There was a tugging at his skin, and gasps sounded as the muck of battle lifted from his body, from the others, the filth they’d gathered hovering in the air before slopping to the ground.
Thad let out a sigh, running his hands over his bare chest with a look of contentment. When he trotted off to fetch his discarded robe—thatglowing, pasty skinon stunning display—Brand couldn’t help the fit of laughter.
It was always so strange after a battle, when he found himself still standing, still breathing. Hilarity and misery twined like hysterical lovers, the urge to weep colliding with the urge to laugh, and he became nothing more than a conduit for whatever form the emotions took when they forced their way out of him.
Brand howled like a loon, not giving a single shite because he was just so fucking grateful to bealive. Before he knew it, Lunara and Magnus were wheezing right along with him.
“What did I say?” Thad finished off his robe tie and threw his hands up.
“Not a damned thing wrong, lad,” Magnus said on a mirthful exhale. “But yes, you single-minded pup—you’ll be marked for your part.”
Thad bunched his hands into triumphant fists. “Yes! Finally!”
“Aye.” His brother’s voice was little more than a croak as he tried to get hold of himself. “We’ll put it on your arse to be sure everyone can see it the next time you’re running for your sorry life.”
“Ach, not funny, Mag!”
Brand glanced to Luna, to the tears streaming down her cheeks—lovely, cleansing, life-affirming tears. His own laughter died as he stared at her, heart squeezing at the sight of that smiling, beautiful face…
Fuck, it was everything.
“Right.” Magnus sighed, scrubbing both hands down his face. “Best we retrieve Hedda and wee Fern and get the fuck back to Straelon.”
“Fern?” Lunara asked.
“Aye, that’s what he’s taken to calling the Fae,” Thad snickered.
“I had to call her something,” Mag growled through his teeth.
“Why Fern though?”
Brand wanted to know the same. It wasn’t unlike his brother to give nicknames, but it usually depended on the person being conscious enough to hear it and be annoyed by the fact.
Magnus shrugged. “The first thought I had when I saw the shredded ribbons of her wings was that they looked like fern leaves. It stuck.”
“You’re coming back to the Montrealm?” Brand had assumed his brother would stay here. Try to make sense of what had happened by throwing himself into fixing it like he did with everything else.
Mag speared him with those golden eyes of his and stepped up close. “Faldir?”
Emotion flooded in to choke Brand. He’d done his utmost to bury reality, shoving it as deep as it would go so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the awful truth.
Full strength and raging, Brand had barely gotten them out. Injured, lesser, alone… There was no way Faldir had survived whatever befell him. He’d realized it the second they came upon the army of Forgotten.
His twin shadows were no more.
Hedda was going to lose her stars-damned mind, especially after he’d ensured she had no part in it. No choices. When she found out her brother was… Fuck.
He wanted to forget and go back to laughing, but Brand forced himself to face it, vision clouding as tears filled his eyes.
Faldir—a life-long companion, as close to him as any of his brothers—was dead.
He couldn’t voice it out loud. All he could do was shake his head, words and sounds refusing to work their way past the strangled lump in his throat.
“Aye, then I’m coming back with you. Glynmor is…” Mag’s eyes closed for a beat before they were on him again. “Well, nothing more to be done here, is there? But it was me who askedfor your help, and I’ll face Lyriat for the part I played in this dismal shite. Hedda, too.” He enveloped Brand in a crushing embrace. “And you, if you can ever forgive me,” he whispered, abruptly releasing him and walking away towards the trees.
Thad loped after him, sparing a quick glance back before being swallowed by the dwindling forest shadows.
“Are you alright?” Luna’s hand landed on his back, stroking softly.
