After so long with no contact from him, Mareth and I had concluded that Pharis was lost to us forever, killed on that tragic day in the arena along with so many others.
Though we’d been in conflict there at the end, his absence from my life had left a gaping hole behind. I regretted my part in fracturing our relationship, especially after having time to consider some of the choices I’d made.
But if Pharis really was alive, where had he been all this time? Injured and recovering somewhere from dragonfire?
Or was this an imposter, assuming my brother’s identity for some nefarious purpose?
“Tell them to bring him to me immediately,” I instructed the boy, and he ran from the room.
I paced the floor in front of the throne, waiting for my soldiers to bring me the man claiming to be my brother.
Someone else might mistake his identity, but I would not. If it was a pretender, daring to impersonate my lost?—
The throne room doors opened. The second I saw him, I knew.
Forgetting any sense of dignity and kingly decorum, I ran to him, pushing through the soldiers surrounding Pharis to embrace him.
“Brother,” I exclaimed. “Where have you been? I’m overjoyed to see you.”
He gave me a wan smile. “Stellon. You look well. Kingship agrees with you.”
His lack of exuberance surprised me, but perhaps he’d been injured in the dragon attack after all. Pharis might have been to Hell and back since the last time we’d laid eyes on each other.
“Come, sit,” I urged, leading him to one of the chairs along the wall. I took the one beside him, leaning in.
“Tell me what has happened to you. I’ll send for Mareth.”
I turned to speak to one of my men, but Pharis put a hand on my arm. “No, don’t. You might want to hear my story first.”
Was it too awful for our sister to hear?
Mareth wasn’t a weak woman, but still, I did as Pharis asked and put out a staying hand to my man. I was getting a bad feeling.
“Tell me then,” I said. “We didn’t part on the best of terms, but I’ll do my best to understand.”
Pharis shook his head. “You won’t understand. But I’ll tell you anyway.”
Before he got the chance, another page entered the throne room, looking as wild-eyed and excited as the boy who’d announced Pharis’ arrival.
“A woman is here, Your Majesty,” he said. “She says her name is Raewyn and that you’ll want to see her right away.”
Popping up from my chair, I cried, “Raewyn? Yes, bring her in at once.”
And then that vague bad feeling solidified, turning black and moldy inside my chest, souring the sudden joy I’d felt at hearing her name.
First Pharis, now Raewyn.
The two of them.
Showing up on the same day, minutes apart. After being missing for months.
I looked back down at Pharis, who sat with his head bowed.
“You were… together?” I asked. “She was alive all this time—and withyou?”
He lifted his head, appearing exhausted from the effort.
“Yes,” was all he said.
