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The fight was brief, but fierce enough to leave my skin burning from all the wielding, and I’m quite sure I saw Imogen limp a little as she climbed the stairs to her room.
The other riders who were out patrolling with us are in no better shape, but I have my eyes set on one.
While I certainly cannot claim to know my brother as well as I used to back then, I still know him well enough to detect pain under his carefully crafted façade of nonchalance.
I spot him subtly holding his right arm while he and Felix brief the other members of the Assembly, which might seem just a casual pose to them, but I see the way he’s clutching it, and how his focus seems elsewhere.
Of course it can't be that easy to focus on anything else, when all your effort is on mending yourself.
With a sigh, I check with Tairn and Andarna just to be sure my intuition is correct.
– Marbh confirms your concern, Tairn says sternly, never too fond of talking to my brother’s dragon. I can't really blame him, not when I feel the ghost of lingering pain for a second before he shuts me out.
– He also says he's a stubborn ass, Andarna cheerfully supplies, I guess a strong will runs in the family.
I smile a little at that, she's not wrong. Even though all in different ways, none of us has ever been easy to handle.
– And he's the chill one, I laugh in my head, but it's all the distraction I allow myself before locking my gaze on my brother again, narrowing my eyes to pay attention.
He's pale now, and I can see a hint of red where the sleeve ends near his palm.
Alright, that's enough bullshit.
I start pushing my way through the growing crowd in the hall towards him, but between one person and the other, he seems to just vanish.
Well, shit
I try not to be alarmed. Maybe it's for the best, he must have excused himself to go somewhere quiet where he can focus better, since mending himself has never been his forte, no matter how exceptional he otherwise is when fixing anything and anyone else.
Still, something doesn’t quite feel right, and I find myself seeking him out for about the next half hour.
He’s not in his room, nor wherever I think of looking, and when I ask Garrick, Ulices and a few other cadets, nobody seems to have seen him.
“What the fuck,” I mutter under my breath, stopping abruptly in the middle of the hallway. How does one simply vanish like that?!
– Just making sure. Marbh was never bonded to anyone else in our family, right?
No response from Tairn, but Andarna chuckles gently.
– No second signets for your brother, if that’s what you’re asking.
– Good, that’s good to know.
Really good to know. I still don’t know how to feel about his one secret that he’s kept for six years, I might actually throttle him if I ever find out he kept something like a second signet from me.
I sense someone approaching me, and turn around to see Bodhi walking towards me with his hands in the pockets of his flight jacket and an easy smile on his lips, although I’ve finally learnt to read him well enough to know he’s assessing the situation, figuring out if I’m in trouble or something.
I swear, if Xaden has put him too on Violet duty–
“Hi there! Please, tell me you haven’t gotten lost again,” he greets me, and I do my best to glare at him, even though I have to tilt my head to do so.
What’s with Riorson genes and the freaking height?
“I wasn’t lost the first time and I’m not this time either, but thanks for caring,” I reply, then jump onto the opportunity, “you haven’t seen my brother around by any chance, have you?”
“Brennan?” he thinks for a moment, tilting his head to the side, and from the looks of it, he’s also checking with Cuir, “I haven’t, but I may have an idea where to look for him.”
I tell him about all the places I’ve already checked, and he smiles at me again.
“Then he’s definitely where I think he is. Come on.”
He takes off without waiting for me nor checking that I am following, but I do notice him taking slower steps to allow me to reach him.
I force myself not to think too much about the fact that Bodhi knows my own brother well enough to know where to look for him when he clearly doesn’t want to be found. And yet, it stings a bit more than a little.
Six years feel like an entire lifetime of missing out.
“Where are we?” I ask, to distract myself from my musings. Glancing around, I see that we’re not far from the private quarters’ area, just a different side from the one where Xaden’s room is. If I remember correctly, this is about where Bodhi’s own room should be.
“I won’t explain anything, and you better not ask,” he replies, more serious than I’ve seen him outside of dire situations, “he hardly ever comes here unless he’s upset, though. Something happened?”
He sends me a curious glance, and I can see genuine care in his eyes. I had always thought of Xaden and Brennan as allies, and sure, they seem to be on friendly terms most of the time, but for some reason I had never stopped to think that Brennan might actually have formed bonds with the people in this household.
But yeah, now that I think of it, it would make perfect sense for him and Bodhi to get along well.
Or maybe, Bodhi just doesn’t want anything to happen to our only mender and tactician, and I’m just being a sentimental overthinker over here.
“I’m not sure,” I finally say with a shrug, “but I want to check on him.”
Bodhi nods, and not for the first time I feel like he actually understands me… He may be Xaden’s cousin, but from what I’ve learnt so far, they’re more akin to brothers, and he’s the youngest one, just like me.
