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“The Sorcerit healers will make sure everyone is looked after,” Luna said from the foot of the dais, holding up a missive she received from the Evesong. “Some will be placed with every contingent, and we’ll have stations set up for those in need of particular care. I’m sure Araxis will have even more reassurances on the matter.” Her tone softened. “And don’t worry about Hedda and Faldir. Remember our deal?”

Lyriat swallowed. “Whatever trials come up, whatever ailments or surprises—you stay by their side and see them finished.”

“These are those very same trials, and the blood in my veins, the honor of all Nachthellians, holds me to that promise.” She dipped her head, grace personified. “I won’t let anything happen to them.”

“And I won’t let anything happen to her,” Fern said, hiking her thumb. “The wolf won’t let anything happen to me. Someone else will be watching him. So on and so forth. It’ll be one, big, protective circle-jerk, Your Majesty. No worries.”

Even Amun choked out a laugh, shaking his head as he stood from a nearby bench. “Indeed. I do not think this is the battle we need worry over.”

“Hmm.” Fern narrowed her eyes, giving him a once over. “You say that the same way I feel things. What do you know?”

His oldest brother didn’t miss a beat, wholly unconcerned with her lack of proper address. “Nothing but my own feelings.”

“Aye, everyone’s got the warm fuzzies. Huzzah.” Magnus threw back whatever tepid dregs were left in his tankard from the morning meal. “What are we doing about Vann and Araxis?”

“I will fetch Vann on my way to Argoph ahead of you,” Amun said. “Lunara is in charge of procuring Araxis however she sees fit. Feel free to quote me on that if he puts up a fight.”

Brand’s own lips curled when wicked calculation came through the bond, the cogs turning behind Luna’s azure stare.

“Midnight, then. Father’s garden.” Amun gathered his satchel and riding linens, as well as a wrapped meal for Amal, who was left to keep an eye on Nakarat in the cove. “Lunara, if you please?”

She misted over to Amun and they disappeared.

“Excellent.” Lyriat stood, feigning satisfaction. “We will make our preparations for the Westrealm and see you when you return from the Weeping City. Come, cousins.”

Brand shared a long look with Hedda before she gave him the barest nod and followed Lyriat.

Magnus stood and stretched. “She’ll keep an eye on him while we’re gone, lad. He’ll be alright.”

“I hope so. This business with Bal and Nyri is killing him.”

“And so it should. That’s how family works, aye? Besides, we’ve all been suffering for months now. Don’t let it get to you.”

Fern was uncharacteristically silent, chewing her lip while she stared off at nothing. Brand wasn’t sure why, but that bothered him, his lungs squeezing.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

She looked him dead in the eye. “This is going to get worse before it gets better, one way or another.”

Fern didn’t have to say that she could feel it.

Brand wished he didn’t feel it, too.

When he appeared at the base of the stone steps leading up to Okthana’s excuse for a fortress, he let the facade melt away. He wanted to be on her good side today, and she preferred his true self.

A laugh tried to crawl its way up his throat at the irony, but he bit it back.

Caryx, the ever dutiful minion, greeted him at the door and led him through the vast and open courtyard. Around the deep, gaping hole of raw power that she and her pitiful subjects referred to as the Bore.

Moronic fucking parasites.

Up another set of stone steps and through a looming row of blackened columns, and Caryx painstakingly opened one side of the double doors there, into a yawning hall. He could’ve traveled straight to Okthana but, again, today was about soothing her more explosive tendencies and getting her back on his track. All while convincing her that it was for her own good.

The bitch in question was, of course, already entrenched in what she thought was her throne at the far end.

He had been the one to make it with thoughtful care long before she was born, sculpting the Celestial bodies contained therein to perfectly cradle its true master—an offering from the one who loved him above all others. In a fit of true madness, he brought it as a gift and convinced Okthana it was created for her, thinking it might help earn her trust.

Another of his rare mistakes. All it did was serve to piss him off whenever he saw her sitting in it, high and mighty, no idea of the real forces she was fucking around with.