Or maybe it was just what friends did, since Lyriat had done the same for him almost as often.
Lyriat blinked, sunlight glinting off of his fangs when he jerked and snarled, trying to shake the rage away.
“That’s it,” Brand said. “Easy does it.”
Lyriat reverted to his lesser self, stumbling as he released Mag and gripped Brand for support.
Fucking finally.
Magnus cranked his head side-to-side. “Youactuallythink this was political?”
Between Baldrir’s condition and Brand’s sneaking suspicion that there was no possible way he’d made it through the portal on his own… Sisters save them, but there was little else it could be.
Dissent and rebellion were inevitable in a world as large as this one. Bordoroth had its fair share of criminals and cutthroats, or extremist factions that would rise up, intent on destroying the Empire and the peace it stood for.
Exactly the sort of thing he and his brothers were meant for. With family at stake no matter where they turned, ensuring accord was as much a personal matter as it was a diplomatic one for those within the Imperial Line. The Blessings bestowed upon them at birth and their place as High Ambassadors gave them alone the unique ability to uphold Imperial law and order and see to the welfare of their individual realms, all while possessing a true loyalty to both.
Some people really did not bloody like that.
Hedda and Faldir returned to their normal state with a pop of light, their faces twisted into mirrored, wary masks as Brand helped Lyriat to the nearest bench.
The king huffed, managing a bitter half-smile. “What other reason could anyone have for mutilating Baldrir in such a way, when his relation to me is well known?”
“Aye,” his brother whispered. “There is that.”
“And while I acknowledge it wasn’t you,specifically, it would be foolish to rule out the Westrealm entirely.”
Mag scrubbed a hand down his face, scratching his beard. “No. Whatever happened to Baldrir, it wasn’t Thodelebor officially targeting Straelon. Nothing about his condition suggests the Wolflords are responsible. He’d be chewed half to death, not cut with a blade in perfect lines. Aside from that”—He sat down opposite Lyriat, ticking off his fingers—“our uncle may as well be yours, the Chieftains are gentle and fair, and we depend on our symbiotic relationship with the Montrealm too greatly. It would only hurt them to violate you. Besides, those two are entirely too besotted with one another to bother with cross-realm political maneuverings. All Lycidas and Ursula want out of life is to fuck and feast and make merry.”
“Even villains want those things, Your Highness,” Faldir murmured. “It doesn’t absolve them.”
“I’m telling you, I would have known,” Mag argued. “And I sure as shite wouldn’t have let it happen, allegiance to Thodelebor or no. It wasn’t us.”
“Be that as it may, it was someone with an agenda. Until we know who it is, or what they want, we must be hypervigilant.” Hedda eyed Lyriat, her brow raised.
“Oh, fuck no,” Lyriat scoffed. “No you don’t.”
“We can, and we will. Won’t we, Brand?”
Brand let his head drop, having already been dreading this part of whatever conversation they ended up having. An enemy was targeting the Montrealm, Lyriat was its king, ergo…
“Hedda and Faldir will select a pool of twenty-four warriors, taken from my own First Legion. Four guards at once, rotating on a six-hour schedule. Two at your door and two in the chamber when you sleep.”
Lyriat sprang up, chest heaving. “I believe I just saidfuck no.Or have all of your ears stopped working?”
“Oy, our ears are working just fine.” Faldir sniffed, crossing his arms. “It’s you and your hubris that are the problem.”
“My hubris? I’m going to?—”
Hedda snatched up Lyriat’s hand before he could use it to throttle her twin. “Please. At least until Baldrir is well again and can tell us what happened.”
“Ifhe’s ever well again.”
Lyriat deflated at Faldir’s quiet words, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
The doors banging open once more saved them from falling too deeply into hopelessness. Brand had managed to put the Sorcerit from his mind, but seeing Thad stroll across the great hall brought her face screeching to the forefront of all thought.
Or, at least, her eyes.
