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“Thank the blimmin’ blooms someone is willing to acknowledge it. Proud of you, twig dick,” Fern said, then pointed at Lunara. “You, though—what if he was asking you to go murder baby dragons, eh? You can’t just say yes to his shit because he’s him. Fuck.”

“That’s not what was happening,” Lunara said, throwing a pointed look at the Fae.

“Aye, and Brand would never ask her to do anything as awful as that,” Mag argued.

“Yeah, well, Brand probably wouldn’t try to murder her, either. And yet!” Fern threw her hands up. “We don’t fucking know when he’s Brand and when he isn’t. Am I the only one in Bordoroth who sees this clearly? I feel like I stumbled into the woods and ate the wrong mushrooms.”

“I—” Magnus ran a hand through his hair before slumping into the chair.

Fucking Fern.

Her crass honesty was one of the few things Brand trusted without reservation. Strange didn’t even begin to describe what it was like to feel that way about a complete stranger. And yet, indeed.

Despite everything, Brand had to tamp down a bubbling laugh. Somehow, he didn’t think it would help him at the moment.

Wait.

An echo of tinkling giggles sounded beside the screams in the deepest parts of himself, bright and sunny amidst the darkness. They were promise and pain. And there was something about a plan, or⁠—

“Brand?”

His gaze snapped back to reality, landing on a midnight robe collar with gold embroidery. He followed the long line of Lunara’s throat upwards, over full lips and a straight nose, until he met eyes like the sea.

The plan.

“I’d like to go into the city today,” Brand murmured, dazed as he searched her stare, “and was wondering if you’d like to join me. That’s what I forgot.”

He watched himself from a distance, his mouth and body going through the motions and saying exactly what he intended to earlier, before…before something.

Burning Solyrian, he couldn’t think.

“I would. But first, I’m due on the practice field with the twins,” Lunara said, a shy tilt to her head. “Would you like to come with us?”

“No, thank you.” His voice was far away, a drum in his ears drowning out the words. “There’s something else I’d like to do.”

Lunara stared at him for a long moment, a deep furrow between her brows, before she finally said, “Perhaps we can meet in the Great Hall once breakfast is cleared.”

“I will see you there.” His feet had a mind of their own, carrying him to the door without another word. When he felt Magnus at his back, he sent a fleeting glance over his shoulder. “I’d like to be alone.”

Without waiting for an answer, he left, making sure to pull the chamber door closed behind him with just enough finality to the slam that he was unlikely to be challenged.

He had to get to the top of that mountain. It was important to him, and he needed to know why.

Seeing the new bench on the mountaintop was a bizarre moment for Brand. There were half-second, fragmented memories of sitting on it beside Lunara, and he sensed his magic in the particles of stone. He just didn’t remember making it.

Finding it warm before the sunstar had fully risen was stranger still.

Brand wasn’t sure what made him come here. It had been ages since the last time he bothered, too many things distracting him, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

Sweet Sisters, he’d forgotten the majesty of it.

From this high, it was possible to imagine the city as it used to be. To see its potential again. It felt pertinent to have that glint of hope for his visit there later.

For both things he intended to do later.

Brand didn’t want to hold himself back from Lunara any longer. The change was jarring, her presence turning from poison to fine wine in the blink of an eye. From agony to a soft inebriation that he craved more and more with every passing second. He was starving. Thirsty. Breathless with wanting.

She was the only thing capable of satiating him. He knew it to his bones. Just for that, a broken piece of himself was hers.