Page 76

I sighed, watching as a crimson butterfly, one of the rare living things in my realm, fluttered past the window, its delicate wings carrying it effortlessly through the darkness. For centuries, I'd blamed Maxiun for taking my mother away. For creating the rift in our family. I'd convinced myself that he'd manipulated the situation, used my father's death to finallyclaim Claudia entirely for himself. I'd painted him as the villain in my mind, recasting a family tragedy as betrayal.

But now...

Now I understood. If anything happened to Sierra, I would be destroyed. Not just sad or angry, but fundamentally broken in a way that might never heal. The thought of her silver hair dulled with death, her fierce eyes closed forever... it was unbearable. If Maxiun offered Claudia shelter from that pain, how could I blame her for taking it? If he provided a safe haven for her to raise Callum away from the politics and dangers of the Underworld, wasn't that an act of love rather than selfishness? Wasn't he simply offering her what I would offer Sierra in the same circumstances?

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes. All those years wasted on resentment. All that time I could have had a brother, a family, instead of the lonely existence I'd carved out for myself. The regret tasted bitter on my tongue, sharp as unripe fruit.

The Shadow Beast's threat loomed over us now, making these reflections seem both trivial and vital. What good was power, what good was ruling a realm, if you had no one to share it with? No one to protect? What purpose did my crown serve if all it did was isolate me from those who mattered most?

"You're brooding again."

I didn't turn at the sound of Callum's voice, but I felt my lips curve into a small smile despite myself. "I'm contemplating. There's a difference." The familiar cadence of this exchange, one we'd had a dozen times since his return, was oddly comforting.

"Not from where I'm standing." His footsteps were nearly silent as he crossed the room to join me at the window, a testament to his Fae heritage. "You get this little crease between your eyebrows when you're thinking too hard. Always have, evenwhen we were young." He gestured vaguely toward my face, his pale green eyes reflecting the twilight beyond the glass.

I glanced at him, surprised. "You remember that?" Such a small detail to have carried through centuries of estrangement.

"I remember everything about you, brother." The word was gentle, an offering. "You were my hero, you know. Before everything fell apart. I used to follow you everywhere, trying to walk in your footsteps. Literally. I thought if I could just step exactly where you stepped, some of your power would transfer to me." A rueful smile touched his lips. "Mother found it hilarious."

Something tightened in my chest, a pressure both painful and welcome. "I wasn't much of a hero afterward."

"No," he agreed easily. "You were a right bastard for a few centuries there. Insufferable, really."

I snorted. "Only a few?"

His reflection smiled in the glass beside mine, the family resemblance suddenly striking despite our different fathers. "You've improved marginally in recent decades. I'd say you're almost tolerable now."

We stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the gardens below. One of my hellhounds prowled the perimeter, its massive form casting an even larger shadow. The beast paused, nose lifting to scent the air, before continuing its vigilant circuit.

"I've been thinking about Father," I admitted finally, the words falling between us like stones into still water.

Callum nodded. "I thought you might be. This situation with the Shadow Beast... it brings back memories."

"Do you remember that day?" I watched him from the corner of my eye, curious about his perspective, wondering if his memories aligned with mine or if time and youth had altered them.

"Parts of it. I was young. I remember Mother crying. I remember Maxiun carrying me through the shadow paths because I was too upset to walk properly. I was terrified." His voice softened. "I remember looking back for you as we left. I didn't understand why you weren't coming with us."

I turned to look at him directly. "I blamed you both for leaving. For a long time. I believed you had chosen Maxiun over me, over Father's memory." The admission cost me something, a pride I'd held onto for too long.

"I know." His eyes, so like our mother's, held no judgment. "And I blamed you for not coming with us. For choosing the Underworld over family. For shutting me out when I needed my big brother most."

"I didn't see it as a choice.” The justification sounded hollow, even to my own ears. "This realm needed a ruler."

"And you needed your family," he countered, not unkindly. "But we were all too stubborn and hurt to see that clearly. Too caught in our own grief to recognize the grief in others."

I couldn't argue with that. The truth of it resonated through years of miscommunication and missed opportunities. "It seems we've been given a second chance."

"Through Sierra," he agreed. "And Archer. The fates have a strange sense of humor."

"An unlikely quartet." The corner of my mouth twitched upward.

Callum laughed, the sound warming the cool air between us. "The fates works in mysterious ways. Three men, one woman. Who would have guessed?"

I shook my head, still marveling at how things had unfolded. "If someone had told me months ago that I'd be reconciling with my brother over a shared mate..."

"You'd have eviscerated them on the spot," Callum finished for me. "Slowly, with considerable creativity."

"Precisely."