Every morning they peeled themselves from the bed and onto the practice field. Every evening, they fell right back into each other’s arms. While Brand went about his duties as High Ambassador—showing her the mundane parts of himself that only made her fall harder—Lunara fit as many healings as she could between their time together, his frequent blood gifts cleansing her of the pain day after day, night after night.
Sisters, thenights.
Brand’s lovemaking was a revelation.
She’d spent her life overthinking. Obsessing over every movement and choice. His control and consideration, his dominance—all of it removed the burden of thought. And when she did seize power, when something animalistic overtook her and she was helpless to fight it, her body was stillhisinstrument, and he was a master at his craft.
There was only one point of contention between them.
Lunara had declined to move into Brand’s chambers. Had refused to even see them. She was loathe to admit the remnant of fear that lingered. Old doubts and embedded habits, clinging to her, refusing to dissipate.
The constant conversations about Glynmor were like a fist around her throat. Draining her. Stoking that wary feeling. Hours upon hours spent trying to work out what happened, who the ‘pretender’ might be, and how they were going to handle the chasms.
And at the end of it all was Fern.
She was never far from the Fae. The wall in her mind was bad enough, impenetrable and now undoubtably the thing holding her under, but Lunara was convinced Fern was in danger.
Something just wasn’t right.
Well… Someone.
Valandyrian had been waiting outside their door the morning after their mating, barely acknowledging Brand’s ecstatic announcement. All of the Fae Son’s attention had been fixed on the inside of her chamber, his breezy congratulations followed immediately by a request to finally lay eyes on Fern.
Brand hadn’t noticed whatsoever, happily inviting him inside.
Lunara, however, had watched him closely as he’d rounded the floating slab the Fae laid upon, a crease between his brows. He must have limped around the damned thing ten times, arms crossed, stroking his chin back and forth with his knuckles, gaze turned more inward than out.
At last, he’d sighed and thrown his hands up, a sad smile on his lips. “Thodelebor’s frontier is indeed a blimmin’ strange place for a Fae to be, and begs many questions.” He’d drawn a finger down one of Fern’s cheeks then. “Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve seen her before. Poor creature, her family must beworried sick. I’ll keep an ear out for anyone looking. If you’ll excuse me?”
Brand had chuckled as his brother tapped the pointed shell of his ear, thinking Vann’s playful comment an adorable joke. He hadn’t been perturbed in the least when his brother swept out of the room just shy of running, and he’d thought nothing of it when Vann was nowhere to be found until the next day, when he mysteriously reappeared at breakfast.
Lunara had seen the tension ratcheting his shoulders higher and higher with every pass around Fern’s sickbed, though. Had heard the strained lightness in his tone and false pity in his words. Had honed right in on the way his fists had flexed and tightened as he’d left, the slight tremble there.
Maybe it took a lifelong deceiver to recognize another. Maybe it was a different, intangible thing altogether. Either way, Lunara was sure Vann knewexactlywho Fern was, and had lied right to their faces about it.
Except, she couldn’t figure outwhy.In his presence, she never noticed anything off or ill-intentioned. Never had a twist of dread in her gut. In fact, she was having trouble trusting her intuition at times because he was one of the gentlest creatures she’d ever met.
It was theshiftin the air holding her captive. The stillness settling over her bones to tell her the universe was holding its breath and waiting. A feeling that something was coming, something big. She just wasn’t sure where he fit into it.
It didn’t help that, many days later and a mere week before the Montrealm’s Occurrence, Emperor Alwyn sent word to his sons.
The response to Brand’s missive from the day she’d arrived in the Montrealm was dangling from Vann’s fingertips as he nursed a mug of tea.
“Just like them to leave us all waiting, and then demand we comenow,”he grumbled.
What if it’s him? What if he’s the imposter?
She narrowed her eyes on Vann, searching for any clue in his words and movements. Except, all she could focus on were the purple smudges under his mismatched eyes. The twitching muscle in his cheek and the faint grimace on his lips that had nothing to do with the letter. He looked pained, exhausted, and her own body betrayed her as she cringed with empathy.
“You know why that is,” Brand said, his large hand drawing circles on her thigh beneath the table.
“I don’t, though.” She shimmied along the bench, closer to him. “Am I allowed to know?”
Vann set the parchment carefully onto the table, as if it might snap out any second and bite him. “The Imperials are very rarely all in the same place at the same time,” he answered. “It makes people nervous, and there’s bound to be talk and rumors.”
“What, why? You’re a family.”
“Yes, well…” Brand gave her a squeeze and moved to wrap his arm around her. “It’s important the realms are assured we’re truly part of them. Loyal to them. That we won’t combine our might and seek to overtake them, like in the days of the conquerers.” He looked around the great hall, eyes darting. “Especiallyour family.”
