Lyriat closed the short distance between them, Brand clenching his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn’t shatter.
“This is rather fortunate,” Lyriat said, voice hushed though his grin was practically beaming. “I was coming to find you.”
He bore Lyriat no ill will. Truly. Brand had no claim on the Sorcerit’s attention, and it was his own fault he’d missed an opportunity.
So why couldn’t he stop staring at her door, wishing he could turn back time and do it over? Do it right, and get here first, and not be such a fool.
Lyriat was oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I have good news,” he said, clapping Brand on the shoulder.
Weeping fuck. The only way this could possibly get worse was if Lyriat was about to tell him that Lunara was his mate.Why else would he be smiling from ear to ear? The realization crushed him because, if she was his, then?—
Fuck. He couldn’t even go there.
He only looked up long enough to see that Lyriat was staring at her door as well, a furrow between his brows.
Pining?
Lyriat turned back and tilted his head. “You know, it’s not at all what you’re thinking.”
“I’m sorry, but how could you have any bloody idea what I was thinking?”
Lyriat blinked once, and then threw his head back and laughed.
Brand couldn’t remember ever hitting Lyriat in anger, but his greater half was stirring beneath the surface of his skin, begging for the chance.
Maybe that’s what he needed. A solid rage. To call out his greatsword and hack shite apart until he felt absolutely nothing but an overwhelming desire to go to sleep.
“Brand, aside from the fact that I know how exceptionally talented your mind is at cooking up utter nonsense, your face says it all.” Lyriat shook his head. “I visited Lunara in order to secure her services for your trip to the Westrealm.”
That was about as far from what he’d assumed as it could get.
“What? Why?”
Lyriat sighed, pulling him further down the corridor. “I don’t feel good about it, for obvious reasons, and I don’t want you to find yourselves in any unexpected situations without a capable Sorcerit.”
Brand didn’t feel particularly good about it either, not with that message hanging over him.
Then again, it was his brother’s own project and their request made sense. If not for the mystery surrounding Baldrir’sabduction and torture, none of them would have thought anything of it.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s a farming village, Lyriat. What could possibly happen?”
“No idea. Which is probably what bothers me. Between Bal and the timing of the letter from Glynmor, something is off. I can feel it in my gut, Brand. Trust me.”
“Alright, fine.” He said the words but couldn’t find even a fragment of himself that believed them.
Traveling. With Lunara. When he couldn’t even knock on her door.
The Sisters had it out for him, surely.
“Now, I will leave you to finish whatever it was you were trying to start, with the knowledge that I’m in full support of you spending the evening with her, instead of alone. Good luck.”
With that, Lyriat spun and made his way towards the great hall.
While Brand stood there facing the same fucking dilemma as before.
Lunara pacedin front of the cold fireplace, a lock of hair twisted between her fingers. The shadows in her room were getting longer and, if she weren’t so distracted, she would’ve enjoyed watching Solyrian move, trying to gauge how the light correlated with the time. How darkness was a signal of true evening, of relaxing, and not the constant, somber state of things.
As soon as Lyriat had left, she’d gulped down every drop of the blood gift he’d brought her, excitement clouding her judgement. She hadn’t needed that much. Her aches had been minor, and she’d used little power in relation to the last gift.
