Lunara could hardly believe it when she said, “I will only do it if someone else—no, two someones—are in here with us. Just in case.Not Brand.”
That would be too much for her. Just because she was willing to trust Hedda and Nyri for a time, had begun to love them almost as much as she loved him, didn’t mean she wasn’t leaving. She didn’t need it to be any harder than it already was.
“Are you sure?” Hedda shared a look with Nyri. “He’s dying to see you.”
It was torture. Absolute, fucking torture.
“I’ve never been more positive in my life.”
Liar.
Nyri sighed, pushing her lips into a pout. “I’ll get whoever’s in the hall.” Her tone was flat, despondent, like she was the one being torn from her mate without a choice.
She returned a moment later with Faldir and Magnus in tow.
Shitting stars. How had she never noticed how starkly the brothers resembled one another before? Magnus was golden, where Brand was fiery, but they looked almost exactly the same, retaining more similarities through their Blessings than they had with their other brothers. Same nose and square, beardedjaw. That same dramatic arch to their brow and matching crinkles around their eyes.
Oh, Sisters, she couldn’t do it.
A sob exploded out of her, snatched back with a gasp as quickly as it had left her.
“Ach, witchling. It’s alright, lass, come here.”
“It isn’t safe,” she cried. “It isn’t?—”
His arms were around her before she could get away. Before she could talk herself out of accepting the embrace. It was like they’d coordinated the whole thing to cripple her determination. Planned every word and touch to do the most damage to the walls she’d been fortifying since she walked away from Brand.
“Nothing has changed except the knowledge in your head, Lunara,” he murmured. “You know you’re the Keeper now. So what? You were the Keeper the day before finding out, too. And the month before that, and the years before that.Nothing has changed.You’re still you.”
That only made her sob harder, soaking the fine linen of his embroidered robe as she pressed her face into it.
It helped that he didn’t smell or feel like Brand, didn’t hold her with the same possessive intensity. Helped her keep just enough of her composure that she didn’t fall to her knees and curl up in a ball on the floorboards.
Even if you wanted to stay, he’d never forgive you. You left him. Rejected him. He probably hates you. Just get over it and go.
That feeling of resentment for her other half multiplied. Even if it was right, she was starting to hate it.
You’re only mad because it’s the truth and you know it.
“Come now. Nyri says we’ve got work to do.” He produced a kerchief from some hidden pocket, using it to wipe her face down, then pinched it around her nose. “Blow. Go on, I can take it.”
A pathetic, half-hearted scoff gurgled out of her, but she couldn’t possibly?—
“I’ve wiped worse snot than yours, Lunara. Get on with it.”
Are you serious?
She blew her nose as hard as she could, as much out of spite as anything else.
When she was done, he dangled the cloth in front of her face, laughing. “Shite, maybe I haven’t wiped worse snot than yours. Lookat that mess!”
Sisters save her, but his teasing brought a fresh round of tears. She blinked furiously, refusing them freedom. He was right. They had work to do.
“Thank you, Magnus,” she rasped. “It changes nothing, but thank you.”
“You’re right. I believe Ijustsaid that.” He chucked her under the chin. “Glad you finally agree.”
“Wait, that’s not what I meant.”
