He’d woken before dawn, but it had still taken Xander the better part of the morning to find the courage to walk to Rafe’s room. And now he was there. Standing outside the door. Knuckles lifted to knock. Hesitating.
After a few minutes, he finally twisted the knob and barged into his brother’s room unannounced the way he usually did. Rafe was in bed, arms thrown over his head, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes as though the clouds painted there held the key to the universe.
“You look like hell,” Xander said, forcing a cheerful smile to his lips, fighting the wave of anxiety coursing through his veins and making him jittery.
The conversation with his mother played on repeat in his head.
As did the image of Rafe and Lyana, buried in the wreckage and tangled like star-crossed lovers in the last scene of a tragic play.
But what to say?
And how to say it?
And—
Xander funneled all the anger and the questions into his invisible fist, storing them away to be dealt with later, because now he needed to remain calm. Everything would go so much smoother if he could pass it all off as a ridiculous joke.
Rafe threw him a brief glance. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“How are you feeling?” Xander asked, perching on the stool in the corner of the room, his feet on the rungs. Casual. Ordinary.
Rafe sat up and flared his wings as he ran his hands over his face, pushing sleep and exhaustion away before taking a deep breath. “Awful, but alive.”
Xander studied the bends beneath his brother's feathers, all exactly where they were supposed to be, no longer broken and battered and jutting out at all ends. They didn’t talk about Rafe’s magic. Not really. It was like dust, to be swept under the rug, there but not there, out of sight and out of mind, until it was too obvious to ignore. Now was one of those times.
“That was…” Xander searched for the word, eyes continuing to rove over the injuries that were no longer there. “Fast.”
Rafe knew what he meant.
He closed his wings as he stood, hiding them behind his back and joining Xander at the window. “It looked worse than it was.”
“It looked bad, Rafe,” Xander said quietly. “It looked fatal. It was fatal…to nearly everyone else.”
The edge of Rafe’s lip rose, though his eyes remained stormy. “Let me guess, the people are talking?”
“Can you blame them?”
“No.” Rafe faced him, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes softening. “What do you need me to do?”
“My mother wants me to send you away,” Xander said in a lighthearted tone.
He expected Rafe to respond with a snort and, Banishment again? How unoriginal.
Or perhaps a roll of his eyes and a tired sigh.
Or maybe even a grin and, A vacation? Lovely.
Instead, Rafe held his gaze, features disturbingly still as he asked, “Should you?”
A nervous laugh spilled from Xander’s lips. “Come on. It’s just gossip.”
“It’s only gossip if it’s not true.”
“Rafe, you’re not cursed.”
His brother just shrugged.
“Rafe,” Xander insisted, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Shirking the hold, Rafe stepped back. “Maybe you should send me away, Xander. You don’t need me anymore. You have a mate and a kingdom, and I’m just a liability.”
“How can you say that?” Xander squinted, as if unable to recognize the man before him. Was this why Rafe had been spending hours upon hours in the practice field swinging a sword? Never coming to lunch or to dinner? Hardly coming to his room at night to talk? Because he was afraid of being replaced? “You’re my brother. I’ll always need you. And if you weren’t the way you are, if you were anyone else, my mate would be dead and my kingdom lost, and that’s the truth, no matter what anyone else believes. All right?”
Rafe raised his chin almost defiantly. “All right.”
“Good.” Xander said again and offered his brother a wry look. “Now really try to hold on to everything I just said, because you’re not going to like what comes next.”
Rafe scowled.
“I need you to stay in your rooms, out of sight, until after the mating ceremony.”
The blue glare deepened, but it had a resigned edge.
“I know, I know.” Xander held up his arms. “But people need to believe you’re recovering on a normal timeline. Well, a plausible timeline anyway. A few weeks and hopefully this will seem like old news.”
Xander didn’t want to give voice to the ugly thought that shouldn't be in his head, the thought he tried to push down, down, down his right arm into the invisible fist where all the malicious, nasty parts of him lived—but he couldn’t quite get rid of it.
And by then, Lyana will be mine, before the gods.
It was jealous, spiteful, and he hated himself for it.
But it was true.
He couldn’t bring himself to ask Rafe about the courtship trials now, not with that horrible thought knocking all the rest out of place. He didn’t want to accuse his brother or his mate. He didn’t want to place blame where there was none to place. Because it couldn’t be true. There was no way. Rafe loved him. Rafe was loyal. Rafe would never betray him like that, never, not with the past they shared.
He turned the conversation to lighter topics and stayed for a while longer, smiling and laughing with his brother, purging the unclean feeling before he left. By the time he got to the princess’s room, he was himself again, and the sight of her smile made his day all the brighter.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he stopped just inside the threshold, unsure if he was welcome.
Lyana was resting in her bed, being primped by the servants, tossing one of them an annoyed look as her pillow was stripped away to be fluffed. Her calf was wrapped in a fresh bandage, which meant the healers had stopped by that morning.
Sensing his gaze, she wiggled her exposed toes and said, “I’m fine.” But then she eyed him suspiciously, even as her grin widened. “Unless you mean to drag me to more lessons, in which case, I’m in excruciating pain and don’t wish to be disturbed.”
A laugh popped out before he could stop it. “No, no, I promise.”
Her eyes sparkled.
She was happy today, invigorated in a way he hadn’t expected, as though the encounter the day before had somehow freed her, made her comfortable enough in the castle and on the isle to finally let him in.
“Actually…” Xander coughed and cleared his throat as he took a few steps closer, so he could sit at the edge of her bed, their eyes at the same level. “I thought, if you were feeling healthy enough, you might want to come with me to visit the injured?”
Her expression turned somber.
“I just…” he continued, unwilling to ruin her mood. “I thought it would lift their spirits, to have their prince and new princess visit and offer Taetanos’s blessing. I can teach you the words on the way, they’re simple enough. I wish there was more to do, but the healers are doing their best. No matter how small, I want to do something.”
Lyana grasped his hand. “I’d love to.”
“Really?” he asked, not surprised so much as hopeful—hopeful this could be a turning point for them, maybe the start of something deeper.
Lyana squeezed his fingers. “There’s nothing I’d love to do more.”