That time, she did laugh, though she wasn’t amused. “I didn’tknowyou, Brand. I didn’t trust you. I’ve been running for so long, I hardly know how to do anything else. And I assumed—incorrectly, I think—you might feel obligated to inform them. Turn me over, and good riddance.” She swallowed, finally getting to the crux of the issue. “The second they find out I’m alive, not only will they want answers, they’ll wantme.My giftis no small thing, and there hasn’t been a healer as skilled as my mother in all the years since she’s been gone. I’ll be a coveted prize and I’m terrified they’ll do anything to have me—including using you against me. If you got hurt, or worse?—”
“I won’t let that happen,” he growled. “I am an Imperial Son, and you aremy mate. What argument could they have?”
“I’m not worried about their arguments, Brand. I’m worried about the underhanded, lawless ways they might subvert you and the rest of your family. I have the ability to harness our most precious resource and dowhatever I want with it.They’ve done far worse for far, far less.”
His head tipped back against the bed frame. “Fuck.”
One word. One, single word and she felt the world crumbling around her again, her mind and body detaching from each other. Why did he look resigned? Why did she feel heartbreak and regret in their bond? Why did?—
“No!” He lunged for her, gathering her into his arms. “No, no, no. Forgive me. That wasforyou. For everything you’ve been through. Nothing more, I swear it. I’m here, and I’m staying.”
Her breaths were ragged, terror bleeding out in little pinpricks over her skin. “The bond is…”
“A heaping pile of wonderful, bloody confusing shite?”
Lunara huffed. “Something like that.”
Brand tipped her face up, his thumb drifting back and forth over her cheekbone. “I’m so sorry, little moon. So fucking sorry for what happened to you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, her lids. Ran his nose along hers. “Tell me their names, so I may remember them with you.”
“Stellan the Gemwright and Almaura the Bonewhisperer.”
His intake of breath meant he recognized the names. Anyone with any knowledge of Starkeep probably would. After all, the capital of the Evesong only functioned as it did because of her father’s inventions—and they’d been the only two elders who’dperished in the calamity.Miraculously,those whose towers had crumbled that night had all been gathered at the same party, on the opposite side of the Upper Block. If only their servants and staff had been as fortunate.
“They were Stellan and Almaura,” she whispered, “and they were wonderful.”
The flood of tears finally came, spilling over to the sound of her wracking sobs. Brand caught them all against his shoulder, rocking her as she let out fifty-two years’ worth of agony and finally accepted it. At least, some of it. Amazing, how much easier it was when there was someone to share it with.
When she’d finally wrung herself out—boneless exhaustion heavy on her limbs—Brand stretched away from her.
The dagger from Faldir appeared in his grip. “I found this on the mantle, gathering dust. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t realize you’d left it behind.”
She’d completely forgotten about it. The day they’d left for Thodelebor, she’d stood in front of the fire for what had felt like hours, trying to decide what to do. In the end, there’d really only been one, logical choice.
Lunara plucked a curl from her lap, twisting it as she looked away. “I didn’t feel confident enough, worthy enough, to bring a weapon. I’d had only hours to train with it. It was more likely I’d accidentally stab one of you than anyone who might deserve it.”
“They were quite the few hours though.” His voice was low, teasing.
Her body had no trouble remembering the way he’d molded himself to her, running through the motions over and over and?—
“You were flirting with me.”
He chuckled. “Of course I was bloody flirting with you.Poorly. I had an inkling we might be mates. It was my attempt to get closer, using teaching as a very convenient, not-at-all-obvious excuse to do so.” His finger teased around the bedsheet, across the swells of her breasts, dipping inside to pull it away.
“That explains why I didn’t learn a single thing,” she admitted, her back arching. “You were too distracting.”
“Mmm.” His lips landed between her collar bones, tongue dipping into the hollow between. “I know what you mean.”
“Is this real?” she breathed, a catch in her voice. “Was it really so easy as that?”
He detached his mouth from her neck and met her eyes. “I told you it didn’t matter. That I was yours and the rest be damned. When will you believe I meant it?”
She wasn’t sure when it had happened, really. “I believe you now.” She cupped his face, wonder dawning. “Sisters help me.”
He’d kept his word at every turn. Had proven over and over again he could be trusted.
Brandir aht Bordoroth, Blessed of Straelon, High Ambassador and Fourth Imperial Son of Alwyn and Fionerys was that rare and wondrous thing she’d thought long gone.
A good person. Honorable to his core. Compassionate and mindful of those who depended on him. He was everything.
