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She did, all too well. And since they had no idea what had been done to him, what he’d suffered, the only place to start was…the beginning.
“I’m so sorry.” It was a challenge to temper her voice. “This must be quite confusing for you.”
Brand hummed low but didn’t speak. His steady gaze was unsettling.
“M-my name is Lunara the—”
Shitting stars.
She fisted the sheets tighter, bunching them against her collarbone. This Brand didn’t know or trust her. Wasn’t aware she was the Moonweaver, or the Keeper, or his mate, or anything other than…
“J-just Lunara. I’m a healer.”
He chuckled, but there was no real amusement in the sound. “From my limited experience, sleeping with the infirm is not usually part of a healer’s work.”
Infirm?
Archaic. She couldn’t imagine why he’d use such a word.
“Not usually, no.” What else could she say that wouldn’t upset him? “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, though. I’d like to examine you, if that’s alright. May I touch you?”
As if she hadn’t been sending threads of her power out over and over the past few days, just to hear the reassuring beat, beat, beat of his heart. As if she hadn’t been doing that very thing from the moment they met.
“Mmm. Please do.”
It was Lunara’s turn to flinch.
Oh, that’s… No, no, no. That isn’t right.
Her insides churned, bile rising. Such a suggestive tone was all wrong coming from him. And was his voice getting deeper?
A streak of green flashed in Lunara’s periphery, and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t a relief. She’d completely forgotten Fern and Hedda were nearby.
Brand noticed them, too.
His eyes darted down and to the side. “Come out, come out...”
Sweet baby Sisters.
With a sharp, sickened sob, Lunara cupped his cheek and the world exploded.
Someday, Fern was going to find out who and what she really was, and she knew it was going to fucking hurt. Hence her repeated refusals to let Lunara dig around in her head. But no matter what the outcome ended up being, she hoped she could settle somewhere with a view like the one from Brand and Lunara’s tower balcony.
Not the half-leveled Demon city part, though. That was just depressing.
No, she wanted Solyrian over the sparkling sea. Fluffy clouds. The crash and swirl of water. Something about it was so fucking familiar.
Static leapt over Fern’s skin, settling as a warning at the base of her skull. She sat up, hand going to her mace, her ears twitching.
“Something’s wrong,” she whispered to Hedda, who was sitting on the lounge beside her. “I can feel it.”
Hedda moved to stand but Fern stilled her with a raised finger. The lounges they sat in were horribly placed, all things considered. She hadn’t realized how tucked away they were until it suddenly mattered.
A deep, masculine chuckle rumbled from inside the chamber.
Hedda’s hand flew to her lips on a gasp, her mossy eyes watering. “Brand,” she mouthed.
Fern hated the idea of wiping that joy from her friend’s face, but the skittering along her spine said they may want to reserve excitement. She shook her head, hoping Hedda would get the message.
