Our father dragged a hand through his beard, his gaze raking over Aldric with detached fury. “Fine,” he spat, and left the room.
A trembling breath left my brother as he nodded once, a small, broken gesture that cracked something open inside me. My heart clenched painfully.
I moved before thought could catch up.
Aldric met me halfway, a choked sound breaking from him as he pulled me into his arms.
“You’re alive,” he whispered, squeezing me tighter as if to check. “Gods, you look so strong Lyra.”
Strong. Not beautiful. Not an object. Not broken.
I could feel the Commander’s curiosity pulsing through the bond, but he didn’t interrupt. I let go of Aldric, smoothing the wrinkles I had made in his pressed white shirt. Leave it to him to be able to travel and still not have one golden hair out of place.
His warm brown eyes took me in, filling with grief. “Lyra?—”
“It’s okay, Al,” I reassured him with a soft smile. None of it was his fault, and in some ways, he was trapped in the same gilded cage that I had been.
“Come, there are people I want you to meet.” I grabbed his hand and turned towards the Commander. “This is my brother, Aldric.” My brother smiled wearily at the Commander, extending his hand. I didn’t miss the slight tremble in his movements as the Commander reached out to shake it.
“You did not protect her the way a brother should,” the Commander said darkly.
“A mistake I have made myself bleed for every day since she ran away. Scar for scar.” Aldric unbuttoned his shirt, turning his back to us and lowering it. I gasped, hand fluttering to my mouth. Large scars ran along his back. Some were puckered, and others were gashes that still oozed between fresh sutures.
“I paid the priest to carve my skin as he did yours.” Aldric redressed silently, grief and guilt written in the lines of his shoulders.
“Your scars do not absolve you.” The Commander’s voice cut deeper than any wound in his flesh.
Aldric closed his eyes in a pained acceptance. “I know,” he whispered. “But I would carve ten thousand more if it meant she hadn’t felt a single blade.”
Something inside me twisted sharply. I reached out, touching Aldric’s arm. “Hurting yourself will not change the past.” His gaze lifted, raw and vulnerable. “It’s now that counts.”
“They are going to try to steal you, Lyra. They think the monsters are the Gods punishing us for letting you live. They want to sacrifice you.”
A shiver slid down my spine. It was almost exactly what Riven had told us, but hearing my brother defy my father to tell me made it real.
“We already know,” Riven said in a singsong voice from where he leant against the wall.
“Well then, suppose I have just promised myself a death sentence for nothing.”
“Stay in Lumireth with me,” I said. The Commander nodded once in approval.
“I would love to,” Aldric said hesitantly, warmth shining in his eyes.
“Solas,” the Commander said, “get Prince Aldric settled in the southern wing and post a guard.” He turned back to me, his voice softening. “Come, Little Drownling. We have a wedding to prepare for.”
Forty-Three
Preparation
We have a wedding to prepare for...
The words rang in my ears as we walked through corridors bustling with staff and people of the court. The Commander’s hand never left the small of my back as he guided me through the high-arched corridor. His touch was light, but the intent behind it was not. I could feel his possessiveness radiating down the bond, and judging by the heat in his eyes, he could feel mine pushing right back at him.
“You are going to be my husband…” I murmured, a flutter of nerves shooting through my stomach.
“Iloveweddings,” Riven called from where he walked with Cerilla behind us. The Commander glared over his shoulder before wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“My mark sits on your hand, tethering yoursoulto mine. But it is a ring that makes you nervous?” he said with amusement.
