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The only fucking thing that mattered to their youngest brother.
That single-minded arsehole.
—Aye—
And I’m a fool. I should’ve known, Pet. Should never have trusted him.
And it fucking hurt.
“Vann, Amun, and Amal have gone to fetch your parents,” Lyriat called out as he and the twins rushed up. “Is Brand well? What is she doing here?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out,” Mag answered. “Where’s Araxis, Cordelia? And where the fuck is Lunara?”
“The answer to both of those questions is the same.” She side-eyed the others. “But there are vows involved that I am incapable of breaking in order to reveal it.”
“I’m going to throttle him,” Magnus growled.
“His vows are identical,” Cordelia snapped. “Save your ire, Your Highness—he had as little choice in the matter as I did.”
Mag slumped. More than anything, he was disappointed that Araxis used such a moment to betray them for the Evesong’s sake, vows or no. There was always a choice. Always paths for getting around the rules and ensuring the best for everyone. Taking Lunara away from Brand right after she healed him, against her will…
He hadn’t realized his littlest brother was so ruthless. Up tight, aye. But devoted enough to a mass of shadowy land that he’d sacrifice his own family for it? That was something else entirely.
What happened to the lad who used his mist to play pranks? Who begged me to braid his hair and give him rides?
—I’m not sure those are the questions you should be asking, Maggie—
One sharp edge of a massive battle axe appeared at Cordelia’s throat.
“By your own admittance, you are on Demon lands uninvited and with ill purpose,” Hedda seethed, towering in her rage.
“Not to mention my ban of all Sorcerit from the Montrealm.” Lyriat’s whorls of power throbbed, his wings twitching. “You have three seconds to give us something before my Commander is taking your head off to send the rest of the Council a message, Elder Firebane. Two…”
Cordelia waved a dismissive hand over Brand’s torso. “His Highness, Brandir, is still alive and seemingly no longer in possession of the dark things that were described to me.”
Hedda sneered, her axe blade making contact. “Not good enough.”
Magnus wasn’t so sure. The flood of relief that washed over him was nigh overwhelming.
“You heard her, Cordelia,” Lyriat said, leaning closer. “Think like your life depends on it, because it does.”
“Thick-headed, impossible Demons,” Cordelia mumbled. “The Evesong’s Occurrence is soon. A certain Keeper is paramount to its success, as I’m sure you are aware. And I believe you were all graciously invited. Perhaps you’d like to visit Nachthelliae at the next cycling of the full moons and celebrate this most blessed of events with the Sorcerit.”
“I don’t think you heard me clearly the first time.” Lyriat flashed his fangs and wrapped his own hand around the shoulder of Hedda’s axe handle. “Is the blade at your neck not sufficient in aiding your understanding? Tell us—”
That same rush of power—Araxis’s power—swelled and disappeared, followed by an all too familiar rasp screaming, “I’m going to gut you, you duplicitous cunting bucket of slimy fucking cock warts!”
“Ah, fuck.” Faldir swung his axe over and secured it on his back. “The bastard grounded her.”
Mag’s eye twitched, already knowing what Faldir meant without looking at Fern. Something in him ignited, and whatever short-lived relief he felt over Brand surviving was burned away beneath a burgeoning wrath.
Nachthelliae’s Elder Council had some fucking questions to answer.
“Oh, aye,” Mag hissed. “We’ll be there.” He scooped Brand up, taking no small amount of comfort in the pained groan his brother loosed. “And you’d better make damned sure your realm is plenty fucking ready for this one when he wakes up and finds out what you’ve done. The rest of us will be the least of your worries.”
To his great surprise, Cordelia grinned, orange and red flames flickering in the black depths of her pupils. “I’m counting on it, Wolflord.”
Fuck Araxis. Fuck Magnus. Fuck everyone. Fern was never doubting her feelings again.
