“But you’ll see that the elf leaves,” Lykor ordered, punctuating the point with a sharp jab of his sword. “We don’t need more mouths to feed.”
Kal scoffed humorlessly, his blade catching Lykor’s with a quick twist of his wrist. “Since youdisposedof all the reavers, I think we can spare the resources.” He cocked his head, drawing back to rest his sword over his shoulder. “Speaking of, where exactly did you send them?”
Aesar hummed in agreement.That is a good question.
Lykor had entombed that knowledge behind the obsidian doors in his mind—a fortress of darkness Aesar wouldn’t dare breach. Nightmares festered there, the rotting remnants of their imprisonment.
“The reavers aren’t our problem anymore.” Lykor’s lip curled at the memory of where he’d sent those bloodthirsty fools. They had wanted a fight, so he’d ensured they got one. “That’s all you need to concern yourself with.”
Kal pressed his lips into a thin line, but he didn’t argue further. “Get cleaned up,” he clipped, sheathing his sword at his side. “I’ll meet you in the war room.”
Lykor’s eyes narrowed as the urge to dismiss Kal’s command simmered—no one ordered him around, least of allKal. But leaving his captain to scheme unchecked with Vesryn and Marawas a risk he refused to take. He could already picture the chaos their combined meddling would unleash—an unholy trinity poised to fuck up his carefully laid plans for his peoples’ exodus.
Kal raised a hand to his chest, extracting a small orb of shimmering Essence. He arched a taunting brow before extending it to Lykor. “So you can open a portal and save us the hassle of warping—”
Lykor moved before Kal finished, snatching the orb. The radiant magic pulsed in his palm as he crushed it in his fist, the miniscule offering trickling into his Well.
He shoved the hilt of his sword into Kal’s chest with enough force to stagger him, then tore open a rift to his sleeping chambers. Without sparing his captain another glance, Lykor stormed through, slamming the portal shut behind him before Kal could follow.
Aesar shook his head.You’re such a prick.
I’M JUST FOLLOWING HIS ORDERS,he shot back.
Ah yes,Aesar drawled,because you’re the pinnacle of compliance.
Lykor ignored Aesar’s commentary, shrugging out of his armor and tugging on a loose tunic and trousers. He stalked to the mirror, scowling at the mess reflected back at him. Knotted midnight strands spilled across his shoulders—a fitting crown for his frustration.
YOU STILL WON’T LET ME CUT IT?
Nope.Aesar glided his fingers through his silvery hair in their mindscape—he preferred to appear in his original form—a pristine reflection of his twin.
Lykor muttered a curse as he shed his gauntlet. He retrieved a comb, yanking it through the tangles. He tried to plait the upper portion, but the fingers of his claw fumbled, clumsy and ill-suited for this unfamiliar task. Each failed attempt ignited hisfrustration further, his jaw threatening to crack as he gritted his teeth.
With a snarl, Lykor hurled the comb behind him, his heaving breaths fogging the glass. Even his fucking hair defied him, mocking him with a twisted mess.
Digging his fists into his eyes, Lykor clenched his fangs before asking,A LITTLE HELP?
Arching a brow, Aesar’s voice dripped with amusement.Since when do you braid your hair?
SINCE NEVER AND NOW I KNOW WHY I DON’T BOTHER.
Aesar rose from the couch, folding his arms as he hovered in the library’s atrium, patiently waiting for Lykor’s inevitable surrender.
Lykor’s shoulders twitched, every muscle recoiling against the decision. But the stubborn knots left him no choice. With a resigned sigh, he released the tension in his arms and let go.
The tingling sensation started at his fingertips, a warm rush sweeping up his arms as Aesar reached through him. The shift was seamless, as though the muscles were never his at all.
Aesar dove in fully, pulling their arms up to their scalp. Their fingers deftly flowed through the strands with a grace Lykor could never hope to master as Aesar wove their hair into an intricate plait.
Concerned about your appearance? That’s new.Aesar twisted their mouth into a smirk in the mirror, the thin braid a glaring display of his superior skill.Hoping to see a certain elf?
Lykor snarled, wrenching control back to tie off the hair with a leather strap.IF I SEE HIM AGAIN, HE’S DEAD.
Aesar’s low chuckle was a knowing challenge.You can lie to yourself all you want but—
But Lykor wasn’t listening. He rammed Aesar back into a corner in his library, slamming the doors behind him.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he ripped open a portal to the war room, using the last dregs of Essence from Kal.
