his skin.
“How shameful that she brands you like cattle,” he said.
His shadows tugged the collar of Andrian’s shirt, revealing more of the scarred dragon-shaped Mark inked on his chest. “Though I suppose it is all Priam. What a meddlesome, pathetic excuse for a god.” Kol flicked his wrist, and the shadows vanished.
“Seems fitting, though. Maybe you are nothing more than the moon bitch’s property.”
A growl, low and menacing, slipped past Andrian’s throat. His body tightened, the edges of his restraint fraying as he almost launched himself at the dark god.
But what good would that do? He’d chosen this fate. He deserved this fate.
Besides, Kol was right. Andrian belonged to Mariah, marked for life. Even though he could never see her again, it was still something he would never change.
He slowly unclenched his hands, pushing a deep exhale past his teeth. He refused to meet Kol’s gaze, instead focusing on the wall over the god’s shoulder.
It was the only bit of rebellion he could muster.
Kol smiled, amused and unbothered, and turned to the herald waiting patiently at the door. “Please bring in our guest.”
The young boy nodded and darted away. A few seconds passed before footsteps rang in the hall toward the open double doors.
Andrian’s heart twisted and shuddered in his chest as a young man strode into the great hall.
Shining golden hair, brushed away from his face in perfect smooth waves. A strong jaw and straight nose, skin pale with an undertone of gold. Instead of the golden-brown eyes of his father, this man carried traces of their mother. Not quite Andrian’s rich purple blue, but a soft pale gray.
Gabriel Laurent. Andrian’s younger brother and heir to the lordship over the northern keep of Antoris.
He was also a man. Shock slapped Andrian across the face at the realization that his baby brother had grown up, leaving the shy little boy of his memories behind.
That same shock was echoed in Gabriel’s expression when his wandering eyes found Andrian. He halted in his tracks, boots scuffing across the polished marble.
“Andrian?” Disbelief coated Gabriel’s voice—a man’s voice, not the boyish one Andrian remembered. “What are you doing here?”
“He is my guest! And it’s nice to meet you, Gabriel Laurent.” Kol’s smooth voice wound around Andrian like a serpent. The god sidled up beside Andrian, hands sliding smoothly into his pockets.
Gabriel’s shocked gaze grew wider, bouncing between Andrian and Kol, catching and noting all their similarities.
Under any other scenario, it might’ve been comical.
Now it only tugged harder on Andrian’s hate and rage.
Gabriel pulled together his composure, relying on his years of political training to do so.
Had Gabriel suffered the same cold indifference from their father as Andrian? Had he felt the same desperate desire to please a father who would never be satisfied?
Somehow, Andrian doubted it.
“The honor is all mine, Your Eminence,” Gabriel said smoothly, bowing deeply at the waist. “I’ve heard a great many tales of you and your promises to Onita from my father. The moment I received your call, I knew I could not refuse.”
Something prickled in Andrian’s gut at the too-practiced greeting.
He narrowed his eyes, assessing his brother in a new light.
The last he’d seen Gabriel, his brother had been no more than six, a bit of a spoiled child that their father had brought to court for the same reason he’d brought Andrian at that age.
A prize to be paraded about. A trophy to display before the rest of the court, a political chess piece to wield on their boards in petty quests for power.
Not for the first time, Andrian wondered what sort of man Julian Laurent had raised Gabriel to be.
Would his little brother be a potential ally, or a threat?
Kol chuckled. “Such perfect words. You are clearly the pride of the Laurent family, and for good reason.” Andrian felt Kol’s sharp, stinging glance against his cheek. He tightened his jaw, grinding his teeth, but refused to turn.
Nerves slipped past Gabriel’s facade. “I had a strong role-model in my older brother. I’d say our family was blessed for many reasons.”
“Hm.” Kol took a step toward Gabriel. “Yes, certainly a blessed family. Even though your father has ended up being such a disappointment.”
Gabriel stilled, a muscle feathering in his jaw. He glanced again at Andrian—a seeking, questioning look—before returning his attention to Kol.
So, he didn’t know that their father currently resided in the cells beneath their feet. Interesting.
Andrian’s brother opened his mouth, but—
“It is no matter,” Kol said. “Now that you have joined us, I think the Laurent name will soon be fully redeemed.” His red-gold eyes flashed, shadows leaking from his shoulders.
A subtle threat. “I do hope that you will not be a similar disappointment as your father. Especially with your mother’s bloodline, far more loyal than any that exists here in Onita. ”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean—”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my brother,” Andrian interrupted, silencing Gabriel.
Kol turned, an eyebrow lifted. “Perhaps we could have a few minutes alone to get reacquainted?” He didn’t know where the words came from or why he thought they were worth Kol’s wrath, but an instinct had surged, along with the return of his dull, thudding headache.
Despite his mother’s betrayal, Andrian would always feel the need to protect her.
Now, that instinct extended to her second son.
Still, he cringed internally. Of all the questions to ask…
Kol surprised him with a slow smile. “Of course! Family is so important, after all.” That grin turned sharp and Andrian tensed. “I will leave you two to reminisce. Gabriel, a priestess will be by shortly to show you to your rooms. I expect you to join us at court tomorrow.”
Gabriel dipped his head. “Yes, Your Eminence. Whatever you command.”
Kol nodded one more time, locking his burning red-gold eyes on Andrian with a look laced with dark plans and promises.
This wasn’t a gift; far from it. Kol wanted Andrian to have this time with his brother—to get to know him again.
Why?
The two brothers were silent as Kol strode from the hall. They still did not speak until the god’s footsteps faded from earshot, and even then, they waited.
After what felt like a suspended age, Gabriel’s shoulders sagged, the hard lines of his face falling. It was like he became ten years younger, shedding the weight of his lordship and status before Andrian’s eyes.
When he looked up, Andrian was shocked by the tears lining his brother’s blue-gray eyes.
“It’s so good to see you, brother.” Gabriel lurched forward, throwing his arms around Andrian.
Andrian stood rigid as his little brother embraced him. Shock and confusion rippled through him like waves through water. Kol’s lingering look, and the darkness it held, still glimmered in his mind's-eye.
But this was his brother. The only other person alive who shared their mother’s blood. So, despite his lingering dread, his tense hesitation, Andrian lifted his arms, wrapping them around his brother’s frame.
Gabriel was tall—nearly as tall as Andrian. He had filled out, too. His father had always been insistent about his sons knowing how to fight, how to succeed at all things; it came as no surprise that he would have Gabriel trained, as well.
Despite Gabriel’s adult body, at that moment he was every bit Andrian’s little brother.