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“The first favor I must ask is your discretion. Please, keep what I am about to say to yourself.”
Sebastian grunted his acceptance.
It was as close to an answer as Bertram was ever going to get.
“Reynard is in danger,” he said. “An enemy has set their sights on his mate and their clutch.”
Sebastian swore. “The bronze bastards?”
“No. This foe is not affiliated with any particular clan.”
“If not a dragon from one of the clans, then who are we up against?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
It came just as easily as all the other lies Bertram had been instructed to tell, but this one did something most lies didn’t—it curdled in his stomach.
“I need you to come with me to see Reynard,” he said before the sour feeling inside of him had a chance to creep into his voice. “Bring your largest vehicle, and come prepared to fight.”
Humor honed Sebastian’s voice sickle-sharp. “I’ll supply the toothpicks.”
“No.” Bertram surprised himself—he almost growled it. “The goal is to keep Reynard’s mate and their eggs safe. You will only use violence in self-defense. The enemy will die another day.”
There came a telling pause, then, in the same pointed tone of voice, Sebastian asked, “Tell me again who it is, exactly, we’re fighting, brother?”
“That information is confidential.”
“Father has entrusted me with secrets of the council prior to this mission. You should be at liberty to discuss details with me now.”
“One day I shall tell you,” Bertram said, and the lie ate away at his stomach. “I swear it. But today is not that day. Please, Sebastian. I know that we are not on the best terms, but we have worked together on and off for hundreds of years now to keep our clan safe. I beg you to trust me just this once. I can’t do this alone.”
There was silence.
Then Sebastian said, “When are you leaving for Reynard’s?”
Bertram’s shoulders sagged, and he dropped his head onto the headrest, closing his eyes. “I’m en route. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“And I shall be on your heels.”
“Thank you.” Bertram let more emotion into his voice than he typically would. “I will find a way to pay you back.”
“That’s unnecessary. We are brothers. We keep no score.” The sentence hung open, and after a thoughtful moment, Sebastian said, “I do not envy you, Bertram. I’ll leave it at that. Now, enough chitchat. Tell me, before I leave, is there anything else you require me to bring?”
Bertram winced. “That brings me to the second favor I have to ask of you. Will you pick up Everard on your way to Reynard’s? I fear we may need his help.”
* * *
Bertram tipped the driver on his way out of the car and strode up the long walkway to Reynard’s old Victorian, where Reynard’s butler, Peterson, greeted him at the door.
“Good day, Mr. Drake,” said Peterson, bowing his head stiffly.
“Good day, Peterson,” Bertram replied, smiling Frederich’s most charming smile. “I have come to see my brother and his new mate. Would you please take me to them?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Drake and his companion are indisposed.”
“It is quite urgent, I’m afraid,” Bertram said politely. “I do not have time for indisposition.”
Peterson, bless him, was a professional, and while he soured at the demand, he kept a respectful demeanor. “I will inform them of your arrival,” he said. “Please wait here.”
