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She fisted the grass and dirt, screaming to the Montrealm’s dusky sky. It was better than crying. Or lingering too long on whether he made it back to Lunara in time to save her from splattering all over the Evesong’s Northern Forest. Or dwelling on the fact that he just betrayed them and crippled her without so much as a thought.

It didn’t matter. Fern would crawl all the way to Nachthelliae on her hands and knees if she had to—she didn’t need her stupid wings to rip his hideous fucking face off.

“Shite, Fern. Look at you.” Faldir was there, peeling her upright. “Did…did Lunara make it before Araxis⁠—”

“Yes.” That was the important thing, even if she didn’t know how he knew it. “She was starting to revive when that fucker showed up.”

Of course, all became clear after Fal half carried her limping arse across the field to the others.

Fern bared her teeth when she saw Cordelia the Firebane kneeling before Lyriat and Hedda, Magnus cradling Brand in his arms the same way she’d had Lunara in hers.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, bitch,” she hissed at the Sorcerit, swallowing a rush of saliva. “How dare⁠—”

It was no use. She managed two more stumbling steps before bending over and vomiting, head spinning as the pain caught up with her.

Which only made her more furious.

—She’s hurting bad, Maggie⁠—

For once, Fern was not interested in what Pet had to say, and the observation irritated the piss out of her.

“Araxis is dead when I find him.”

“Aye, lass,” Magnus growled, gaze boring into her. “We can go together.”

She hated what a comfort that look and those rumbling words were. That Magnus, of all creatures, was the one who eased some of her fury.

Damn him.

Bent over her knees, she heaved again, then pointed a shaking finger at Cordelia. “You’re fucking dead, too, Firebane. You, and the whole creepy Evesong, and your rutting Council of wankstains. Just as soon as I’m done with this shit.”

Sweet Sisters, it was agony. Utterly humiliating.

“Careful, Fae,” Cordelia murmured, “or everyone who could help you will be dead.”

Fern blinked, the world blurring as half of her body went numb. “As long as one of ‘em is you, I don’t fucking care.”

With that, she passed out.

Brand peeked out from behind a crystal column, hand wrapped around one of Pet’s ears to stop him from sticking his muzzle out too far and giving them away.

At the opposite end of the broad hall, Amun hugged their mum and laughed at something she said. The sound was deep and rumbling, and Brand had a hard time believing his oldest brother was ever a young boy. He’d only ever known Amun grown.

“Alright,” he whispered to Pet, “for this to work, you have to do exactly as I say.”

Pet’s long tongue lolled as he panted, head tilting, and Brand grinned back.

It didn’t matter that he and Amun never lived in Argoph at the same time—they were close. The only problem was that he and Vann never let Brand in on their fun, saying he was too little for such games. Today was the day he proved them wrong.

Amun always brought gifts and treats when he came home, stuffed in the bottoms of his deep, loose pockets. He also liked to hold them out of Brand’s reach until he said please and thank you and yes, you are Bordoroth’s best brother.

“Go straight for his legs.” Brand grabbed a fistful of fur and clambered his way onto Pet’s back. “I’ll jump right before you strike, roll, and scoop it all into our sack. As soon as I’ve got it, grab me and run.”

Pet reached his head around to lick Brand’s knee and then hunkered down.

They were ready.

“And…go!”