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“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I ask again—do you really want to do this now?”

No. He didn’t.

“Peace, then, until it’s done. Afterwards will be another matter.” Brand dropped Araxis, plucked Fern up, and set her back on his shoulder. “Show us.”

Araxis brushed himself off and pulled a tiny bottle from the ether, presenting it to the Fae. “This will not restore your flight, but it will erase your pain indefinitely and renew some energy.”

Fern narrowed her eyes on the swirling orange liquid, then Araxis. “Hand that up, twig dick.”

“Fern.” Mag’s tone was warning and wary at once. “Are you sure you want to trust that?”

She scowled at him for a second. “Hmm. Listen to Pet, Magnus.”

Mag recoiled as Fern grabbed the vial from Brand and threw the potion back. She instantly melted, her skin regaining some of its richness, the gold dust less subdued.

“Congratulations, shit licker,” she said to Araxis. “You’ve just made me that much more dangerous. Now do as he says and take us to Lunara.”

“No. Only Brand may come, and only after she’s in place.”

“What?” Mag and Fern hissed in unison.

Brand stopped the cursing Fae from throwing herself at his youngest brother again, but barely.

Araxis sighed, shaking his head. “Brand isn’t even technically allowed in her vicinity, but I took steps to ensure it won’t be a problem because we’ll need his help.”

Something about that settled ill in his gut, though Brand couldn’t say why.

“His blood,” Mag said, his brow pinching. “You took it for this?”

A muscle ticking in Araxis’s jaw was the only answer.

“What blood?” Brand asked, impatience choking him.

“Yours, but that’s for another time. I’m assuming he can’t say why.” Magnus scrubbed a hand down his face. “Which I’m sure we’ll finally learn about the hard way.”

“Let’s hope not.” Araxis gestured for them to follow, leading them to one of the very balconies they’d been avoiding. Leaning over the railing, he pointed down through the endless atrium. “Do you see that?”

Brand’s gaze followed the gesture down a few levels to a glowing gallery on the opposite side, various creatures mingling around the brightly lit entrance beyond. “What of it?”

“That is the Observation Deck for the Council and Elders, and any other important guests who attend—like Imperials. Amun and Vann are already there. You’ve never been to this particular party, Brand, since Nachthelliae’s last viable Occurrence happened before we were born. Magnus, on the other hand, has attended and should remember it’s quite a formal affair.”

Mag scoffed. “Ach, I was a lad. What do you want from me, Axie?”

“For you and Fern to be yourselves and make it somewhat less formal.” Araxis produced a ridiculously ostentatious version of the traditional Wolflord robe, as well as an olive gown for Fern. “Put these on, create enough of a stir that most on the Deck are not looking up when they usually would be, and don’t call me Axie.”

Fern jumped down and snatched hers away, holding it up. “How the fuck am I supposed to use my legs in this? It’s going to be trailing on the floor.”

“Good,” Araxis said. “It can cover up those hideous boots.”

Fern gasped. “I’ll have you know that I stole these from Lunara, and she told me they came from here, so whose fault is it that they’re hideous, eh? Also they’re not and I love them and you’re a saggy pixie tit.”

Mag, in true Thodeleborian fashion, stripped down and put his new robe on without a care in the world, shrugging his massive shoulders to settle it. “Do you need help taking your wee dress off first, lass? Your wing⁠—”

“Is fine. And fuck no.”

Fern threw the gown over the one she had on. Of course, it immediately got caught on her drooping wing, and Magnus had to help her—which she grumbled about the entire time. As soon as she was in it, she bent, gripped the hem with both hands, and rent the fabric all the way to her upper thigh.

A muscle twitched under Araxis’s eye and he waved his hand, her original bandeau dress appearing in his grip. He sent the offending garment away, another waggle of his fingers mending the torn threads so the vent she made was neat, as if it was there all along. “Show some respect, Fae. There are standards in the Evesong, and this is our most sacred event.”