Chapter 50

Chapter 50

“ M ay I come in?”

Andrian twisted in his chair, glancing over his shoulder at the figure standing in the doorway to Mariah’s study.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was in there; she wasn’t in her rooms, instead down training with Trefor and Matheo in the game park.

He was even less sure how Sebastian had found him and was halfway to forming a scowl before he noticed the way the other man stood. Anxious and slightly uncomfortable, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes downcast, a muscle in his jaw working.

Andrian swallowed his building retort and nodded. “Sure.” He slammed his book shut and set it on the white wood table as Sebastian stepped into the study and settled in the chair beside Andrian.

The two men sat there, the air a little tense. Andrian studied Sebastian, resting one hand on the armrest, the other brushing a finger across his tightly closed lips. Ever since their return from Khento, Sebastian had been hostile, aggressive, and angry, especially toward Andrian. But that talk he’d had with Mariah last night, that quiet moment they’d shared while the others had been making teams and settling into their night of revelry …

Andrian had always known Mariah was magic. That she had powers extending far beyond just the silver-gold light in her veins. But the way she’d drained Sebastian of his rage in just a few minutes was a shock even to him.

None of that gave him any clue what this talk could be about, though.

Sebastian leaned forward, eyes focusing on the book Andrian was reading. His brows pushed together even as he smiled.

“‘ A History of Dragons ?’” He looked at Andrian. “Again?”

Andrian grunted, shifting in his seat. “What? It’s a favorite.”

“Oh, trust me. I know. I remember that being the one item you brought with you when you moved to the capital. How you read it every night for eight years. Often aloud and to the rest of us, whether we wanted to listen or not.”

“Of course, you all wanted to listen. They’re stories about dragons.” Andrian shot him a weak glare out of the corner of his eye. “What boys aren’t obsessed with dragons?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Fair,” He settled further into the seat. “They say the stories are true. But they’re all so old, they feel more like fiction now.”

“I still believe in them.”

They fell silent. For the briefest of moments, Andrian let himself fall into the idea of dragons walking the earth again. Three decades into his life, and he didn’t think he’d ever give up those boyhood dreams of one day hearing one roar.

Andrian almost scoffed at himself. He might believe in the stories, but to think dragons could return? Those were the wishes of a child.

The dragons were gone, and they were never coming back.

“Did you need something, Sebastian?” Andrian’s tone was almost bored as he turned to fully face Sebastian. The other man’s brows were knitted in contemplation, and he shook his head slightly before running a hand through his hair.

“Yes,” he began, his words slow. “I have …” He drew a deep breath, rubbing his palms across his thighs. “I’ve come to apologize.”

Well … of all things, Andrian certainly hadn’t expected that .

Andrian blinked. “Apologize?”

“Yes. Apologize.” Sebastian turned away, looking at the marble fireplace on the other side of the room. “I was an ass … after. I’ve known you my entire life, and the moment that was tested, I treated you like an enemy. And I’m … I’m sorry.”

Andrian kept his expression schooled into neutrality, a skill he practiced far too often. “I was an enemy. You don’t have to apologize for treating me like one.”

“No. No, you weren’t. And we all know—knew—that. But I was so angry at myself for failing that I didn’t even care.”

A heavy silence extended between them.

“She wouldn’t have been taken if it hadn’t been for me,” Andrian murmured, his voice too soft, too quiet, too empty.

Sebastian whipped his head. “But you don’t remember any of it. You have no memories until she woke you up with the bond.” His eyes narrowed. “Right?”

Andrian’s jaw worked. “No, I don’t remember any of it. I’ve tried; trust me. I spent those early days back from Khento drowning myself. Both in whiskey and in my memories. But no matter how deep I tried to go, nothing came up. It’s like it never even happened.” He scratched at a frayed thread in his chair.

“But even without my memories, I know, in my soul , that it was my hands who took her. It was this body that tormented her. And for her, it was me. He might not have been me, but he wore my face, and spoke with my voice.” He refused to meet Sebastian’s stare, too afraid of what he might find there.

Andrian drew in a shaky inhale. “I keep people distanced from me because I don’t want to see them hurt. To lose them. To be the one who causes those things. It happened first with my mother, and I swore to myself, never again.” He clenched his hands. “But I was too fucking weak. I let Mariah in. And it happened again.”

He finally risked a glance at Sebastian, whose eyes were now wide, expression open. “I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your apologies. You treated me the way I deserved. You treated me the way I would’ve treated myself, had the roles been reversed.”

The room was quiet and still. Understanding—something the two men hadn’t shared with the other in a long, long time—passed between them. The understanding of two brothers who knew each other too well and were now bound by something more than just an oath or a mark on their chest.

Love made things weak, but once tempered, it could be forged into something indestructible.

Even love between brothers, even if they shared no blood.

Sebastian broke the stillness with a great, drawling inhale. “Okay, then. No apologies.” He smiled. “Acknowledgment, then?”

Andrian leaned back and nodded. “Yes. Acknowledgment.”

Sebastian smiled tentatively. “Good.” His gaze drifted around the room before returning to Andrian. “So, what do you plan to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Andrian ran a hand through his hair.

It was too fucking long.

“I mean,” Sebastian said, something like humor in his hazel eyes, “Mariah has obviously started to forgive you. I can see it on you; how desperately you need her to. So, I’ll ask again: what do you plan to do now?”

Andrian tensed. He’d been taking things with Mariah one day at a time. They hadn’t been alone together since she’d confronted him the night they’d returned from the market district, and he’d been too cautious to try seeking her out.

But nothing had made him happier than when his skin brushed hers at the meeting, and she hadn’t shied away. When she’d leaned into him instead, the hint of that blush creeping into her cheeks.

He swallowed. “I’ve been trying to give her space. I want her to tell me when she’s ready for … more. From me.” Gods, this was uncomfortable. He’d shared stories with Sebastian in the past—all young men did, growing up hot-blooded and stupid with a city at their disposal—but about Mariah? Something about that made him defensive, a primal instinct roaring awake.

“I know. That’s good.” Sebastian grinned. “But I think she may also be waiting for you.”

“What?” Andrian bit out, astonishment and surprise like coils of lightning in his veins. “Waiting for me to do what ?”

Sebastian waved his hand, exasperated. “I don’t know. Make some grand gesture.” His grin widened. “Trust me, Andrian. Last night, none of us saw a woman afraid. Perhaps her fear is still there, lingering, but she is conquering it. As she does most things. I think she has a lot of emotion bottled up and is just waiting for an offering of trust so she can let it all out.”

Andrian remembered last night, vividly. The group was rowdy, drunk, and happy. And despite everything, despite the tension that still existed between them, Mariah had sat beside him, the warmth of her body pressed against his thigh. She’d lost so much weight in that hellhole, but she was putting it all back, and the sight of the healthy flush to her cheeks, the tan glow of her skin … Fuck, it had taken all his strength to walk away. To go back to his rooms when the night was over and not linger there in her threshold like a lost puppy, waiting for her to either let him in or slam the door in his face.

Perhaps Sebastian had a point. He was so fucking gone, and the only way either of them would get past this was through an act of trust. Something he could offer to show her that he was hers in every way he could be.

Andrian tapped his finger against the armrest, feeling the annoying brush of his hair on the back of his neck.

“I think I have an idea.”