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He shoved the thought down deep. Affection killed. He needed Kalles to survive because he had information Arrik needed. And at the end of the day he was the only brother Arrik could somewhat tolerate.

“Pick him up and get him outside,” Arrik ordered his warriors.

Kalles whined and then began to cackle as he finally managed to focus on Arrik. “The dutiful black knight coming to save the disgraceful youngest son? What did Father promise you this time? Another wife?”

Arrik kept his expression bland and turned on the spot, striding back out of the opium den with increasing fury as he stepped over the blissed-out bodies of lost souls. He yanked the scarf off his face and nodded to his lieutenant.

“Get the slaves out of here. Every last one of them. You have three minutes.”

His lieutenant knew better than to question this and began barking orders. The rest of the warriors bolted inside, filling the den with the cacophony of panic-ridden slaves. The patrons of the den would be too drugged-out to notice what was going on, Arrik knew, and so would be slow to react.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes and began counting. It always seemed to calm his mind and heart. Cries and shrieks filled the air as his men dragged everyone from the building and then placed them on the porch of a nearby alehouse.

…178, 179, 180…

“Everyone is out, my lord,” his lieutenant said.

Arrik opened his eyes and dropped his head. “And the prince?”

“Tied to his horse so he won’t fall off.”

Good. God forbid Kalles fall off and break his royal neck on his way home.

He nodded curtly to his lieutenant and then moved back to the entrance of the opium den. Arrik lifted one of the torches that bracketed the entrance and lit it before tossing it inside. Immediately the place caught on fire. He turned his back on the place.

Good riddance.

He did not care for the screams rising from those who’d been taken from the building in tandem with the smoke as he left Kray’s Village on his horse. Arrik did not intend to return.

Kalles swayed dangerously upon the back of his own horse, a beautiful white mare and the sister to Arrik’s own stallion. In all honesty, he did not understand how he could sit upright at all. Kalles shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun, his expression one of scandalized indignation at the fact he had to perceive daylight.

A small part of Arrik wanted to ask what had happened to his brother to make him like this. It was true that Soren pitted them against each other, and the dark elf court was a dangerous place to grow up, but once upon a time the two of them had gotten along well. Arrik would even have considered his younger brother his friend. Somewhere along the line, Kalles had turned into a spoiled, foppish, drug addict. Arrik considered how much time his younger brother likely had left before he overdosed and died. Years? Months? If Kalles kept traveling down the same path, it was days or weeks at most.

Part of him mourned. A larger part seethed with anger.

But an even bigger part told Arrik not to care. Kalles clearly didn’t.

“I have been looking for you for weeks now,” Arrik growled at his brother. “Yet every time you’re in a new drug den, with a new wench or a new pipe in your hand. What is wrong with you?”

“Haven’t you heard brother?Everything.”

“That we can agree on,” Arrik muttered. “It’s not like you to avoid me.”

“I am not…avoiding you,” Kalles said, slurring his words.

He chuckled. “Come now, I know you better than that.”

He knew why. He wanted his brother to say it.

Kalles threw his arms out, wobbling in the saddle. “This is just…who I am, brother. If you’re disappointed, then—”

“Enough with the games. Tell me why you gave the Dragon Princess a knife to murder me with on my wedding night.” Arrik had promised himself he would wait for Kalles to sober up to ask his questions. But he couldn’t wait, and part of him reasoned that Kalles might be more likely to give him an honest answer when he was too inebriated to screen his responses. His younger brother had a way with twisting words to his benefit.

It took Kalles a few moments to understand what Arrik had asked. Then he shrugged, tilted his face to the sky, and let out a horrible laugh. A garbled, choking sound. It was altogether more sad than mirthful.

“Why not?” he asked, glancing at Arrik out of the corner of his bloodshot eyes. “It’s all fun and games in our family, isn’t it? Maybe I wanted you to lose for once.”

Arrik did not believe it for a second. Even drugged out of his mind, Kalles was capable of lying. He was a master at keeping secrets; he had been even back when the two of them had been close. Perhaps it was one of the reasons theyhadbeen close, for Arrik knew he could trust Kalles with anything he told him.