“Brogan?” Urian, Blaise, and Falcyn spoke in unison.
Brandor gaped at Medea. “How could you tell?”
She gestured at the two of them. “It’s obvious. You look just alike. And while she hugged you, it wasn’t what one would give to a boyfriend or lover. It was definitely familial. Are you twins?”
Brogan finally stepped away from him. She cast a sheepish glance toward Blaise. “Aye. I told you it could have been much worse. My brother’s life makes a mockery of mine and my sisters’ combined. To protect me from their fate, Bran gave up the bulk of his powers at puberty—transferred them to me so that I’d be stronger and have more value.”
Sadness darkened Brandor’s eyes. “I’ve been trying to help Ro for a long time. But Morgen can’t abide Deathseers in her Circle or the fey court. And as Ro said, I have little power left. The moment I heard you’d been pulled into her realm, I knew this was the only shot we’d ever have of helping each other, and getting her free.”
“So what news do you have to share?” Medea wanted to keep him on point and not let him wander to inconsequential details.
“Morgen has made a pact with the god Apollo. They’re after the goddess Apollymi and intend to use her army of Charonte to kill Acheron and take over Myddangeard and Olympus.”
That was all well and good, except for one thing.
Her people.
“And the Daimons protecting Apollymi?”
“Apollo has sent a plague to kill them and the gallu to punish them for their rebellion against him.”
Well, that explained the foreign illness that was tearing through their ranks. No wonder they couldn’t fight it off. Damn her grandfather for it! Was he never to grow a heart and leave them in peace?
“Why do they want my stone?” Falcyn asked.
“It’s the only thing that can stop them. The gallu need a dragonstone to repair your brother’s tablet. Apparently, Hadyn’s treasure is a key of some sort they need to free their dimme sisters.”
The expression on Falcyn’s face said there was much more to it than that, but he didn’t comment. “Yeah, well, they can rot.” He shook his head. “I’m not about to help any of them.”
Brandor gave him an arch stare. “Not even to save your own sister?”
That cold steel hatred returned to Falcyn’s eyes, and it made Medea’s blood run cold. “Don’t go there.”
Brandor glanced to Brogan. “I would never taunt anyone with such a cruelty. Family should never be used as a bartering tool. But it’s what they will hold over you and use against you if you don’t do what they want. It’s why I told Ro to bring you here. I know where Sarraxyn is, and I will take you to her before they hurt her to get to you.”
“For what price?”
He took his sister’s hand. “You’ve already paid it. You freed my sister from her realm and brought her to me so that I can protect her from her master. I’ll help you free yours from hers. It’s the least I can do.”
Blaise shook his head. “Bullshit. I don’t believe you.”
Brogan’s cheeks brightened with color. “You can trust him, Blaise. He’s a good man.”
“I don’t trust anyone who beds down with Morgen.”
“Says the mandrake who served the Kerrigan?” Urian cocked a sarcastic brow.
Finally quelled, Blaise cleared his throat. “Okay… valid point taken.”
Urian sighed as he cast his gaze around each of them. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone in this group can judge another for their past deeds.”
Medea didn’t comment on that. Mostly because he was right. All of them had served evil at some point.
Of course, she and Brogan were the only two who continued to do so.
But still…
“This is all well and good, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that Urian and I aren’t here on a vacation. I need your dragonstone, Falcyn. There’s still the matter of the plague that’s spreading through my people. I can’t watch my parents and best friend die. I’ve had enough of death and I don’t want any more of it.”
