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Too much. Too much.

Without a word, she misted again, up to Brand’s—their—tower room. The uproar that followed was loud enough to hear all the way up there, the castle practically vibrating with their fury, but her mate needed tending and she needed a moment to breathe.

Whatever apology or explanation they were looking for had to wait.

Curled up beneath Brand on the downy mattress, the blissful weight of his head cradled against her chest, she was tempted to fall asleep with him. Just for a little while, to see if they might dreamwalk again. To hear his voice. To stay there as long as possible, unbothered, until the others inevitably realized where they were.

She wanted to bask in the agony of hope flaring within her, knowing her mate was truly beside her. Trapped, yes, but right there.

And waiting. Counting on you.

Damn it.

Choking back a sob, Lunara pressed a kiss to his brow, his bearded cheek, and breathed him in. Now that she had an inkling of what she was facing, there were plans to realize. For all their sake, though, she couldn’t leave him as he was.

“Forgive me, Brand. You told me to do what I must, and this…” Laying his head down and slipping from the bed, Lunara steeled herself. “I think it counts. I hope you’ll be able to understand.”

She refused to shackle him entirely. Binding his hands and feet, making him suffer that indignity all over again, might shatter his mind beyond repair. Or break the fragile trust growing between them.

A prison would give him some amount of freedom.

The twin moons were clearing the mountain peaks outside, as if they chased her all the way from Thodelebor. Shite, maybe they had. There were times the connection felt strong enough.

Calling to them once more, she used their power to fashion a cage, marveling at the strange sensation of bending their light without the intent of absorbing it or spinning the threads into yarn. Locked like that in its purest form, it was somehow both more solid and more ethereal, the bars like air when she passed through them.

She wasn’t cruel. He’d have use of the washroom, and freedom to walk the balcony if he ever finally mustered the desire to do so. Plenty of space to prowl and stomp. To curse her name as he paced from corner to corner. Lunara only hoped this version of the light was enough to keep the beast subdued while she was gone.

A howl split the twilight, one she knew well. Panicked, almost, in its crooning.

Magnus.

He should be here. He’ll want to lay eyes on his brother, nearly as much as Brand will need him in return when he wakes up.

There was no jealousy in the realization. Just…longing. A sigh of heartbreak that it wasn’t her.

She went out and peered over the balustrade, searching. She found him in the courtyard alone, perched on a block of weathered stone, muzzle resting on his front paws.

Lunara spared a glance back towards her mate and misted.

Not wanting anyone to see her, she grabbed Pet without leaving the ether, pulling him in with her and back up to the tower.

Magnus shifted as they materialized and turned on her. “What in the bleeding fuck were you thinking?!”

She produced a spare robe and silently handed it over.

“He could have killed you, you radge wee witch!” he snapped, ripping the cloth from her hand. “And then where would we be?! As if this fucking shite isn’t bad enough. Fuck!”

Oh-ho, he is definitely pissed at you.

Not any more than she assumed all of them were.

“I’m fine. We’re both fine.”

He leveled a finger at her. “None of that was fucking fine, and you know it. The whole fucking thing was fucking fucked!”

Apparently, he’s lost all creativity.

Lunara pinched her lips between her teeth, drawing a slow breath.