My eyes lock with hers. "Come with us. I need my big sister. And a certain brooding vampire needs his mate, even if he's too stoic to say it out loud."
I flash her a tipsy grin. "Besides, watching Erik try to maintain his whole 'mysterious warrior' vibe around you is better than theater."
Bryn dissolves into laughter, the mead hitting her as hard as it's hitting me. She topples into my lap, her giggles echoing off the walls. "By the Nine, he does look rather constipated when I'm near. Like he's swallowed one of Odin's ravens whole."
Unlike her, she sighs dreamily, and I almost do a double-take. "He kissed me, you know."
"HeWHAT?" The mead makes my voice hit a pitch that probably has dogs in Mortalis howling. "And you're just now sharing this juicy detail?"
Bryn's laughter only grows louder. "It was..." She pauses, pushing herself back up, her expression sobering slightly. "By the Gods, sister, of course, I'll come. These halls hold nothing but empty glory now and colder stares. I will swear an oath to you know, to stand at your side, to aid you in your quest, and I'll be damned to Hell before I break it.
She holds up a hand as I open my mouth. "But by Odin's beard, if you try to play matchmaker with that silver-haired oaf and me, I'll throw you off the highest tower in Ásgard. Let me handle this in my own time."
"Say no more." I mime, locking my lips and tossing away the key. "I won't push. Sister's honor."
And I mean it. Having Bryn agree to come with us and be part of our little misfit family? That's more than I could have hoped for. The rest will come in time.
Though I make no promises about not teasing her mercilessly about that kiss later.
What are sisters for, after all?
Erik
47
The new leather and furs scratch against my damp skin as we wait by the gate, my head still pounding from last night's foolishness. Gullfax paws at the snow, his impatient snorts creating clouds in the frigid air. The stallion shoots me a sidelong glance—after sharing his stable during my pathetic display, we've reached some understanding.
Her scent hits me first—storm winds and steel—making my chest constrict. I turn, and the world stops spinning.
Where Bryn's magnificent wing once stretched proud and strong, there's nothing. Just empty space and the rigid set of her shoulders. Her face is carved from ice, daring anyone to comment, but I see the shadows in her eyes.
Rage ignites in my veins, white-hot and blinding. My vision tunnels, the world narrowing to the space where her wing should be. Someone dared to lay hands on her, to mutilate her. Gunnar's smug face flashes through my mind—did he do this as retribution for my actions?
"Who did this to you?" The words tear from my throat, razor-edged and deadly. I'm across the courtyard before I realize I've moved, my hands clenched into fists. "I'll rip their heart out with my bare hands—"
Dani's hand on my arm stops me. The look in her eyes—a mix of warning and sorrow—douses my fury like a bucket of ice water.
Bryn steps forward, her chin high despite the pain etched into every line of her body. "I did it, Erik." Her voice is steady, but I hear the fractures beneath. "I cut it off myself."
The words hit like a wrecking ball driving the air from my lungs. "Why?" It comes out as a broken whisper, my mind reeling. "Why would you...?"
She meets my gaze, unflinching. "It was a reminder of my failure, Erik. A constant shadow hanging over me." Her jaw tightens, but I catch the slight tremor in her voice. "That wing was a constant reminder of what I couldn't be, what I was denied. Now..." She straightens her shoulders despite the cost evident in her eyes. "Now I decide who I am. Not fate. Not destiny. Not evenyou."
Her shoulder slams into mine as she pushes past, the impact barely registering through the numbness spreading in my chest. My eyes bore into the snow at my feet, unseeing. The image of her severing her wing plays on repeat in my mind, each iteration more horrific than the last. What depths of self-loathing must she harbor to mutilate herself so?
Dani's touch barely penetrates the haze, her fingers feather-light on my arms. "Don't give up, Erik." Her voice sounds distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears. "She just... needs time. To adjust to all this."
I manage a nod, the motion mechanical. My heart constricts, each beat a painful squeeze. Bryn, with her warrior's spirit and unbreakable will, loyalty, and fierce protectiveness... How can she not see her own worth? That she would go to such lengths to excise a part of herself...
The mate bond throbs like an open wound, each pulse a reminder of her rejection. What more can I give when the first denial nearly broke me? The memory of collapsing in that stable, my soul screaming in agony, is still raw.
Dani's eyes find mine, a silent plea in their golden depths. She knows what's at stake—not just for me, but for Bryn. For the bond that could save or destroy us both.
Rhyland's gaze bores into me, steel blue and unyielding. They need me to be strong, put aside my fears, and fight for what the Fates have ordained.
Resolve hardens in my gut, chasing away the numbness. I won't let her shatter under the weight of her demons—not like I did. I'll be the shield at her back, the sword in her hand until she remembers her own strength.
"Right then!" Baldr's voice rings with artificial cheer. "Shall we proceed?"
