Chapter Forty-Five

C HAPTER F ORTY-FIVE

‘A free pint of Flame Spewer for the saviour of Zerathion!’ A wooden mug is shoved in front of my face as I stop by a stall in the streets of Chrysos. After the nightmare the other day, I busied myself by visiting the city more often.

I eye the flames spitting atop the tankard and jut a brow upwards at the burly vendor giving it to me. The same one who once insulted me the first night I ever came to this city.

I doubt he recognises me from that night, but I remember him.

Freya glances between us, a grimace marring her usually soft features, expecting the worst. Yet I smile at the man instead and take the drink, downing it while maintaining eye contact with him.

‘Thank you,’ I say, the vendor’s eyes widening as I hand him back the mug and walk off with Freya.

She snorts as I hook my arm with hers. ‘I truly have no idea how you handle a drink like that.’

‘It no longer contains goblin blood,’ I reply, content with that thought. ‘Darius made sure creature cruelty was banished from the city.’ I say that just as some pixies fly past a few giggling children.

‘And the rest of Emberwell?’

My lips screw together. ‘We’re getting there.’

There are still nearby towns and villages where animals may be captured and sold now that the treaty is broken. I can envision Hedris taking on the role of a buyer, although the thought is rather sickening.

‘Is he always going to follow you around?’ Freya suddenly asks, subtly trying to glance behind us at where Ruvyn walks a few paces slower than us.

I chuckle. ‘He did that with Arlayna. I think he enjoys it.’

Freya raises a brow.

I shake my head in amusement. ‘Looking out for others, I mean.’

Freya laughs, butting heads with me, and I suddenly feel for Ruvyn. He’s still young, and I assume he will eventually return to Terranos for his mother, but with Thallan ruling, I doubt he wants to cross paths with him.

‘Ambrose!’

Freya and I come to a halt. We exchange a knowing glance full of amusement before we turn and see Rydan bundling down the street. He nearly stops at one of the stalls, hesitating as if tempted by something, but ultimately declines and joins us.

‘What is it now?’ Freya asks an out-of-breath Rydan.

He holds up a finger, needing a moment as he doubles over and tries to catch his breath. ‘Your brothers—’ he wheezes. ‘And Darius—’ Another wheeze. ‘Are together.’

I stare at him.

‘As in together, together ,’ he rephrases slowly, ‘giving him the almighty brotherly talk, I’m sure.’

Oh, Solaris.

‘You came all this way to tell us this?’

‘Frey Frey, do not start with me.’ He lets out an exasperated breath. ‘I overheard Idris tell Iker and Illias to be prepared to test him, which I’m assuming is not a good thing—’

My eyes widen, which only makes Freya burst out into laughter.

‘Where are they?’ I ask.

‘In one of the taverns in the city—’

I swiftly take off down the street, leaving Rydan with the words still in his mouth. ‘Stay here,’ I say to Ruvyn as I pass by him.

‘Wait,’ Rydan calls out to me. ‘What are they going to ask him?’

Questions I do not want to even imagine.

Intimate ones, threatening ones, and possibly even embarrassing ones. None of which have concerned me in the past, but now I find myself unwilling to tolerate my brothers’ attempts at superiority when faced with someone like Darius, who has a knack for saying all the wrong things just to get under someone’s skin.

I search the streets, passing by various taverns until I land on one named The Hickory and see that it is the most crowded.

Raising my brows, I enter through the wooden double doors and scan the heady-scented place. A few patrons are chatting and looking towards the far corner, so I storm over there and come across Darius, Tibith and my brothers sitting around a table with jugs of ale stacked upon others.

I blink like an absolute fool, not knowing what is happening as I stare at the four who are roaring with laughter. Even Idris is smiling.

My gaze is coated with suspicion as I near them. Tibith jumps onto the table, grinning at me. ‘What is going on?’ I demand.

Darius looks up, the side of his mouth tugging into a smile. ‘Your brothers were just telling me about the time you pretended to be Iker.’

Iker’s face is bright red from laughing. ‘It was convincing until I broke the bed trying to sneak in.’

‘It wasn’t that convincing,’ Idris grumbles, lolling his head to the side to look at him.

Still in shame at this outcome, I sink into the chair beside Idris. ‘Did you . . .’ I lean into him while staring at Iker, Illias and Darius. ‘Did you do—’

‘He passed.’ Idris smiles, already knowing what I was trying to ask.

