“Maybe, uncle, if you did not insist on being so secretive, we might be able to figure out what it istogetherand prevent anyone else from succumbing to the same fate.”
For Brand to go from flopping his mouth like a fish on land, to the seething undertone in his voice was jarring. Strangely, it made her want to reach under the table and clasp his hand, just so he would know that someone was nearby. An anchor, in his storm.
Right. And tomorrow you can go ahead and try to fly. It’s about as realistic as that barmy daydream. Which you shouldnotbe having.
Caius’s lip curled back, a spark of light catching one of his canines. “I’ve been awake for days, nephew. I’m not interested in rehashing painful history to appease your curiosity.”
“Da—”
“I said I’m not fucking interested!” The glass tankard Caius was holding shattered in his grip, shards and ale flying everywhere.
At the sight of blood and injury, Lunara transformed. Already calling power forward, she leapt up out of her seat. “You daft old beast,” she scolded, rounding the table. “Look what you’ve done to yourself. Honestly.”
Caius clenched his jaw when she took his hand, lids fluttering closed as light glowed between them. The gash in his palm knit back together, even while her own hands felt as though they were crumbling apart into flaming dust—worse, since she’d already taken a hit with Baldrir earlier this morning.
Stars above. The familiar, wretched stench of the black ooze all over him didn’t help either.
Last year, she would’ve counted Caius as a friend, of sorts. She’d never publicly claim it due to his status as an Imperial, but she’d bonded with him and Thaddeus while they’d worked together to make Meliora as comfortable as possible. He’d told her stories and shown her nothing but gratitude, and it had been easy between them with their shared goal.
It would seem that her sort-of-friend had gotten bitter in the time since she’d seen him, a dark cloud sitting on his shoulders and following him around.
It broke her heart.
When he was finally put back together, Lunara took a shaky step away, fighting tears for too many reasons to count. She moved to sit, but?—
Why is everyone staring at you?
She thought back, realizing too late that she should’ve reigned her words better and not spoken to an Imperial Son like he was a petulant child in front of them. But, for just a moment, they’d been back at her cottage and close as anything, and she’d slipped.
Then, Caius flexed his mended hand, sighing and flashing the perfectly unmarred flesh of his palm, and Lunara realized what she’d just done.
Tits. Fuck. Arse. Run.
Lunara was perilously closeto fainting. A vehement denial might work. Better than fleeing, at least. Right? Perhaps she could try and turn it around. Maybe laugh it off.
For the love of the Sisters, donotdraw more attention to yourself by cackling.
“Ach, Lunara, I… Thank you, lass.” He turned to the table at large and offered them his apologies as well, but only Thaddeus was paying any attention to him.
The father and son pair were used to her power, but the others…
Hedda leaned in to Faldir and whispered something in his ear. Lyriat was nodding with pursed lips, his eyes bouncing between Caius’s hand and hers.
“Witchling…” Magnus started, but didn’t finish. He just cocked his head to the side, as if he wasn’t quite sure which thought—or accusation—to go with first.
You knew this would happen. They’ve seen, and now they’re going to tell the Council. Araxis.
“I—”
A clatter by the portal saved Lunara from having to explain, and she could have kissed whoever it was.
First, a petite Demon appeared, scroll clenched her fist. One of the Wolflords from before followed a second later, also bearing his own roll of parchment as they raced across the distance.
“Apologies, Your Highness,” she said to Brand, handing hers over. “It was pandemonium, and I didn’t realize the Westrealm’s High Ambassador had slipped by me. I made sure to bring this back, so no other eyes would see it.”
“Don’t let it worry you, Frida. You’ve done well. Go, find Aldiat and your rest.”
With a nod, she left, dodging the other messenger.
