Brand snatched up the piece of parchment, Hedda and Faldir on their feet in an instant and scanning the contents over his shoulder.
Hedda’s face twisted with disbelief. “They want the Fourth Imperial Son to come and dig ditches?”
“I believe it saysaditch,” Caius said.
She scrunched her brow and reread the message.
“And stone walls along the chasm edge!” she screeched, reaching around Brand to jab her finger into the paper
Magnus ran a hand through his blond hair. “Glynmor is a trial, to see if we can cultivate more places. The Westrealm is struggling to keep up with demand, so we’ve started to spread out into the land that had been left for the birds and beasties to thrive.”
Faldir’s face pinched. “What does that have to do with walls and ditches?”
“The walls are for the children, to keep them safe. Glynmor is less than a mile from the drop there. The ditch is to reroute part of the nearby Westriver and get a supply of water to the high fields behind the village—fields that grow your bloody damned food, you sour wee shite.”
“And how do you know that?” Faldir crossed his arms, brow arching. “There are no specifics here.”
“Glynmor was his idea. He’s the one who designed the plans and stages,” Caius said, his voice thoughtful. “I’m surprised he’s never mentioned it.”
The statement had Brand’s head snapping up in his brother’s direction.
“Ach, calm yourself.” Magnus waved him away. “I didn’t say anything because I wanted to see if it would all work out first. I didnotknow they’d already arranged to ask for your help.”
“If it’s your project, why would they put it to Caius and not you?”
Magnus gestured at Caius. “High Ambassador.” He pointed to himself. “Ambassador Apparent. Think you can work that out on your own, Fal, or do you need it explained in shorter sentences and smaller words?”
Trails of light flashed over Faldir’s skin as he snarled. He took a step forward, but drew up short when Lyriat raised a silencing hand.
“Regardless,” he said with a pointed look at Faldir, “I am failing to understand how this relates to the message from Baldrir.”
Caius huffed. “The message sounds like the riddled ramblings of a lunatic. I wouldn’t pay it too much heed.”
Hedda pulled herself up straight. “It is unwise to ignore such things.” Her voice was hard, unyielding. “Especially under the circumstances.”
“Perhaps I should clarify.” Caius took his seat again and stole Magnus’s ale. “Bring however many you think are needed to stay safe. Guard your backs and be alert. But you shouldn’tworryabout it.”
Hedda scoffed, shaking her head at him like he was a hopeless fool.
“Ach, lass. I swear, all of you make me feel old as the fucking land itself.” Caius looked genuinely exhausted when he flopped back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t tell me you actually think this is the first strife Bordoroth has ever seen.”
“What are you trying to say?” Hedda hissed, her horns curling.
“That you’re practically wee bairns, and I’m being woefully reminded of it. Listen”—He rested his elbows on the tabletop and pinned her with a sympathetic look—“this sort of thing has been going on for longer than our books have history for, and will continue to go on long after we’re all dead in the ground. Our lot in life is to handle it as it comes while seeing to our duties, aye? I’m sorry for Baldrir. I’m damned fucking sick over Fausta. But, in some ways, sadly, it just is what it is and life has to move on.”
Hedda crossed her arms and looked away, jaw ticking.
“You don’t…” All eyes went to Thaddeus, slumped back in his chair and legs sprawled before him. “You don’t think this is to do with the Prophecy, do you?”
Lunara couldn’t help the frisson of fear that ran through her, even while the others chuckled—all except Caius.
In a moment of superstitious weakness, they’d once speculated about that very thing while his mate slowly wasted away in the next room. Useless nonsense, in the end, but they’d been exhausted and running out of more optimistic theories.
Which was probably why Caius was looking at her when he softly said, “Nay, lad. This is the same old shite. We’ll all know without a kernel of doubt if the Shadow Prophecy ever actually comes into play.”
Lunara hadto get out of the Montrealm.
She’d done her duty as a healer. Baldrir was good as new, barring any damage to his psyche, but that sort of care wasn’t included within the scope of her capabilities.
