Chapter 11: What Cannot Be Kept

BRAMMON'S POV

I saw it the moment the first drop touched her lips.

That flicker in Anwen’s eyes—recognition, or the beginning of it. That it had been me she clung to last night, not her so-called brother. That it had been me she begged not to leave.

And yet… her doubt lingered.

She’d been delirious, half-conscious, burning with fever. There was no telling what she truly remembered.

Anwen lowered the vial, her tongue darting out to catch the last of the sweetness. She lingered on it, lips parting slightly as if unwilling to let the taste go, her brows drawing together in faint confusion.

Then she looked up at me. And for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

No wonder Fenric wouldn’t shut up about her. Scions like us—half human, half divine—were long since immune to mortal beauty. It came with the blood. The Radiants had seen to that.

Human women had never held our interest beyond the need for heirs.

Until now.

Because Anwen… her face could humble the beauty of every Scion in existence.

Her mouth twitched, like she wanted to speak—ask something.

Before the words could come, I caught her by the waist and lifted her off my lap, setting her on her feet beside me. She wavered, blinking in confusion, as if unsure what to do now that nothing held her in place.

Then she shifted, taking a tentative step toward the door. Back to her chambers, perhaps.

Or to try her luck at running again.

But she didn’t get far.

Fenric caught her wrist before she could take a second step. “Not so fast,” he said, tugging her back.

Anwen yelped, nearly stumbling into him. When she regained her footing, she glared up at him, all fire and fury in that small frame.

“What now?” she spat.

I couldn’t help it—I smirked. Fenric did too.

Of the three of us, he was the quickest to tire of the fighting, the crying, the thrashing. But with this feisty little thing… he enjoyed it. Relished getting under her skin, crowding her space.

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, and watched them. Fenric had her by the wrist, that familiar grin already tugging at his mouth.

“Well, since you blame us for keeping you out of the sun,” he said, flicking me a glance before turning back to her, “it’s only fair I fix that.”

He gave her a small tug. “I’ll take you outside today. It’s a beautiful day.”

Anwen stilled. Even her struggling paused, something flickering across her face before she forced it down.

“No, thank you,” she said.

Fenric’s grin only widened. “Oh, come on. I know you’re trying to map out the castle. I’m handing you the chance.”

She hesitated again. I could almost see the thoughts turning behind her eyes. Her lips parted.

“I…” she began—but didn’t finish.

Fenric rose in one smooth motion. “Great. Let’s go.”

Before she could react, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder. She shrieked, kicking and pounding at his back.

“I didn’t say I wanted to!” Anwen shouted. “Put me down!”

He ignored every word. If anything, he hitched her higher over his shoulder and kept walking.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face. I could practically see his tail wagging—if he were in his beast form.

He didn’t so much as glance back, striding toward the doors as if her protests meant nothing.

Her curses followed them down the hall, fading with each step until both sound and sight were gone.

I turned back to my breakfast, though it was cold by now. It hardly mattered—I hadn’t been able to eat earlier with Anwen squirming on my lap, tense as a cornered rabbit.

When I finished, I stood and left the room.

For a moment, I considered following Fenric and Anwen, just to make sure he wasn’t pushing her too far. But I forced myself in the opposite direction.

I kept walking until the corridor opened onto the staircase leading to Rhydan’s landing balcony. I knew he’d be there, brooding as usual.

The balcony overlooked the labyrinth and the Whispering Woods beyond. Rhydan stood at the railing, eyes fixed on something below. I followed his gaze.

Fenric and Anwen, nearly at the end of the maze, slipping into the forest. He’d already put her down. I imagined she must still be yelling, cursing him for every step he forced her to take. I fought down a grin.

“Our brother seems to have taken a liking to this one,” I muttered.

Rhydan didn’t look at me. “Fenric’s a mutt,” he said dryly. “He goes into rut whenever he scents a female from miles off.”

I shook my head. “No. He’s different with this one.” I nodded toward the figures disappearing into the trees. “See that?”

Rhydan didn’t answer.

So I went on. “She’s a beauty, don’t you think?”

“Beautiful women have come before,” he said, voice flat.

I smirked. “Not this beautiful.” I leaned my elbows on the railing. “Earlier… that was the first time you saw her face without the mud smearing it. You were caught off guard. Don’t deny it—I saw you.”

Rhydan scoffed, the sound low and humorless. “Her beauty won’t change anything,” he said. “It won’t save her from what’s coming.”

His grip tightened on the railing. “She’ll either die here with us,” he went on, his voice flat as stone, “while we try to force an heir out of her… or she’ll be handed over to something far worse.”

I said nothing. Because he wasn’t wrong.

Rhydan finally turned, his gaze cutting toward me. “Bottom line—she won’t be staying with us for long,” he said. “If I were you two, I wouldn’t get too attached.”

I huffed under my breath, crossing my arms. “I’m not getting attached.”

Rhydan raised a brow. “No?”

He turned his head just enough for me to see the edge of his smirk. “I saw you last night with the girl.”

If I were capable of blushing, I’d have burned red. Good thing I wasn’t. Still, I wondered how much he’d seen last night.

Had he noticed I stayed longer than necessary? The way I watched her while she slept? Or how my fingers lingered in her golden hair?

He spoke again. “And this morning—you were up before dawn, weren’t you? Preparing berries for her draught.”

My jaw tightened. “I was trying to nurse her back to health. Like we agreed. We’re supposed to be careful with her.”

Rhydan shrugged dismissively. “I’m just reminding you,” he said. “Every death has cost us. All of them.” His jaw tightened. “It’ll be worse if you start caring for the girl.”

His gaze drifted past me, out over the woods—but I knew he wasn’t seeing them. He was seeing ghosts.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Even now—after barely a day—I couldn’t picture Anwen dying in our hands. Or worse, being dragged off to suffer under someone else. The thought alone sent something cold and furious coiling in my gut.

I lifted my gaze to Rhydan. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “There’s one way for her to stay.”

Rhydan turned fully this time, his frown deepening. “What?”

He knew exactly what I meant. 

Still, I opened my mouth to say it—to give voice to the one thing none of us had ever dared suggest. Only because it had never been done before.

But movement in the sky caught my eye.

A crow. Flying straight toward us.

Not an ordinary one.

It landed on the balcony rail, feathers shivering. Then its body stretched, twisted, reshaped into a man.

“Corbin,” I said.

He dusted off the last of the feathers clinging to his clothes. “My kings,” he greeted, tilting his head. “King Gadreel is heading this way. He requests an audience.”

Rhydan tensed, shoulders going rigid. He turned to me, eyes sharp.

“The girl,” he said. “Get the girl inside.”