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Fern’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m s-sorry, Your Highness. The matters for this gathering have already been agreed upon and set before the Council and Blessed Keeper. I cannot let you in without permission.”

Brand raised a brow and stared down at the Sorcerit clerk, who was practically trembling in his ceremonial robes. It crossed his mind that having Stirling perched on his shoulder might diminish the overall effect of his threatening stance, but he didn’t particularly give a shite.

“Then get permission.”

Faldir covered his snicker with a cough.

Finding his twin shadows at the doors to the Council’s meeting place put him at ease—especially when they didn’t break their guard to greet him in front of the clerk. It was important they were seen taking their duty seriously by those who might be more inclined to share any gossip. Like the sniveling numpty in front of him.

“If I may, Your Highness?” The clerk pointed to an item on his board and parchment. “As it happens, your own blessed brother, His Highness Valandyrian, is set to be presented next. Should he agree, I may be able to allow your entrance as one of his entourage.”

“I don’t much care how I gain my entrance. Do what you will.”

The clerk scurried off like a little mouse, careening around the next corner and out of sight.

“It’s good to see you looking so well, Highness,” Hedda murmured, eyes forward. “Are you back with us for good?”

“I am, Second. Thank you both for keeping an eye on her in my absence. For everything.”

“There’ll be plenty of time later to get drunk and hug about it,” Faldir said. “What is it you’re up to now?”

“Speaking the Nachthellians’ language,” Brand answered. “My hope is that they fully understand their place when I’m done with them.”

Hedda darted her eyes both ways down the corridor before hissing, “I’m not sure violence is going to win you any points, Brand. With anyone.”

“As I said, their language. Brutality is the domain of Demons. Sorcerit are somewhat more ethereal than that, aren’t they.”

Faldir snorted. “That’s one word for the uptight arseholes. Weeping shite, these meetings. I’m surprised Lunara’s brains haven’t come melting out of her bloody ears yet.”

“Lunara is trying to make it better in the ways she understands, but they’re resistant.” Hedda sighed. “She’s ignorant and doesn’t see things the way they do. The way a Realm Ruler should. We’ve tried to help her, but⁠—”

“I’m sorry,” Brand interrupted, “but if there’s one thing I am most glad for, it’s the way my little moon sees the world. I would change nothing about that.”

Hedda gave him the strangest look. “Magnus said something similar.”

“Good.”

Pattering footsteps sounded, and the clerk reappeared, sweating even more than before. “Excellent news, Your Highness. His Highness Valandyrian has agreed to allow you to accompany him as a member of his entourage. If you will follow me? Quickly, please. The Council is nearly ready for him.”

Not so long ago, Brand might’ve spiraled into a bad mood at that. He would have perseverated on every word choice and been anxious over the seeming preference for Vann while he was being denied. Now, he felt no such thing, only relieved to gain his admittance.

All of his nerves were being reserved for what he intended to do. For seeing her, at long last, in what was—admittedly—quite a dramatic way. Especially for him.

The clerk led him back around the outer walls of the amphitheater to a discreet door where he nodded at the two Sorcerit guards there. Their looks were understandably wary as they opened the way for Brand, no doubt recalling what happened the last time he visited their capital.

He ducked through and into the waiting chamber, eyes immediately landing on Vann.

His brother swept over in that impossible Fae way, too elegant for how swift it was. “I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to see life in your eyes again, Brand. May I greet you properly?”

Brand chuckled and knelt, careful of his size and horns as he allowed Vann to embrace him. As always, Vann’s Fae kiss landed on Brand’s cheek with a sting, prickling along his scalp. “Much has happened, but it can wait,” he said, letting go. “I’m sorry to intrude on your meeting. It’s rather urgent, I’m afraid.”

“I have some idea.” Vann raised a brow. “Everyone in the family was informed of your time alone and commanded to respect it by your rather expressive mate. You know, I watched her disintegrate a cataclysmic wave of dead body parts and dreadbeasts, and I genuinely think she was more blimmin’ terrifying when threatening us over disturbing you.” He shook his head, huffing. “I assume this is the first you’re seeing her, since she was still looking rather drawn a few hours ago. So, tell me—how can I help?”

Brand scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Just…keep an eye on Araxis, in case he tries to stop me.”

Vann laughed outright. “What fun.”