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“You would submit your Imperial standing to our Blessed Keeper?” Araxis asked over the growing din of whispers. “Diminish yourself thusly, in favor of her, despite the fact that she is not of your realm?”

Brand released the rage, reverting back to his lesser self. Spreading his arms wide, he turned in a slow circle. Only then did she notice the orb fox from the woods clinging to his back and shoulder, glowing eyes squinting and focused, and she stifled a giggle.

Another flourish of his body, and Brand’s greatsword manifested in his hand, Solyrian’s light piercing the gloom of the amphitheater. He twirled it over head, and again, and the onyx floor of the Hollow began to follow its motion, a whirlpool of black and crystal shards stirring around him. Once more, Brand went seamlessly through the change, rising up into his rage like the wave he was calling. Higher and higher, until he loosed an ear-splitting roar and plunged the sword into the still ground at his feet.

The stone flew outwards in five hundred and seventeen directions, threading perfectly above and in between the Council and Elders before freezing.

Shitting stars and arses.

Resting inches from every last chest in the amphitheater—even Araxis’s—was a razor sharp spike, rotating slowly on an invisible axis.

It happened so fast. No one moved, not a twitch or sigh, their shock palpable. The center of the Hollow was little more than a crater, only two pillars left behind for him and Vann to stand on.

Oh…my…

“Council member, Elder tier, it matters not. If it were up to me, you would all be dead so that I might free my blessed mate. From what you’ve done to her. From what you are. From all you stand for.” He shook his head and went to his knees again, piercing her with a devoted gaze. “Consider yourselves most fortunate, then, that you are held in her gentle hands and not my own. That she somehow found her way to forgiveness, instead of killing you herself. She has a far kinder heart than I. So, yes”—his gaze landed on Araxis—“I submit to Lunara the Moonweaver. Gladly.”

A jerk of his chin and the shards rushed back to their places, refilling the arena in the blink of an eye. Like it never happened.

Lunara was stuck to her seat. Stars above, she was so fucking proud of him that she hardly knew what to do with it. No bounds to her awe and appreciation. No limit to her admiration.

She sent it all down the bond, feeling him so acutely in return. How far he’d come.

“His Highness brings up some excellent points,” Cordelia mused, running her fingers down the length of her white braid. “Now that I think about it, the Evesong has never once witnessed a true mating between her Blessed Keeper and an Imperial. So passionately devoted, too. Indeed, our Lunara is perhaps the greatest we’ve ever had, by virtue of that most sacred pairing and her own inherent power.” Her brows punched up. “I never realized how much favor the Sisters have shown her. What they might be trying to show us through her. His Highness, Brandir, has given us much to think about and deliberate.”

Cordelia leaned forward to address Lunara directly, dipping her chin. “With your permission, Blessed Keeper, I would like to call a pause on this gathering so that we, the Council, might discuss our revelations more appropriately.”

Lunara almost missed her wink, the sly creature.

“Please.” Lunara stood and brushed her skirts down. “I would not wish to intrude or make anyone uncomfortable. Your privacy, and confidence therein, is important. I shall be in my chambers if or when I am needed.”

She misted down to Brand and took hold of his crown of horns, yanking him a little closer just for fun before whisking them away.

Brand had regained so much of his control that he was able to release the rage mid-trip through the ether, and Lunara found herself with the Lesser when they materialized in her quarters.

Still on his knees. Still feeding her his emotions through the bond.

It was almost too much.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered, giving him a pull.

He refused to stand at first. Instead, Brand peeled the fox from himself and set it on the ground, gave its bottom a pat to send it on its way, and returned that intense, hazel stare back to her.

A beat, two…

Brand snatched her hips and pulled her close. His hands ran up Lunara’s sides and around her back, and he pressed his forehead to her belly, breathing her in as he picked her up and finally stood. Feet dangling, she sighed as he burrowed a little deeper, the ridges of his horns hard against her soft flesh.

Lunara ran her fingers through his auburn waves, sending just a little magic into them while she waited. He was clearly growing it out and she wanted the full length back so she could bury her hands in it and hold on for dear life. She’d shave it all off herself if he objected.

“How much time do I have?”

She frowned down at the top of his head. “For what?”

“Groveling,” he murmured into her.

Tugging his head back, she forced him to look up at her and raised a brow. “Brand, you don’t have to grovel. That’s not⁠—”

“I know.” The bond pulsed again, clarity shining down the threads. “I know. I’m going to grovel because I want to, not because I think I have to, and what a glorious feeling it is.”