“Shut up, dumbass!” Indra’s bright green curls sway as she leans up to hiss in Zuzana’s ear. “You can’t say that! What if they don’t actually leave!”
Vana just grins and meets Daromir’s eyes. “Trust me, we’re leaving. Daro, could you start packing? I have a letter to write.”
?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Vana
Dawn hasn’t yet crept over the horizon when Vana and Daromir make their way across the mountainous castle. They don’t want to make a commotion, but being seen is all right. Imrik likely already knows his Hound failed, though Vana tried to keep Daromir out of sight as long as possible. By the time Imrik returns from his wyrm hunt to act on the information, Vana and Daromir will be long gone.
Daromir may not have any loose ends in Ostomar, but Vana does. In a happy coincidence, his loose ends happen to include his best idea for an escape route.
Marek is rubbing his eyes when he opens the door for them. From his state of dress—barefoot, his shirt half unlaced—Vana can’t tell whether Marek just woke up or hasn’t gotten to bed yet.
“So, my adjutant wasn’t lying about you coming up,” Marek says. “So happy to see you, and what thefuckare you doing here?”
Vana smiles as Daromir sets their bags next to Marek’s bar. “What, can’t I spend time with my family?”
“Not at this disgusting hour. Do you always get up this early?” Marek’s glare is brief, his anger in jest. His expression quickly turns sly, and he nudges Vana’s shoulder. “Getting cold feet about the wedding?”
“You could say that,” Daromir answers cheerfully on Vana’s behalf.
Marek shakes his head. “I don’t blame you. I would lose my shit if Father dumped a surprise betrothal on me. You’re so diplomatic, though. I’m sure you can handle this.”
Vana glances at Daromir, who turns away to fuss with their bags before he starts laughing. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Vana says. “I was just surprised.”
He doesn’t knowexactlywhat will happen with the scalestone treaty after he vanishes. But Imrik has a second son with Dire magic. A substitution would be the most elegant solution.
Vana doesn’t intend to mention that to Marek until he’s long gone.
“I don’t blame you,” Marek says again. He stretches his arms behind his back, then pads barefoot towards his bar. “It’s a little early to drown your sorrows, but let nobody say I don’t support my favorite brother.”
“Iheardthat,” says a peevish voice from the doorway.
Vana and Marek both turn to see Kazia’s arrival, escorted by an exhausted-looking drasgard in lavender. Daromir, ever alert, is the only one who doesn’t seem surprised.
Marek recovers quickly. “Are you saying you don’t pick favorites?”
“Of course I don’t.” Kazia gestures for his drasgard to leave the room. The door closes behind him. He looks more awake than Marek, but crankier than ever. “I pick least favorites instead, and Vana is my second least favorite.”
“I’m flattered,” Vana says drily. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”
Kazia ruffles his hair behind his ear and moves to steal some of the food left out on Marek’s table. Whether it’s an early breakfast or late-night snack is unclear. “I had nothing better to do, and I didn’t want you two bastards scheming without me.”
“We’re not scheming.” Marek frowns. “Tell me we’re not scheming, Vana. It’s too early for scheming.”
Vana tries not to smile—it would alarm Kazia too much.
A wistful regret tugs at Vana’s heart. Maybe in a different place, in a different family, Vana could have been close to his adopted brothers. Maybe he still could. The world is a wide and changing place, far different from the world in which Vana was first sent to Draskora. Silaise is training dragonriders. Draskora is selling scalestone.
Maybe someday. But first, Vana has to go far away with the man he loves most in the world. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.
“No scheming,” Vana says. “I just wanted another game of aerie before Marek leaves for the north again.”
The excuse is thin, but nobody calls him on it. Either out of kindness, sleep deprivation, or the desire to see what Vana is actually planning. Marek just covers a yawn and asks, “Doubles or quads? Please say quads.”
“Let’s play quads,” Daromir says, squeezing Vana’s shoulder.
