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I choked at that. Wiping my arm across my mouth as I coughed, I said, “So there is something to share?”

“Not yet.”

“Mali,” I began. “I think you learned that keeping things in does nothing for you.” Now he and Cypherion both turned skeptical looks on me. “Okay, fine. We’ve both learned how that can hurt. My point is, don’t run from this. We can all see what she’s done for you. When we left Damenal, you were still that damn shadow of yourself. You’ve got a bit of your old spark back since being here.”

“Tolek’s right,” Cyph added when Malakai opened his mouth to argue. “You seem like you have…purpose again.”

Malakai straightened his spine, running a hand down his leathers. “I think I might. Or an idea of it, at least.” Then he deflated a bit, some realization crossing behind his eyes. “I don’t know, though. What she survived…what she faced during the war…” He chose his words carefully. “Lucidius did that.”

Ah…his reluctance was not because of Mila, then. It wasn’t even because of himself or the ghosts of his past he still battled. This doubt was because of Lucidius’s hand in whatever Mila had endured.

“That is not your doing, Mali,” Cyph said.

“I don’t know if she agrees.”

“Have you asked her?” Cypherion prodded.

Malakai averted his eyes, so the answer was clearly no. Because he was scared or did not want to push her or some combination of the two. “Do you still blame Barrett for Kakias’s actions?”

“No,” Mali said, grimacing. “I know better than that now.”

I didn’t linger on the fact that Malakai had accepted his half-brother in these last few months, though it warmed my spirit. “And do you think Mila is smart and compassionate enough to see the same?”

“She is extremely intelligent and understands emotional trauma better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“And you deserve good things,” I said.

“Don’t stand in your own way,” Cyph finished.

Malakai contemplated that, kicking his boot through the snow. I studied his expression, how it morphed from thoughtful to pained to a sly smirk as he considered our words.

Cyph dropped to one of the stumps surrounding the fire. He rested his arms on his knees, his bottle dangling between his fingers as he chewed over his own dilemmas he refused to discuss with us. I wished he would. Wished he’d stop bottling up his pain, but when you grew up the way he did, it was easier I supposed.

Cypherion had been alone for a long time before we took him in. He carried more on his shoulders than any young boy should have. A caretaker—that’s what he was. One who took what was thrown at him without complaint and found a way to make it work.

I hoped one day he’d stop only making it work. I hoped he would recognize his worth the same way he tried to show Malakai his.

Standing here between the two stubborn asses that were my chosen brothers, I relaxed a bit. They made me feel at home. The second most at home I’d ever felt. The goodbye we’d be saying soon tore through my chest. There were a lot of those happening lately.

“Have you spoken with your sister much?” Malakai asked.

I furrowed my brow at the abrupt change of topic. “No?”

“You should.” Malakai nodded.

Lyria was a sensitive topic. I was still understanding the wedges my father dug between us. But when I’d explained it to Ophelia, she’d had nothing but gentle encouragement.

“Yeah…” My voice trailed off for a long pause. “You know,” I said, draining the rest of my ale, “I think I have to go.”

Cyph’s head snapped up from where he’d been entranced with the fire.

“Yeah,” Malakai agreed, suddenly eager. “I do, too.”

Cypherion sighed as we both clapped him on the shoulder and left. “Don’t mind me,” his voice followed us. “I’ll be here alone.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Malakai