Not when he would never be Matched to anyone again. That hope had died with Soraya.
Ezer swallowed, as if there were something stuck in her throat.
And that distant, raging fire, the one that had remained unkindled for so many months now, began to burn deep in Arawn’s belly...until he had to shift his feet to try and clear away the ache of it.
“Not quite so healing forher,” Arawn said, as he noted a bruise upon Ezer’s delicate neck. Rage poked his insides like thorns. Howdarehis brother place her in danger? Howdarethe raphon mar her like the shadow wolves did? “What with the brutal injuries that Alaris must fix, time and again.”
Because even now, he knew she was covered with more bruises hecould not see. The raphon was not gentle, and as it grew, the injuries and accidents would get worse.
He’d had a war eagle fledgling, once. He’d had every part of him broken, too.
...and because of that knowledge, he’d asked Alaris for every report about Ezer.
He’d paced in the halls when he knew she was inside the raphon’s cage...praying, begging the gods not to let the beast harm her.
Ezer was strong.
She did not need saving, not from him or any other man.
So why did every part of Arawn still want to keep her safe?
“The Raphonminder is strong,” Kinlear replied, as if he knew the thoughts brewing in Arawn’s mind. Their eyes locked. Twin gazes, twin flames of rage. An image of Soraya flashed in Arawn’s mind, and he shoved it deep down into that white castle again, where he locked up all his past pains. “She can handle it.”
That heat flared again in Arawn’s gut. It moved upwards, into his chest, into his heart where the core of his magic resided. Barely even a seed these days, and yet, when it came to her...
“May I remind you,” Arawn added, as he stepped a bit closer, not missing the way his brother’s hand tightened on Ezer’s arm, “that after she is done with you, she trainshere,in the darkness, with me.”
Gods, why had he mentioned the darkness?
It felt sensual.
It felt like he was admitting how much he longed for her body against his in those silent moments. How every part of him was set ablaze.
Kinlear’s eyes flashed with carefully controlled rage. “Learning how to protect herself better than the last you took beneath your wing, I hope.”
Arawn couldn’t help himself.
His hand curled into a fist.
Howdarehe speak of that day. He hadn’t lived it. He hadn’tfeltit. Not in Arawn’s way.
He was about to say that aloud, or perhaps let his fist speak for him, when Ezer stepped forward, releasing her grip on Kinlear’s arm.
And suddenly Arawn could breathe again.
“She,”Ezer said, “is standing right here. Between two brothers who refuse to forgive one another for a past that isneitherof their faults.That lies with Soraya alone.”
Hername.
The sound of her name on Ezer’s tongue...
It broke something loose inside of him. The walls of his castle crumbled...he quickly built them back up again as he shifted, his gaze no longer on Kinlear.
“It’s the truth,” Ezer said. “And telling it is what Sacred do.”
“Forgive me,” Arawn said, clearing his throat. This was like war, indeed. A careful dance. A balance of knowing when to stifle the rage...and when to release it. “I...don’t know what came over me.”
Kinlear, to his credit, sighed in the very dramatic way he always did, and reached out as a servant skirted past. His gloved hands curled over two goblets. One for himself, and one for Ezer...