Finally, we reach a door that I can feel has been locked and warded, but I can’t really tell by who. It doesn’t feel like anyone I’ve met, but at the same time… it’s familiar.
Like a deja-vu.
I furrow my brow, but when I open my mouth, Bodhi lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head:
“No questions, remember?”
I glower.
“Seriously, Violet. I’d tell you, if it was my place to. Just know… Well, if he chose to come here, then you’re definitely right to check on him.”
With that, he steps forward and knocks on the door twice, rapidly, then a third time after a few heartbeats.
It feels practiced, it feels like routine.
“Go away.”
And there it is, my brother’s muffled voice coming from the other side of the door, harder than I’ve ever heard it, but not in an angry, snappish way. More like guarded, a wounded dog trying to bare its teeth to dissuade you from getting closer.
Bodhi throws me a look that is somewhere between you sure about this? and you’re on your own from here on. Which I’m honestly grateful for.
As I thought, he understands, and he knows Brennan is not going to let me in if anyone else is standing there.
I let him walk away before turning back to the door:
“Let me in, Brennan.”
My request is met with silence, but I don’t budge. He’s stubborn, but he also knows I’m much more so than him.
It takes a minute.
“You’re still there, aren’t you?”
“Yep. Not going anywhere until you decide to let me in.”
A click, and the door opens for me. I glance at the entrance, hesitating. The wards seem strong, placed by someone who definitely knew what they were doing, and in no way this feels like Brennan’s doing.
I don’t know how I know, I just do.
He’s not even looking at me, but he still must have figured out what I was thinking, because he says,
“They’ll let you in, don’t worry.”
I take a step forward, then another. The wards feel thick against my skin for a moment, and I get again that familiar feeling, but it’s gone before I can start pinpointing it.
Once I’m in, I look around.
It’s a bedroom, almost as large as Xaden’s. A closed door hides what I’m guessing is the bathing room, and the furniture, albeit simple, is beautiful. Elegant.
Black is the main colour in this room, and everything about it screams rider. There’s a knives stack by the door, on my left, but it’s almost empty now. By the window, a human-shaped target that has definitely been there for more than a decade, and I only see marks in the head, neck, chest and stomach.
My stomach twists. Whoever had used that target, had never aimed for anything but lethal points.
Nor had they ever missed.
I glance at the rest of the room. There’s books scattered around, and most are covered in dust, as if they haven’t been touched or moved in years. But it’s the drawings that catch my attention.
It’s mostly dragons, of all kinds and colours, but most sketches are in black and white. Then, there’s portraits, faces I have never seen… except one.
Brennan is in most of those drawings, whether alone or with other riders which I assume were his squadmates in Basgiath.
My heart feels heavy with the knowledge of how little I know about my brother. And by the look on his face as he watches me looking around, his feelings are the same.
I just don’t understand. Whose bedroom is this?
He had never mentioned knowing anyone from Tyrrendor, much less someone close enough to Riorson to live here.
“Did you need anything?” Brennan asks, and I hear the strain in his voice. When I finally look at him, I notice his left hand is still pressed to his right arm, and he’s sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed, slouched forward. His eyes panic for a second. “Are you hurt?!”
I’m finally close enough to see the barest glow around his hand that gives away the fact that he’s wielding.
“No, I just wanted to check on you.”
No point in lying. I walk closer to him until I’m standing in front of him and brush a few curls back from his face, confirming what I suspected already: his body temperature is already worryingly high.
He scoffs, and I’m pretty sure he would have waved me off, if he had had one of his hands free.
“There’s no need to, I can take care of myself.”
Sure. That totally explains why he looks so pale and on the verge of hyperventilating. And I know it’s not just the exertion from wielding.
I let my own face do the talking for me until he’s forced to lower his gaze, which he brings back to his arm, blinking a few times as if struggling to put it into focus.
“It’s nothing,” he repeats, a few creases between his eyebrows, “I just… suck at mending myself.”
The last part came through clenched teeth, so full of anger and self-deprecation I cannot help but stare, my eyes wide.
“It’s alright, it’s always hard—”
He shakes his head and takes another breath, the glowing increasing around his hand. I only notice now that there’s a small, dark red puddle on the ground, directly under his limp right arm.
“It shouldn’t be. I’m supposed to do better. I can’t suck at this.”
My mouth falls shut.
He sounded so distressed, and hurt, like…
His fingers curl into the leather of his flight jacket, but he eventually just shrugs the thing off with a sound of annoyance, finally revealing the gaping cut that runs from the back of his forearm to the inner part of his wrist. I hold my breath for a second.
That looks painful.
“At least it was just a wyvern claw, and not a poisonous knife,” he shrugs, shifting to reach into his pocket for a dark piece of fabric, then closing his eyes to focus.
I look, in equal parts worried and amazed by how Brennan’s signet works.
