Brand picked through the crowd, and it was all he could do not to snap at his brethren. None of the rumors were true. His next oldest brother onlylookeddaunting. Otherwise, Vann and Mag had spent a lifetime competing for first place as the most charming male Brand had ever bloody met.
Vann rose slowly to his feet with the ghost of a smile, dipping his head in greeting. “Hello, little brothers.” A sharply pointed ear stuck out on one side as the satin sheet of his silver hair fell forward, before he straightened and tucked it away. “I hear you’ve been having all the fun, and saving none for the rest of us. Rude, wouldn’t you say?”
Mag laughed and clapped Vann on the side of the face, drawing him in for a hug. “You’d have been bored to tears.”
“Now, why don’t I believe you?” Vann planted a kiss in Mag’s hair and broke away to dart mismatched eyes over Brand. “Hmm.” Brow furrowed, his head tilted to one side. “Something’s changed.”
The statement hit Brand a hundred different ways—not all of them good. “Truth be told, everything has changed,” he admitted quietly.
Vann nodded and stepped closer, his arms tentatively outstretched. “May I greet you properly?”
Another punch to the gut. It had been quite a while since… since he’d been around anyone who might feel the need to ask.
Refusing most touch outside of sparring was one wall of many he’d inadvertently built over the years—part of an intricate, hardened framework designed to protect himself from… something.
Looking at his brother, at the cautious hope in his expression, Brand suddenly couldn’t recall why he’d done that. Why he’d drawn a line in the sand and only allowed a precious few to cross it. Why Mag and Thad would be exceptions, but not Vann.
Especially considering the sheer amount of damned hugging and crying he’d been doing lately.
No. Notlately.Since… since the feast, weeks ago, when he’d called out to the Sisters and asked for a boon. A desperate plea to be remade. To be given peace and have his spirit eased.
Burning Solyrian, he hadn’t even realized the connection. Luna had come crashing in like a comet the very next morning, upending his carefully structured life in wonderful, mystifying ways—all he’d ever wanted, and exactly what he’d needed.
An answer to prayer.
With her, he could breathe. For her, he could be more.
Aching regret crawled up his throat as he stared at his Fae brother. “Yes,” he finally rasped. “Please.”
Vann chuckled and enveloped him in a gentle embrace, as if afraid Brand would bolt if he squeezed too hard. “There you are,” he whispered. “It’s been a long while.”
Brand huffed into the high collar of Vann’s overcoat. “I saw you two months ago.”
He knew exactly what Vann meant, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not in the great hall where anyone might hear.
“Yes, but”—Vann gave him the customary Fae kiss as well, the accompanying sting of power sending prickles along his scalp—“you were rather peeved that day, if I recall, eh?”
Brand gave him a shove, laughing. “You raised the price on the fabric we Demons rely on almost exclusively to clothe ourselves. Of course I was bloodypeeved.”
Vann waved that away. “I was merely the grudging messenger. Speaking of which…” He pulled both of Brand’s letters from an inside breast pocket, the edges already worn and crinkled. “I’ve brought that thing you requested. Since it was done, and I didn’t feel like waiting alone to hear from Argoph about the other foolery, here I am. Also”—He retrieved a bottle black as night from some other hidden compartment, followed by the box of rolled herbs he was never without, and flourished both in Brand’s direction—“I’ve missed the particularly stunning view of the Horned City from your balcony.”
Mag snatched the bottle of enchanted Fae wine with a whistle of appreciation. “Vann, you perfect bastard. If you knew the kind of week we’ve had…”
Vann glanced at the hall and leaned in, voice low. “I know precisely the kind of week you’ve had. Or, at least, enough of it. It’s all anyone is blimmin’ talking about along the chasm border on our side. Surprise! You had an audience.”
“Wonderful,” Mag grumbled. “No one thought to, I don’t know,help?”
“They were too busy spreading the news like wildfire. Everyone in the known world will be sufficiently terrified by this time next week.” Vann tapped his box on Brand’s chest, brows raised. “How about that view?”
Brand sighed, his head hanging. All he wanted was to tear through the castle as fast as his feet would take him, straight back to Luna. To bed and sleep, and the feel of her pressed close.
But… Fuck.
Duty—as ever—was calling.
“So you seewhy we may have quite the issue on our hands now.”
Vann took another drag of his herbs, the smoke curling around the glowing tip to cast him in a mystical sort of light.
