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Dust motes danced in a ray of Solyrian’s light aimed right at Brand’s face—one that had barely moved, which meant Mag only dozed for a few minutes. Felt like a fucking eternity, in the worst way.
“Ach, where was I?” He smacked his cheek and thought back, his gut clenching when he recalled. “Oh, right. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I need you to get it together so we can be even, you wee shite,” Magnus murmured, his thumb running back and forth over Brand’s knuckles. “If I’ve got to pretend to be normal while Fern flits around wearing naught but your rather airy tunic, I think it’s only fair you see the witchling swimming in my robe.”
—What are you on about? Lunara changed into sparring linens hours ago—
Aye, but Brand doesn’t know that.
—The jealousy angle? You’re better than this, lad—
He really wasn’t. There was a prickle at the back of his neck that he couldn’t scratch away. A fire in his chest. All because of a stars-damned shirt.
If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, I’ll find something else to rile him up about. In fact…
“By the way, Luna hasn’t stopped crying since she woke, but your twin shadows are out there beating her arse anyway. They’re laughing about it, too. Honest, I could hear them from all the way up—”
Lunara appeared from the mist and slammed into the footboard with a sob. Her nails clawed at the bed linens, sinking in, and he was sure she was going to fall over. Instead, she bared her fangs and loosed something between a growl and scream, all before he could react.
“What happened?” Magnus scrambled from his seat and caught her by the elbow as she listed to one side.
“Don’t touch me,” Lunara spat, flinging his hold away. She clung to the mattress as she rounded it, stumbling her way towards the washroom. “And everyone’s favorite little misunderstood baby brother, His Highness, Araxis, happened.”
Mag didn’t get a chance to respond before she slammed the door in his face.
—Well, then—
Fern swooped in through the open balcony doors, her wings fluttering the canopy around the bed as she landed. The burn in him multiplied at seeing her curved silhouette through the fabric of Brand’s tunic. She’d piled her lavender hair on top of her head too, which meant her wee pointed ears were on full display, wispy curls falling loose around them. Paired with that fierce turn of her lips and the storms brewing in her dark eyes…
Weeping Sisters. She had no right to look so glorious first thing in the morning. Especially when there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.
—Actually…—
Not a fucking word, Pet.
Mag hated the feeling of that wolfish answering grin, like the beast was plotting something behind his own back.
“Where is she?” Fern asked.
“Ach, uh.” Magnus cleared his throat, trying to refocus. “In the—”
“Why in the Five fucking Realms will this bleeding bath not turn on?!” Every word hit a new note until Lunara was shrieking loud enough to wake the dead, a series of angry thumps and crashes following.
“What did Araxis do?” he asked, trailing after Fern.
“Your cock wart of a brother thought it would be a good idea to dredge up Lunara’s second worst nightmare just a few hours after she started living her first worst nightmare. Or, maybe it’s third and second, respectively, since Brand being dead—which is probably still a possibility in her mind, let’s be honest—would probably take top spot.”
“He thought—” So, so tired. “What? Simpler words, lass. I’m lost.”
“Hold your tits, one second.”
She slipped into the washroom, leaving him with nothing but the sound of more bangs and muffled conversation. If nothing else, maybe the sheer amount of noise would finally rouse Brand.
Hedda and Vann chose that exact moment to arrive, neither of them making it past the threshold before Lunara hollered, “Not on your fucking life. Now, get out. Get out!”
“We had a deal,” Fern shrieked back. “I thought you Sorcerit liked your deals, eh? All honorable and shit.”
“It’s not my fault you didn’t bother to set any parameters. I agreed to take a gift. I did not say when, and neither did you.”
“Alright, you pedantic little piss pot. Suit yourself! Have fun with that lever when you can barely hold your own head up. Try not to drown.”
