The world spun again and he was sitting in the seat, one with himself. His limbs felt fragile and weak, like twigs and mud and paper, instead of the strong solidity of the body he was used to now.
A hand reached out to grasp his own, the touch gentle even as the taloned, ivory nails terrified him. “We talked about this before, remember? Even His Highness Magnus will have to abandon you eventually. Everybody leaves at some point. It’s not your fault, it’s just the way of the world.”
He absolutely couldnotremember ever speaking to this creature before, but Brand searched his young mind for the events of the day anyway and?—
There.
That’s right. This was the age he would’ve been when Magnus was preparing to make his permanent move to Thodelebor as a young male. There’d been a feast to celebrate. Mag had beamed at the room, his pride evident as toasts were made and gifts were offered. Just as Vann had been. Just as Amun had been.
Mag hadn’t seemed saddened by the prospect at all, hadn’t once looked at Brand with any sort of remorse, and it… it hadhurt.
“The most important thing to remember is that the ones who leave us almost always forget us in the end. They get on with their lives and fail to recall how much we once meant to them. It’s better for people like you and me if we acknowledge it ahead of time and don’t let them bother us. Some people aren’t built for love—like your parents and brothers. They don’t know how persistent it’s supposed to be, how accommodating. Too wrapped up in themselves. It’s nothing you did, Brandir. You’re such a good boy, always trying your best. No one understands you.” Her hand squeezed, thumb running lightly over his knuckles. “But I do. Perfectly. I promise I’llneverforget you or leave you behind. You’re too important to me.”
The air burned in his lungs, tears gathering in his lashes as he rasped, “Why?”
Within, Brand struggled against his confines, trapped as a child while his adult mind thrashed inside. She knew everything that had quietly terrified him for decades. The abandonment. The estrangement. The duties and responsibilities eating all of them alive until it sometimes felt as if his family hardly knew each other anymore.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed your parents starting to pull away from you, readying for the day you leave as well. They’ll say it hurts, that they wish you didn’t have to go, but you’ll see how the letters come less often, and the visits and invitations to return home start to disappear. You’ll realize they were excited for you to go, able to enjoy themselves without the burden of children. That they never really cared as much as they said.” Her sigh was heavy, laden with sadness. “Oh, it’s so unfair to you, my perfect boy. I only wish to give you the love and care you deserve.”
Brand turned his head to look at her, not comprehending why a perfect stranger would be so generous. How she could see all of his deepest worries and give voice to them so accurately.
Her face was steeped in a lurching fog, features clearing here and there, but never all at once. He caught her ruby smile as she said, “Maybe someday, you’ll find yourself wanting to offer your love in return. I’m going to need help soon, and you’re the only one I can trust. What do you think?”
“Forgive me,” he said, wary and hopeful at once. “This day has been dreadfully long, and I am ever so tired. I can’t seem to recall your name, kind madam. I would know it before I offer my thanks for your friendship.”
Brand nearly gagged on the words of his younger self, so fucking confused that his stomach was sick with it.
On one hand, he wanted to lean into her and clasp onto everything she offered with desperate fingers. To thank her forhonest, straightforward words in a world where everyone hid their true intentions behind twisted phrasing. Anything, as long as she promised not to leave him too, even though he had no bloody idea who she was.
On the other, he wanted to break free of the flimsy bones holding him down. To rail at this version of himself that she was not offering kindness or friendship. That grown females shouldn’t be talking to children in the midnight woods and asking them for favors.
She laughed outright, bumping her head against his shoulder. “We really must stop meeting when it’s so late. You say that every time, as well.” She gave his hand a final squeeze and rose to her full height, quite tall for a female. “I grow tired myself. This land wasn’t made for one such as me. See you soon?”
He nodded, hardly understanding what he was agreeing to.
“Good.” Dozens of crows descended from the trees to encircle her, their caws loud enough to drown out the rush of the river. “Perhaps then, you’ll remember I’m?—”
Brand satup with a wrenching gasp, trembling and heaving. He did his best to avoid disturbing Luna, untangling himself from the sheets and stumbling from the bed and into the washroom.
One stone glowed above as he filled the sink basin and splashed cold water on his face, scrubbing his hands over both horns and through the short hairs of his beard.
The sight of his towering body in the mirror was a relief, the muscled bulk reminding him that he was no longer anywherenear as weak as he had been as a child. As he’d felt while imprisoned within it once again, unable to escape.
“Just a nightmare,” he whispered to his reflection. “Just a load of imaginary shite.”
Already, it was fading into the recesses of his mind, the details hazing into a dark nothing.
Luna mumbled as she turned over, her words little more than nonsense before she settled again. A flutter in his chest and, even passed out, he felt her soul searching for him through the unrelenting fibers of their newly-sealed bond.
Without warning, Brand bent over the basin and vomited, a cold sweat breaking out as guilt and shame slammed into him with the force of a comet landing.
His beautiful mate was right there, perfection personified. Everything he’d ever wanted. More and better than he ever could have imagined.
So why in the fuck had the nameOkthanabeen on his lips like a prayer when he’d awoken?
By the next morning, even that little detail was forgotten once more, and he didn’t remember that—for a moment—he’dremembered.
It was justas Brand had said.