I hardly ever got to admire the way a mender restores things back to their status, since normally I’m in either too much pain or too unconscious to witness it, but I have to say… it’s astonishing. Mesmerising.
But even I can tell the process is being painfully, unnaturally slow. He’s probably been at it for hours, through all our flight back to now, and the gash is still an angry red, blood still dripping through his fingers and the cloth he's now pressing to it.
Eventually, he just screams out in frustration and throws the cloth away, which I’m sure aggravates the pain in his arm.
I kneel in front of him and take his face into my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes.
“Don’t make me ask again, Brennan,” I take a page from Xaden’s book and try to imitate his scariest tone, “what. is. going. on?”
He stares at me like he wants to fight but is too tired to put up with me, and I'm close enough to see the way his eyes have taken a glassy look, which makes me almost recoil.
I can barely remember a time when I've seen Brennan cry.
“Is it too painful? Should we get the healers?” I ask, panicking now, and he's quick to get free from my hold and shake his head.
“Absolutely not. It's not the pain.”
But the way his face falls tells me that he wished it was.
I don't push him, just stay there waiting, steady and quiet just like he has for me many times.
And finally…
“I’ve always struggled to mend myself because the pain breaks my focus,” he starts quietly, keeping his gaze away from me, locked on something distant, “I was very careful to keep the information to myself, I couldn't let anyone know about that weakness.”
Of course he couldn't.
It felt strangely comforting to know that also my brother, the one General Sorrengail herself had raised and trained for years, had at a certain point faced the same struggles as me at Basgiath.
None of us had had an easy life there, even though my siblings were probably better equipped to endure it, especially at first.
I nod, threading carefully for fear that he'd shut me out at any moment.
“But one person figured it out, eventually.”
That's when pain finally breaks into his features, and it's the kind of hurt I have become way too familiar with.
Grief.
He struggles for a second, like he's battling himself to keep pushing the words out.
“He had always been good at it, our whole squad could hardly ever keep anything from him. I guess that's part of the reason why he became squad leader in second year. That, and–” he pauses for a second, his eyes wandering briefly towards me, “the dragon he bonded.”
I don't need Tairn’s low growling sound in my mind to know who he's talking about.
“Naolin,” I whisper, and he nods with a faint smile, his eyes so sad my heart breaks for him.
“Him and Nolon remained the only two to know this, and that is why…” he stops himself abruptly, biting his lips in a way I know is meant to hold back whatever emotion he's battling with. But I see his distress, and now that the mask has shifted, I can see so much more.
Loss, anger, guilt, helplessness… No wonder he dismissed me so quickly when I mentioned Tairn's previous rider to him.
I should have been more tactful back then.
I know where this is going, but I don't say anything else. He needs to get it out of his system, Amari knows for how long he's been dealing with this shit on his own.
I notice vaguely that he'd gone back to mending his arm as we spoke, and now at least the bleeding has stopped.
“When Fen Riorson shot that arrow, Naolin was close enough to get to me, but the damage had already been done. He pulled it out, held me through it and told me to mend myself. He begged me to, but we both knew I wouldn't have been able to do that even if it had struck somewhere else. The pain and exhaustion claimed all of my attention, and no matter how hard I tried, my control on the signet kept slipping. It was a mess,” he tries to sound casual for that last part, but isn't half convincing, “and eventually, Nao took over. I don't even know how, or what he did. All I know is I was barely conscious, telling him to stop this bullshit and just let me go, but he wouldn't listen. He pushed something into my hand,” he tilts his head just slightly towards the palm with the rune, “and then it was like something was guiding my signet through my body, mending anything in its path, ten times stronger than I've ever been able to channel.”
We both know the rest, except I only heard and read of it, while he lived it.
For a moment, my eyesight changes, and I'm no longer in that bedroom.
I'm on a battlefield, where screaming and roaring boom into my head, and as I look down, I see what my brother just described, except that the figures seem incredibly small to me.
I see him almost unconscious, and a black-haired rider holding him, keeping a hand on his chest to fight the blood loss and the other pressed to his palm. There's no wind, and yet their hair and clothes move as power swirls around them.
I see tear streaks on the warm brown skin of his face, and a faint reddish glow expanding beneath his skin, highlighting his veins as he throws back his head and lets out a raw scream.
I blink, and the vision is over. Tairn's shields are firmly back into place.
I gasp, and look up to meet my brother's gaze.
I don't know what to say, there's no words of comfort I can offer for that, nothing I can do to take that pain away from him, and yet there's nothing I wouldn't do to be able to.
“He burnt,” I say quietly.
He takes a deep breath and his jaw ticks for a moment, until he nods.
“Because I couldn't fucking mend myself.”
