He’d planned to go down to his workshop, to make progress on a gift he was carving for his mother’s birthday, but maybe if he went right before the ritual and left early, it wouldn’t be too bad. And, after missing luncheon, he was exhausted to his very bones.
Right.
He could do both. He had time.
Brand scrubbed the towel over his long hair, threw it into a nearby basket, and flopped onto the mattress, melting instantly.
Twenty minutes. He’d just close his eyes for twenty minutes.
Brand dughis toes further into the crimson sand, the sea lapping at his ankles. Solyrian had dipped into its depths a few moments ago, staining the sky pink and purple, and making way for the stars to begin their shining.
The crowd roared behind him, a breeze carrying their raucous merriment straight to his ears, and he didn’t have to force his smile. His people were happy, and it filled his heart to know it.
He was just moving to stand when that singular crow from the square landed beside him, sidling up and shaking its glossy feathers. At first, he thought it meant to search the tiny holes in the outcropping for supper, but it started pecking at his legs instead.
“What the?” Brand’s voice was strangely distorted, his arms refusing to move the way he wanted them to. “Get out of here!”
He gaped when it jumped and the stone beneath him wobbled, jostling his body—before it leapt into his lap,barked at him,and drew a tongue like wet sandpaper across his face.
Brand jolted awake with a curse, cheek wet beneath his palm. Blinking into the darkness, he was met with two huge, golden eyes, Pet’s huffing breaths wafting in the space between them.
“Damn it.”
A soft growl was the only warning he had before a giant maw was wrapped around his torso.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Brand warned, grabbing a fistful of flaxen fur. “I’m awake. There’s no need to?—”
He was not the least bit surprised when the arsehole tossed him clear to the balcony.
“Mangy prick!” he shouted, blood boiling as he stomped back inside.
It was nearly impossible to see, but Brand swung a fist anyway.
There was a flash just before his blow connected, a calloused hand shoving him backwards.
“I tried, you wee shite.” The deep and rumbling chuckle that followed only served to fuel Brand’s ire. “By the time you came to, I’d already promised Pet his fun.”
“Oh, of course. Thank the Sisters the beastie’s needs have been met!” He made his way towards the washroom. “Anything else before I have a piss?”
A massive arm came out of nowhere and snaked itself around his neck, knuckles digging into his scalp to violently ruffle his hair. “Aye. I’ve not had my own fun yet.”
Brand gritted his teeth against the chokehold, but struggling was futile when he was this damned tired. Besides, Magnus was even bigger than him—a downright colossal brute, and probably the only creature in all of Bordoroth who could get away with calling him aweeanything.
“Ach, come on!” Magnus bellowed. “You’re not even trying!”
Brand snarled as black spots began to crowd his vision, fighting to pull air into his lungs. Mag had caught him on the wrong day, and he suddenly didn’t give a starry shite that this Thodeleborian had yet to dress after his shift and was naked as the day he was born.
“Fine. Just remember… that you… asked for it.”
Brand cranked his arm and struck, an explosiveoof!sounding before the booming thud of Mag hitting the floor like a felled tree.
Cheap elbow shots aimed right for the groin will do that to some people.
Stumbling backwards, Brand crashed into the bed frame, gasping and coughing as the blood rushed back to his head. He reached out and called to the stone, finally brightening the room enough that he could focus on his intruder.
A Wolflord through and through, tattoos in various patterns and symbols covered nearly every inch of Mag’s tanned skin, his face the only part of him that was clear of the black ink. Rings of silver cascaded down his ears to match the ones in his nose and chest, beads of the same woven into the braids that kept his long, blond hair swept back on the sides.
A few stray waves had fallen across Mag’s face to tangle in his teeth and beard as his mouth gaped on a silent scream and—writhing on the ground, with the light glinting off of every decorative bit of metal—his older brother looked like a glittering, hairy worm having the worst day of its life.
