“You are a far better friend than I deserve,” I said, taking a sip. “And I am the ungrateful ass who has always put himself first.”
“Name once,” he challenged.
Guilt gnawed at my conscience. “When I placed you in that damned chamber after Calia’s attack. It was never about her being taken, but rather my jealousy that you had tasted her blood when I had not. Gods, I had been blind with rage when I saw your bite mar her skin.” I downed the remainder of my drink, hating the guilt which accompanied his gaze. “I suppose I inherited that spiteful nature from my mother.”
He looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. “I was furious at first. I spent those first few days cursing your name, pounding against the steel to express my contempt at being locked away. And then seeing the two of you together…” He paused, tapping the rim. “It had nothing to do with me wanting her—she’s a beautiful woman, but that’s where my attraction ends—but more so because I felt a shift in our relationship. I knew then that you would choose her over me every single time. It didn’t matter how many years we had spent at each other’s side or how tightly our bond was wound—what I felt went beyond anger and jealousy. It was akin to betrayal, feasting on my soul until all I was left with was this unending agony I had no way to quell.”
I eyed him carefully, allowing him this time to speak his truth, no matter how hard it was for me to hear. This moment was no longer about how I felt, but rather acknowledging the heinous actions I had brought against my brother and the resentful emotions I had plagued him with. “What changed?”
He met my gaze, resilient and understanding. “You did. Loving Calia was the first and only selfish thing you have allowedyourself. Your fear for her life forced your hand, and you acted out of instinct. If our roles had been reversed, neither bond nor gods could have prevented me from making the same decision you had.”
I quirked my brow. “You would throw me in the chamber?”
He cracked a smile, dissolving the hint of tension between us. “In a heartbeat.”
“Should we go down now? Would that squash any lingering resentment you may be harboring?”
“Eh, let’s let bygones be bygones,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, evening the score would hardly rekindle our brotherly affection.”
Relief washed over me like the softest wave. It met me in greeting, running over my skin to wash away the guilt I harbored. I had not even realized the toll that had taken on me; I was too focused on Calia to think of much else.
I topped off our glasses, holding mine up toward Jasper. “To brothers?”
“Brothers,” he agreed, clinking his tumbler with my own.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Ballard’s a dick,” Sloane said, dropping into a vacant seat at the breakfast nook. She tucked one foot beneath her before reaching a hand toward a towering plate of bacon Rowena had set on the table, which my sister quickly swatted away.
Rowena had loved to cook since she was a child. If she ever went missing in the manor, the kitchen was always the first place I looked. I usually found her elbow deep in some type of dough, her cheeks and nose littered with white flour, or studying various spices and asking the cook what each one did to the food. They never seemed agitated at her near-constant stream of questions. Instead, they smiled politely and indulged every curiosity.
“Oh, come on!” Sloane cried.
Rowena turned her back, picking up the large bowl of fried potatoes next. “Patience really isn’t your virtue, is it?” she asked, smiling.
“We’ve been waiting for you to grace us with your presence,” Jasper said, sipping his black coffee. “You can wait a minute or two to stuff your face.”
Sloane’s only response was a vulgar gesture in his face before she stole his mug and sat back in her seat.
“Good thing I prepared for that,” he muttered, pulling a second cup toward him. “Once a thief, always a thief.”
She raised a brow. “So, you want to talk about thievery? In front of everyone? That’s bold.”
I rolled my eyes, glancing toward Rowena as she sat beside me. She placed her chin on her fist, watching Sloane and Jasper bicker with glittering amusement as they began eating, arguing about a previous venture related to a barrel of wine, a menagerie, and a ringleader.
I stopped listening after Sloane began making a thrusting movement with her fist, which had Jasper spewing out a mouthful of eggs and howling with laughter.
Despite my inherent disposition toward constant irritation, it dwindled considerably as I stared at each person sitting at my table. Their eyes were alight, and cheeks flushed as they fought for breath. Even Rowena had a small tear leaking from the corner of her eye that she did not wipe away.
There was no sorrow or threat beyond these walls, no unknown chaos waiting in the wings to steal our joy. No, there was only companionship and laughter as four unlikely allies formed bonds beyond what our society deemed acceptable.
Even the dark cloud of doom that usually hung over my head could not stop my lips from turning upward into a smile. The room turned silent as Jasper and Sloane stopped mid-laugh, their mouths agape.
“Holy gods,” she breathed, staring at me incredulously before jabbing Jasper. “Hecansmile!”
“Shh,” Jasper said, eyes growing wide. “You might spook him.”
Though he jested, I sat back in my seat and drew my lips in a tight line before crossing my arms. “The moment you two opened your mouths, I regretted every nice thought I had.”
