He had considered her father a friend and was glad to call the daughter one too.
Closing his eyes, Brokk tipped his head back and welcomed the warmth of the sun beating down on him. Ever since he learned of his father’s death, a chill had seeped into his bones that he couldn’t quite eradicate.
The chill was more than grief; he hated to admit it, but it was also fear—fear of the unknown, for his brother, and all of them.
The Lord was crazier than they’d all believed. There wasn’t anything that monster wouldn’t do. Which meant all bets were off. Before, there were at least some rules and boundaries.
They were obliterated when the Lord killed the king of the dark fae.
Brokk’s eyes burned as he strove to suppress his sorrow. It was nearly impossible as he recalled the coolness of his father’s fingers brushing the hair back from his forehead before he pulled the covers around him. Once tucked in, his dad would pitch his voice low to regale him with whatever new story he made up.
The stories often consisted of pirates and dragons needing to be slain. The adventures made Brokk giggle. Sometimes, his mother came to visit him, but she was content to live mostly child-free.
Brokk was fine with that. They got along well enough when he saw her, but his father was his rock, and though the king was feared by many, he doted on his sons.
And he also had his brothers. Even without the constant presence of his mother in his life, Brokk felt surrounded by love growing up. Yes, there was a big age difference between him and some of his brothers, but there was always love there.
And now, almost all the love he experienced as a child was gone.
Varo and Orin still lived, but if they did defeat the Lord and somehow regain control of their lives, he wasn’t sure he could forgive them for their role in his father’s death—or Cole’s, if his brother didn’t survive the trials. He was there because of his brothers.
And if something happened to Lexi under his watch, he’d never forgive himself either. While Lexi remained alive, Cole wouldn’t become the cruel, vicious monstrosity Brokk sensed slithering beneath the surface.
If something happened to her, he suspected Cole would become as much of a menace to the realms as the Lord. He’d killed a dragon for their father; what would he do for her?
A roar in the distance drew his attention to the sky. A dragon soared above, tilted its wings, and swooped back toward the smoldering remains of the city in the distance. The dragons only did as the Lord commanded them, but still, he loathed all of them.
Stepping away from the tree, he was about to resume his hunt when the jingle of bits and the stomp of hooves stopped him. He took a step forward as riders approached the manor. The rider at the end flew the Lord’s colors.
“Shit,” he hissed and teleported behind the house.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cole didn’t knowhow much time passed before he woke. At first, it was an effort to open his eyes, but his grogginess vanished when he recalled where he was. He pushed himself up against the cool stone and winced when the rocks abraded his regenerating skin.
He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep; he was lucky to wake again. There were countless horrors in this place—and competitors who would gladly kill him while he slept.
But then, it had been days and possibly weeks since the last time he slept. It was only a matter of time before exhaustion took over, and with as battered as he’d been, his body required the healing comfort of sleep.
Lifting his hands, he inspected the sand cleaving to the fresh, tender flesh forming over his muscles. It was as soft as a newborn’s and every bit as sensitive when he prodded at it.
His nerve endings were also healing, and they were not happy about it, but then, neither was he. Every move he made caused pins and needles to stab those endings. And once they stabbed, they also twisted and ground around in there for a while.
Despite the fiery agony working its way over his body, he had to figure out how to defeat this trial, if itwasa trial. Sleep had helped him heal, but it did nothing to ease his ravenous thirst.
He was about to crawl out of his shelter when the padding sound of footsteps caught his attention. The steps drew nearer until Auberon appeared. The young dark fae ran for the water.
Cole almost shouted a warning to the kid but stopped himself. If he warned Auberon away from the water now, he would have to kill him in the end. No matter what, there could only be one survivor. As determined as he was to win, Cole wasn’t eager to take the life of the young fae.
Besides, he wasn’t positive there was something wrong with the water. He might learnhewas the fool and he could have consumed it.
Kneeling at the side of the lake, Auberon held his hands out, and Cole winced. From the tips of his fingers to his wrist, only bone remained on the one hand, and the other was bone to his elbow.
The kid was strong enough to have made it this far—which was a lot farther than Cole assumed he would—but the desert wasn’t kind to him. When Auberon turned his head left and right to take in his surroundings, he revealed that half his face was gone and only bone remained. Somehow, the eye on that side was still in place, but it bulged disconcertingly from its socket.
From his position inside his shelter, Cole didn’t think Auberon could see him, but he suspected he could walk out in the open, and the panicked, brutalized kid still wouldn’t see him. His father never should have volunteered Auberon for this; Cole would make him pay for it when he returned to the Gloaming.
Auberon cupped his skeletal fingers and dipped them into the lake. Cole’s teeth ground back and forth as the young man consumed the lake with the enthusiasm of a dog. Water spilled down his fingers and forearms to splatter on the ground. It must have been taking too long as he gave up drinking from his hands and plunged his face into the lake.
