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Shite.
Misting from the bed, she called the nearest garment onto her body—Orion’s stunning creation. At least she’d look incredible while she lost her damned mind on whoever dared to disturb them without being invited.
Dark power swelled right before a soft rap on the front door.
Lunara gritted her teeth as she stomped over and wrenched it open—quietly. “You’d better have a very good reason for showing your face here, Araxis aht Bordoroth,” she hissed.
“May I please come in?”
She rolled her eyes and stepped aside. “He just fell asleep, so make it quick.”
“I’m not your enemy, Lunara,” he murmured, picking up a dried rose she’d received as payment decades ago.
“No?” She snatched it from him, careful not to crush the delicate petals, and set it on a nearby shelf. “All those cryptic moments leading up to the main event, then whatever spell the Council cast, a lot of weird shite I will not be sharing with you, and next I know, I’m waking up in my own bed with parchment glued to my forehead. Of course, it held no explanation other than ‘Brand is outside. Both of you take some time to rest.’ And he hasn’t been able to tell me a damned thing either. Why should I believe anything you have to say?”
“It’s not uncommon for Keepers to forget the Occurrence.”
She scoffed. “Always the non-answers with you. We’ve both known only one Keeper. Since Malachyr’s last Occurrence was before we were born, how would you know? Do you simply believe everything they tell you?”
Lunara was more than inclined to believe it now that she knew more about herself. If she barely remembered it, the Keepers before her hadn’t stood a chance.
Doesn’t mean you have to put up with him being an arse.
Exactly.
“This is not why I’m here.”
“Oh, naturally. Why would it be? That would make too much sense!”
He stepped into a dancing beam of moonlight, angling his face to highlight the deep, seeping claw marks down one side of his face.
“Shitting stars,” she breathed, barely stopping herself from reaching out to heal him. “What happened?”
Araxis sighed. “Fern was displeased when I tried to repair her wing so as not to disturb you and my brother.”
Lunara couldn’t hold back her snort of laughter. “Serves you right.”
“Indeed.” He grimaced when he accidentally scrubbed a hand over it. “I gave her a potion to numb it, which seems to have given her permission to do…whatever she bleeding wants, according to Magnus. Unfortunately, the injury is festering in silence. She has a green and sallow cast, for all her antics.”
“Damn.”
“Hmm.”
They stared at each other. Lunara knew exactly why he was here and what he wanted, but she refused to volunteer herself. If he wanted to pull her away from Brand, he needed to open his mouth and ask.
Of course, she was tempted to squirm beneath that crystalline stare as the seconds ticked by. To give in because she was worried, every instinct screaming at her to help her friend. To go now so she made it back as quickly as possible.
Keep it together. It’s his own bleeding fault this is happening, and he deserves to squirm.
At last, Araxis relented. “I hate to make such a request, but could you see to her? I’m genuinely concerned for her welfare.”
“How bad is it?”
“I got my hands on her for about three seconds, and only that small exchange of power and ailment caused me to immediately expel the contents of my stomach.”
Lunara’s head tipped back, gaze on her dusty ceiling rafters. “Fuck.”
“Yes.”
