Some of the fury trickled out of him, a thread of guilt weaving its way in. “Mag?—”
“No.” He raised a hand. “You’re right. I’ll get my things.” Magnus only made it a few steps before he stopped, not quite looking back over his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you hurt, so I’m warning you now—until I’m sure of her, my only interest is in protecting you. Even if you hate me for it.”
With that, he left, taking the same path through the practice field as Lunara had.
“So, that went well,” Hedda said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Brand slumped on a burdened sigh, rubbing at his temples as he reverted to his usual size. “Not in the fucking least.”
“You have feelings for her, then?” she asked quietly. “Truly?”
“I…” He huffed a laugh, entirely unamused. “Fully raging on you the other night didn’t spell it out clearly enough?”
Hedda looked away, thoughtful. “There’s a lot of reasons you might’ve done so, but none as serious as what Magnus is implying.”
“As you are also now implying.”
She drew herself up straighter but said nothing.
He wasn’t ready to give voice to his inkling. He’d just punched his own brother in the face over it. Hedda sure as shite wouldn’t be hearing it first.
Brand pulled his shoulders back, trying to ease the tension creeping in. “Portal. One hour,” he said, already walking away. “Bring your brother.”
Solyrian’s effectin Straelon had made Lunara feel wild. Like she could run across the crimson sand with her arms spread wide or sprint through the dappled forests with reckless abandon.
In Thodelebor, it was cozy. So soft and warm. Rolling hills of gold and green bathed in its rays, crops soaking up the light as they swayed in a gentle breeze. It tempted her to curl up on a hilltop amongst the tall grass, lazy and content. Made her feel safe. Hidden, somehow, like no one would ever be able to find her if she chose to run out into the towering wheat and live her days there.
But what she loved most about the sunstar, no matter where it shone, was that it chased away the shadows—the ones that lived inside and festered in the silent, tenebrous dark of the Evesong.
The dark isn’t the problem in Nachthelliae, though, is it?
No. It was the ‘ruled by murderers’ part she couldn’t stomach.
Sure? They weren’t really the ones who slaughtered your parents.
The memory struck like lightning. Blood and her father’s screams. Blackened claws embedded in her mother’s?—
No, no, no. Ignore. It’s fine. You’re fine.
Lunara forced her mind to blank, cutting the vision off before its horror could take hold, and looked up to find the group well ahead of her.
Shite.
Shaking herself, she stifled a groan and willed her legs to work faster, glad for the distraction of movement despite her exhaustion.
The strange time difference meant they’d skipped the night hours, their trek beginning in the Westrealm’s next early morning, and the nearest portal was quite a distance from Glynmor.
More than ever, she was grateful for Nyri’s gifts of blood. The young Demon had even thought to bring her one before their departure, and Lunara had guzzled the entire thing in her nervousness. Add in the moonlight she’d been soaking up every night and…
It’s a wonder you aren’t outshining Solyrian, you eejit. The damned well is nearly full!
Exactly. The surface of her skin was crawling over itself, humming, power teeming within her. Even so, she hadn’t seen a bed in too long, and her bones knew it.
“Don’t make me come back there to prod you along, Sorcerit!” Hedda shouted, throwing a judgmental glare over her shoulder. “If I have to scout the village after sunset, I’ll make sure eggs are the only food you eat for our entire stay.”
Lunara barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the barking commander.
The worn, gravel-strewn path fell with the landscape, and she let the small hill carry her body quicker, the fields of grain and wildflowers whizzing by.
