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50. Brett

It had been coming since the moment I'd seen Paris in the council camp, his beautiful brown eyes colored with nervousness and more than a little disgust. The moment he'd first tasted the bread my people had made, and his mind had changed, just a little.

The moment I'd infected him with Avianitis.

"Because I've already risked a war with your people," I told Hector, meeting his eye without flinching. "I am in love with your brother, and by falling in love with him, I risked my entire country's future."

Killian snorted. "So your answer is to shrug and ask why stop while you're behind?"

Hector's eyes darted back and forth between the two of us, still clear and bright even when he was absolutely exhausted. Nevertheless, he had to be struggling to follow what we were talking about. There was so much he didn't know, that couldn't be easily explained.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. The best way to handle this mess was by showing them, not talking more. So I unbuttoned my cuffs, jerking at my shirt until I managed to yank it off over my head, rolling my neck back and forth to try to release some tension while I was at it.

When I lifted my head again, Killian looked like he was about to laugh. The asshole. Helena was giving my bare chest an appreciative twice-over. Hector was confused.

And poor Paris looked petrified. He snatched up my hand. "You don't have to. Brett, this isn't necessary. They'll come. I can't?—"

"They're your family," I told him, clasping his hand between mine. "That makes them my family too, now. You're as Nemedan as I am. You trust them. I trust them."

He blinked rapidly, trying to avoid the tears welling in his eyes, but I leaned forward and kissed him. "It'll be easier for them with me anyway. I'm a stranger from a foreign land. It's not surprising when I do the unexpected."

And with that, I dropped his hand and shifted, taking wing just long enough to lift free of my clothing, letting it drop to the floor beneath me, and then letting myself drift down to the end of Hector's bed.

The two of them stared at me, openmouthed.

That was... well, it was rather what I'd expected, honestly. I'd have been just as shocked if one of them had turned into a rabbit, when I had no idea such a thing was possible.

After a long, tense, silent moment, Helena dropped to her knees next to the bed, continuing to stare. She reached a hand out, but paused. "Is it... can I..."

"Oh, just pet him. He's a sucker for attention anyway," Killian informed her.

I squawked at him in annoyance, but when Helena reached over and stroked her fingers down my back, it really was nice. She had a firm, confident touch, like Paris.

Well, not quite like Paris, but close enough that my mind made the comparison.

"You're"—she broke off and looked up at Hector, then Paris—"he's a hawk. It's—it's still him, isn't it?"

"It is," Paris agreed. "He can still understand you. He's just a hawk."

Helena's eyes went wide, and she whipped her head around to look at Killian. "I heard you. You called Paris Hawk owl yesterday. You said that. Paris?"

Paris took a deep breath and nodded. "He wasn't joking when he said I was like family now?—"

"Are," Killian corrected. "He said you are family. You're a member of the Hawk Clan. You were infected with Avianitis because my ridiculous friend fell in love with you and infected you. You survived. You have a bird inside you. That makes you a member of the Hawk. Not a friend of the clan, not like a member. A member, the end. And while Brett infecting you was an accident that he worried might start a war, this isn't that. Now that you're one of us, if we have to start a war to protect you and your family, then we do. As simple as that. You are a Hawk. Hawks are Nemedan. Nemedans get the protection of the flock."

For the first time since I'd seen him, Hector managed to sit up in his bed, leaning forward to look at me. He stared into my eyes. Clearly, he was a clever man, because it wasn't the look a man gave a bird or an oddity he was trying to figure out. It was the look a man gave another man. One who he'd just found out was in love with his beloved brother.

"If you hurt him like that damned prince, I don't care that you can fly, and I don't care how fast you are, I'll pluck you like a goddamned chicken."

Paris groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Hector!"

Killian laughed. Killian laughed like I'd never heard him laugh before, long and loud and so much that he had to hold his sides, and looked like he was struggling to breathe. "Like a chicken," he mouthed at me, unable to draw enough breath to speak.

Even Helena seemed more than a little amused, and despite Paris's horror, I could tell he was also pleased. Pleased at how much his brother loved him, and even more, at how much life Hector was showing, now that the poison was leaving his system.

I left the room, squawking for Killian to let me out, which he did, and Paris brought my clothes out, so I could re-dress without offending Helena or Hector, who weren't yet used to the Nemedan way, that included occasional nakedness.

"Okay," Hector said when we came back in. "But we have to do this the smart way. Pack our things. Prepare. Wait a few days for me to get better, so I won't be as much of a liability."

I smiled at him and nodded. "I wouldn't have suggested doing it any other way."

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