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Araxis batted him away. “Your arms are trembling like sapling trees in a northern wind. I’d drain the life out of you.”
“I would prefer that to crawling out of a Dread Chasm,” Vann quipped. “This old shit knee, eh?”
“Sure,” Faldir cut in, rueful smile in place, “it’s the wonky knee and not Brand’s steps being half as tall as you are.”
Vann huffed. “I’m open to gallant offers of conveyance if—”
“What the fuck!” Hedda’s disgust was palpable. “You’re bandying jokes about like this is fine?” She dashed a rogue tear away, clearly infuriated it had dared to fall, and gestured between the comatose mates. “There’s nothing funny about this. Have some bloody respect.”
“She’s right,” Amun said. “This is neither the time, nor place. We are not yet safe.”
“No disrespect was meant.” Faldir knelt by his twin, wrapping a massive arm around her. “We laugh to keep from weeping, lest the tears cripple us. You know it well.”
“Not this time.” Hedda gathered Lunara closer, her jaw tight as she cleared tangled hair from the witchling’s face. “Feed from whoever, but stop pissing about. Cope later. We need to get them home.”
For his part, Magnus only watched in silence, fighting a wash of saliva and the churning in his gut. He agreed with Hedda, and held Brand even tighter for it. Rocked him back and forth. Planted a kiss on his temple.
Anything else would break him.
—He’ll be alright, Maggie. They both will—
Aye, Pet.
Magnus would make sure of it.
“I wish you’d let me take her home where she can be nearer to the cosmos. It will help.”
Adorned in black hide armor, the Blessed Nightmare of the Endless Dark lived up to his Elder Sorcerit name, the shadows seeming to cling to him in an attempt to soothe his obvious frustration.
Hard to reconcile the sight with Mag’s memories of him as a drooling babe.
“As I said when we returned, and a dozen times in the few hours since, the Elder Council will have to wait for their prize.” Magnus finished re-tucking a blanket around Lunara’s shoulders and turned to his youngest brother. “I’ll not stand for them being separated again. They need each other.”
Araxis threw his hands up. “And as I’ve said, this has nothing to do with Lunara being the Keeper. She’s Nachthellian—the moons and stars are literally a necessity for her.”
Mag wasn’t buying it. Perhaps it was how vehemently Lunara herself detested the place, but the suggestion didn’t sit right.
“She managed just fine outside of the Evesong for the last few months,” he countered. “It can wait, and I think you know it.”
He could tell Araxis wanted to argue, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Blessedly, though, he chose to hold his tongue.
They’d laid Brand and Lunara together in their chamber, the tower returned to its former glory after the attack on the Horned City. Seagulls sang over the crashing waves of the Serpent Sea, and fluffy clouds drifted overhead beyond the glass dome, the beauty of the scene an insult to their reality.
I hate this.
—Aye, lad. We all do—
“Brand would joke that Solyrian is just another star for your kind to feed from,” Lyriat murmured. “We’ve always teased him for it, but it makes more sense than anything else these days.”
A salty breeze drifted in on the tails of the sunlight to ruffle his long, copper hair and the gauzy curtains ‘round the bed, as if to give credence to what he said.
The towering Demon King of Straelon stood, running a hand over Brand’s brow before he smoothed the rumpled sheets, and Mag wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the monarch so…empty.
“Aye. I rather like the idea myself,” he said, Pet nodding his agreement within.
Fern arrived on shimmering wings, her curls a burning lavender halo as she hit the balcony. “This was just delivered. Hedda also said to tell you that Vann and Amun have departed but will return soon.”
“I believe that would be His Highness Valandyrian and His Highness Amunkar to you,” Araxis said, nothing unpleasant in his tone.