My head snaps to Darius, his smug smile telling me everything.

‘Mr Iker asked Darry why he chose you of all people as his bride!’ Tibith lets slip out, ever so innocently.

Iker snorts out a chuckle. I glare at him, and if this was like the old times in our village, he knows that I would have chased him around with a poker.

‘All right, all right.’ Illias raises his palms. ‘The point is that we know . . .’ All three of my brothers share the same look. ‘You and him are right for each other.’

‘That, and also that you’re both reincarnations—’

‘Regardless,’ Idris cuts Iker off. ‘We’re happy for you. Both of you.’

I can’t contain the joy that bubbles out of me, and it must be contagious because my brothers stare back at me with their eyes sparkling with delight.

Darius places his hand on my thigh, and I glance at him with my heart full and face flushed.

As my brothers converse with a bubbly Tibith, I discreetly reach for his hand, savouring the warmth of his touch. Our fingers naturally entwine, and he lifts our hands to his lips with a tender gesture, kissing my knuckles.

I shake my head with a smile at the suggestive gleam in his eyes.

‘Oh, Nara,’ Illias says. I turn my head to see him leaning back into his chair with the biggest grin on his face. ‘Did you know Idris has been very into writing lately?’

I think I hear Idris growl at him, which makes Iker and Illias chuckle.

Surprised, my brows scrunch together as I look at Idris and say with a smile, ‘Really?’

He plays with the rim of his tankard. ‘It helps pass the time,’ he grouses.

‘For when he’s writing down his feelings, rather than saying them.’ Illias picks up his mug and smiles into it, much as Darius does right now, watching us interact.

‘I have only written a few things; my spelling isn’t exactly up to scratch,’ Idris says hastily, then sighs. ‘But I must say, I do . . . enjoy it.’

‘He’s trying to take after his young brother.’ Iker stretches his arms over the back of his head, eyes squinting as he dons a lofty smile. ‘It’s only natural.’

Idris simply rolls his eyes, prompting Iker to laugh. It gladdens me that they are getting on again and relying on each other rather than arguing for the sake of it. That is the last thing Freya would want.

I tilt my head, my eyes on Idris. ‘I’d like to see what you have written so far.’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s nothing special, Nara. It’s just words.’

His humility reminds him that he has never thought highly of himself. ‘Words written by a special man.’

He casts me a glare that softens when he realises I mean it.

‘Would anyone like a fourth round?’ Iker drums his hands against the table when the barmaid comes past.

Illias slides Iker’s mug far away from him. ‘You’ve had enough.’

I relinquish a sigh, knowing what is to follow. Iker will start an argument with Illias, Idris will intervene and become frustrated, and eventually, we will all be kicked out for disruption.

‘How about a game of Liars’ Dice?’ Darius suggests right as Iker is opening his mouth to insult Illias.

My head snaps at him, but he simply casts me a small, knowing glance.

Tibith gasps, thrilled. ‘Can I play too, Darry?’

‘Of course.’

‘Liars’ Dice?’ Iker asks.

Darius leans forward, tilting his head to the side. ‘You never played it when you were at the den?’

Illias shakes his head, a scoff escaping his lips. ‘Most of our time was spent practising what we would do if Sarilyn found us.’

A slither of guilt works up my throat, but I swallow it. They are with me now. Safe and free from the people who would try to harm them back in our village.

‘Well.’ Darius looks at me, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile. ‘There’s always a first time for everything.’

I hum at him gleefully, distinctly remembering that I won the first time.

Beneath the table, Darius places his hand on my thigh again and squeezes punishingly. I jerk, almost hitting my knee against the wood, and he chuckles while my brothers and Tibith have no clue.

My cheeks burn and Darius looks at my brothers as Iker and Illias consider playing the game. When they agree to a round, Darius lifts his mug in a toast to them before draining the last remnants of mead. With a resounding thud, he slams the tankard onto the table and deposits a few dice inside as he fixes me with a simpering smile. The look might as well turn me into a puddle of liquid as I fight an eye roll but fail.

‘How do we play?’ Idris suddenly asks, surprising me with his keen interest in participating.

Darius leans forward, his golden eyes sparkling with anticipation and excitement as he starts to explain the rules.