Dancer’s eyes darkened with sadness. “The anchors and belay failed.”
“Who was lead?”
“Your father.”
Tears filled Darice’s eyes. “Is that why you cut the rope?”
Bastien caught his slack jaw before it dropped as he realized that Darice was the son of Keris Hauk, who’d been killed right here.
For a moment, he thought he was the one who was going to hurl as he remembered the guilt and pain Fain carried over that event. The death of his older brother and near loss of his younger brother that fate-filled day was something Fain had never gotten over.
Until now, Bastien hadn’t made the connection, and his respect for Dancer coming here again for his nephew increased exponentially. Damn, Dancer had to hate this place with a passion. And he had to love Darice even more.
Dancer winced. “I didn’t cut the rope, Darice. I didn’t have my hands free to do it.”
He scowled. “I don’t understand.”
Dancer clenched his teeth. “We fell because your father hit me before I could finish tying in to the belay station. I slipped and the anchors failed until we were down to only one. I was inverted, attempting to right myself and hold on with one hand, while I was trying to steady Keris with the other.” He showed Darice the scars he had from the rope burns. “My knot was coming undone and the last anchor was slipping. We both knew what was about to happen. Even so, I didn’t stop trying to hold on for both of us. Next thing I knew, Keris pulled out his knife and sliced through the rope before I could stop him so that at least one of us would survive.”
Darice fingered the scars on Hauk’s hands. “You really didn’t cut it.”
“I would have died before I cut my brother loose.”
Bastien had felt the same way about Quin. While they might have fought more than they ever got along, he’d have gladly died so that Quin could live. Every breath he took knowing it came at the expense of his brother and sister was absolute hell. The only thing worse than the grief was the guilt. If he lived to be a thousand years old, he’d never understand why he’d been spared his death sentence.
Surely the gods had intended him to be here for some higher purpose. Other than to torture him with the horror of it all. He refused to believe he’d been spared because of random luck.
He had to buy into that in order to get up in the morning and not blow his brains out. Right or wrong, he firmly believed he was here to see justice met. For his family. There could be no other reason that made sense.
Bastien met Dancer’s gaze and they both knew that in this pain and misery, they were bonded brothers. Each one trying to find his way while lost in the guilted hell of their pasts.
Darice wrapped his hands around his uncle’s scars. “You were my age when it happened.”
“A few months older.”
He threw himself into Dancer’s arms. “I won’t fall, Uncle Dancer.”
“I know you won’t, Dare. And don’t let Sumi fall, either.”
Darice inclined his head to him. “I’ll bring you back a feather since you didn’t get one when you came.”
Dancer ruffled his hair. “Deal.” He handed Darice his climbing helmet.
Sumi offered Dancer a bittersweet smile as he met her gaze. “We’ll be very safe. I just need to get him a feather to prove he made the climb and return here, correct?”
He nodded. “Remember, the sparn will attack if she thinks you’re going after her nest.”
“Don’t worry. You rest and we’ll be back before you can even miss us.”
Dancer scoffed at her words. “Not possible. I miss you already.”
Thia came running to hand her bright pink helmet to Sumi, and a pair of sport sunglasses. “Good luck. Try not to strangle Darice.”
Darice glared at her as he fastened his helmet on.
Bastien bit back a grin. For them to not be siblings, the two acted as if they’d shared a room since birth. And he could see the love they had for one another beneath those barbs they traded. If anyone threatened Darice, Thia would be the first one to gut them.
“Thanks, Thia. You’ll take good care of the guys while I’m gone, right?” Sumi fastened her helmet before Dancer rechecked her harness and sling.
