"You're asking for a free place to live,andmoney?" Asks Rexxan, cocking an eyebrow.
Gods, he's marvellous. Veins snake up his thick forearms, his giant hands worn and rugged—back on track, Renna. Back on track."Not a free place to live, but to be able to sleep in your forest without the threat of your guards killing us."
He holds out his hand and I frown. He wants me to hold his hand? Maybe he is tempted by me after all. It’s unexpected, but I go to do it anyway.
"Your notes," he states, but there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.I hate my life and everything in it. I whisper a prayer to the god Xal to zap me with lightning, but he doesn't deliver.
I pick up my page of notes, stuffing it into his oversized hand and trying not to crawl under the table and just fucking die. Graciously, he doesn't tease me anymore, he just reads in silence, one ringed index finger stroking his bottom lip.
"We can come to an agreement, I'm sure. I'll have Ascan put a talk in my diary tomorrow."
"Who is Ascan?"
"My Head of Staff."
"So he's an assistant to you?" I ask, making conversation.
He scrapes his chair back and stands, tucking both mine and his paperwork under his arm. "If you wish to discuss the roles of my staff, Commander, I'm sure they'd be more than willing to speak with you."
"Fucking rude," I mutter, itching my eyebrow with my middle finger.
As ever, no reaction, just a curt nod by way of goodbye and he is out the door, ducking slightly to fit his frame beneath the arches. He hasn't punished me for the arrow stunt, only Onyx, and I see why now. I'd sooner be fainting from exhaustion in the King's training courtyard than having to watch my brother go through it.
Rexxan the Ruthless. The nickname is beginning to add up.
* * *
I wakeup the next morning in my room in the palace, and instantly I know something is off. A familiar hum whirrs throughout my body, my fingertips warm, and it's not because I'm seeing the King again.
It's worse.
On cue, Onyx knocks, coming in with a brown bag in his hand.
"Bloody hell, O, it's the middle of the night!" I whisper-shout, squinting at him in the dim light of the guest room.
"It's five in the morning."
“I said what I said.”
He comes over, examining my face as Stellan stirs in bed beside me. "Your eyes are glowing slightly. It's time."
My stomach drops, plummeting through the floor with a horrible sinking feeling. "Already?"
"I'm sorry, Ren," he says, the canvas bag clinking as he places it on the bed. Stellan lets out an obnoxiously loud yawn and stands to shrug on a shirt, bolting my bedroom door and standing next to it so no one comes in.
"I hate this," I grumble, sipping some water from the skin in my bag. I hate this. Ihatethis.
"It's three days of sicknesses every few weeks in return for a lifetime of peace," says Stellan, telling me what I already know. "Just don't die today."
Useful advice. "I've lost count of the times we've done this, and I've not died yet."
"You've come too close," whispers my brother, his brow creased. Onyx has always struggled with study and academia, but he spent months of his childhood learning how to do this for me. He stole from apothecaries at night for me. Onyx spends his life doing things for other people, for me more than anyone. One day I hope I can repay him.
"You look sweaty," observes Stellan. He's brimming with intelligent wisdom this morning.
"I've been lifting weights since three," Onyx replies, carefully dropping a few drops of green liquid from a vial into an amber flask being heated by a candle. I watch in dread-filled silence for half an hour as he carefully measures tens of different liquids, grinding leaves and infusing the vial with Evergreen magic that flows from his and Stellan's fingertips.
After forty-five minutes, he hands me the glass of thick green-brown liquid that I have drunk every month of my adult life. Whether we've been in the ice desert, up a mountain, or in the palace of the Forest King, Onyx has always found a way to make it happen.