“That's not the reason!” I burst out, getting his attention. “An arrow to the chest, Brennan. Any mender would struggle to fix that even in someone else, this isn't about not being able to mend yourself.”
Fuck. It's all coming back.
The fear, the pain and anger I had felt when reading the reports, unbeknownst to the rest of my family, because my brother wasn't ever coming home and I'd be damned if I only took that as an answer. I had read every report, listened to every conversation, in hopes of finding out more, an explanation on who and what had taken him away from us, when his fucking signet was meant to save people.
Funnily enough, I had always asked myself why he hadn't been able to save himself, and had come to the same conclusion I was now offering to my brother. I had been mourning him for six years, and I only now understood that he'd been doing the same too, except the person he was mourning was…
Shit. I have a strong feeling of what Naolin was to Brennan, but I won't bring it up unless he does.
“I managed to save Mira after that venin slit her throat,” my brother counters darkly, avoiding my eyes again, “and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. There's like… this horrible side of me, that– it's like…” he huffs, running both hands on his face and then keeping them there, as if shielding him from the world, “I've been finding myself thinking that it's unfair. I would have been able to save someone else with that wound, but nobody was able to save me. And it led to Naolin’s death.”
I wince, because I know it's most likely true… Brennan's power has always been praised to be stronger than any other mender’s known before, I heard my mother brag about it at any given occasion in the past, and I keep getting it confirmed daily.
The poison, the wardstone, Mira.
I couldn't think of any other mender who could have pulled that.
That's why I understand his rage. It's the same helpless anger I felt when I realised I had no power to save Liam, despite I could have had the whole sky at my command.
All this power, and there's nothing I can do.
Hell, had that arrow struck Naolin directly, I'm sure he would be standing here right now.
Although I'm not sure where that would put me… The thought of never bonding Tairn, it just–
– There's no point dwelling on impossible scenarios, Silver One.
He's right. I have more important things to focus on.
I move to sit on the bed next to Brennan, scooting closer to lean my head on his shoulder, and reach for his hands, gently forcing him to lower them. His eyes are still closed, but a small smile finds its way to my lips when not even a moment later I feel him putting his cheek on my head with no hesitation, it's like it's second nature, muscle memory from countless nights spent curled up reading together.
I missed this. And after years of believing I would never get it back, it heals something deep within me to feel my brother warm and alive next to me, even when he's a wreck.
A luxury he'll never be given.
“I'm so sorry, Bren,” I whisper quietly, raising one hand to gently play with his hair, “you must miss him…”
He stiffens for a moment, but doesn't pull back or push me away. I feel his nod against me.
“This is his room, isn't it?”
His voice is feeble when he replies.
“Yeah, he… grew up here,” he says cautiously, as if checking for my reaction, which doesn't come, although my confusion grows, “he always said he couldn't wait to bring me here. Ironically, that battle was the first time I saw Aretia with him.”
My heart clenches, aching for the two young men they'd been, daydreaming of mundane things like visiting one's homeland and childhood home… I wonder if Brennan had told Naolin about me, Mira, and mom and dad. I wonder what he thought about us.
– He was fond of you the most. You two would have made a good duo.
Tairn's response takes me by surprise, and my eyes widen. I hadn't expected to receive a reply to that, nor would I ever expect that to be the answer.
I feel my own eyes prickle.
– I'm sure we would have.
After all, the same formidable dragon chose us, and Tairn already told me he chose me because I protected Andarna. Maybe one day I will get the chance to learn more about him. For now, I'll take what I've been given and treasure it.
“Not going to ask why he lived here?” Brennan's voice sounds quizzical, like he can't quite believe I'm keeping my curiosity at bay.
I laugh softly, then shift so that I can hug him.
“I don't want you to hurt,” I reply honestly, my face hidden against him, “I'll get my answers when you're ready to give them.”
I can picture his smile just fine as he returns my hug… which he does with surprising strength for someone whose arm was injured until not too long ago.
I pull back and gape at it.
“You mended it!” I exclaim.
“Somewhat,” he confirms, moving it a few times to test the range, “but that’s gonna do for now.”
I smile at him, and notice that his eyes are a bit red and puffy around the corners, but of course I’m not going to comment on it.
“Are you ready to go out there?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. He seems to be pondering for a while, his gaze wandering across the room as he considers, then he eventually shakes his head.
“I think I’ll stay here some more. But now both Bodhi and you know where to find me, if necessary.”
I nod, but make no move to stand up.
“I can stay with you a little longer, if you want me to,” I offer, unsure about whether it would do him any good to remain alone or not after this.
He considers it for a moment before pulling me in again, and that’s all the answer I need.
I close my eyes and hold him tight, and I realise just how much I owe to Naolin.
Holding onto my brother, I find myself mourning a man I’ve never met, but who gave up everything just to save Brennan’s life.
And I just might owe him everything.