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“There you nearly are, Lunara the Moonweaver,” she whispered to herself. “Thank you, Nyri.”

The list of tasks and worries was a mile long, the heartbreak of it all nigh overwhelming, but none of it mattered if Lunara failed this task.

Brand first. The rest will come after.

“Sisters, bless me. I am yours, as I am his, as I am mine.” One last look, one last breath, and the day became real. “And I am not afraid.”

The room was thick with silence when she returned, the darkness of the wee hours still blanketing her family. Lunara mostly ignored them and went to the mantel, eyeing Araxis until he moved far out of her way. Once there, she lifted trembling fingers to Brand’s dagger. Her touch dipped into the center of the handle, where an image of Solyrian had been hollowed from the metal. Next, over the trilliatum he’d lovingly carved just for her, its trifold petals still glowing a pale blue from her own enchantment on the wood.

Without the Rite intact between them, these were the only gifts from Brand she had to take strength from. And if everything went wrong, they’d be the only ones for the rest of her miserable life.

The thought of that wretched possibility alone was incentive enough not to fail.

“What happened to the…the F-Fae that I⁠—”

“Worry not,” Vann interjected. “They were taken home and will be properly sent off to the Veil.”

Lunara clenched her fist, a scream perched on the tip of her tongue. Instead of releasing it and bringing the whole bleeding castle down, she finally faced them and said, “I’m ready.”

“As you’ll ever be, I suspect,” Hedda murmured, leading her to the settee and settling in beside her, “but you certainly look it.”

Fern was already there, waiting. “We figured you’d start with me, since I’ve been feeding you already. Just to ease you into it, eh?”

Lunara nodded, steeling herself. “Right. Yes. Good.”

“Right as rain.” Fern tucked a lock of Lunara’s hair away and offered up the soft flesh of her inner forearm. “Accept this gift, my friend. Freely given.”

Beneath the sweet warmth of Solyrian’s midday rays, Lunara pushed a sigh through pursed lips, closed her eyes, pictured Brand’s stunning face, and sank her sharp fangs into the wrong flesh.

A few hours later, Lunara slowly walked the sunny corridors like she was leading a burial procession of one.

Only their core group knew what was happening, but she swore the whole of the Horned City felt it alongside her, as if the land was holding its breath and already anticipating the worst.

Not unlike the latest version of its beloved Demon Son.

They agreed the practice fields were best. Lunara thought it might ground Brand to be outside with the late afternoon rays and crashing music of the sea. Might give him a better chance to have his realm cradling him at its finest.

If he’s the day in Endellion’s foretellings, and Night is the fucking problem, the sunlight can only help.

Yes. Probably. Maybe. Shite, she fucking hoped so.

Only Magnus had laid eyes on him that day, but he insisted Brand lit up when he told him they’d all be at supper. Instead, he was about to be blindsided, wholly unaware that those he loved most in the world were armed to the teeth and waiting for him elsewhere.

Hence the guilt threatening to end her before the beast ever had a chance.

Lunara could’ve misted straight to him, but she needed the few minutes alone to shore up her mind and heart. Her skin was crackling beneath the surface, so much raw power poised to drop that she was shaking with it. And it likely wouldn’t be long before he—or Night—noticed it. Which…might end up being quite the problem.

Shh. Don’t worry about that yet.

She reached the base of their tower all too soon, the spiral staircase looming before her, but the door beside it rooted her to the ground.

Brand’s workshop.

The months since he’d gone inside were marked by the dust sitting heavy on its handle. On the panel, peeking animals and an intricate knot pattern did their best to break her, and she made a vow—if anything happened, she was stealing it and keeping the stunning example of Brand’s woodworking for herself, and no one could stop her.

Sisters, please let him still be here to make more when this is done.

Lunara drew a steadying breath and misted.