THE BROTHERHOOD, CONQUERED
Aelin — Winter 1984
The elixir incident left marks on all of them, some visible, some not. But Aelin had a way of healing its own, and in the weeks that followed, the Brotherhood settled into a rhythm that was almost peaceful. Training resumed. Council meetings returned to their usual tedium. Nathan disappeared into his workshop for days at a time, which everyone recognized as his version of contentment. Erik drilled his troops with renewed purpose. Connor's nightmares still came, but less often, and Indira was always there when they did.
And Ricky... Ricky came back from a meet-and-greet in Los Angeles with a souvenir nobody wanted.
The Sentinel had returned feeling "a little off", which he'd dismissed as exhaustion from teleporting back and forth across the country all week. By morning, he was sprawled across his bed in the castle guest wing, wrapped in every blanket he could reach, shivering despite the room being a comfortable seventy degrees.
Colin found him like that when he came to check on him.
"I'm dying," Ricky announced dramatically, his voice muffled by the three pillows he'd piled around his head. "Tell my family I loved them. Tell the band they can have my guitars. Tell that really hot blonde from the Denver show that I'll miss her even though I can't remember her name."
Colin pressed a hand to Ricky's forehead and winced. "You're running a fever. When did this start?"
"Last night. Thought it was just tired. Now everything hurts." Ricky's eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, were glassy and unfocused. "Colin, I tried to shift into a cat to escape the pain. Do you know what being sick as a cat feels like?"
"I can honestly say I don't."
"It's worse. So much worse. Your whiskers hurt. Your tail hurts. I didn't even know tails could hurt!" He groaned and pulled a blanket over his head. "Never shifting again. This is how I die. As a human. Tell Jace I'm sorry I never became the spider just to mess with him."
Colin tried not to smile. "You're not dying. It's probably just the flu."
"Just the flu?" Ricky's voice rose to a fever-pitched wail. "Colin, I can tear holes in space, shapeshift into any animal, and move faster than most people can blink. And I'm being taken down by a virus. A tiny little virus that I can't even fight!"
"I'll get you some water and medicine," Colin said, backing toward the door.
"Don't leave me!" Ricky's hand shot out from under the blankets, grabbing for Colin with surprising speed. "What if I die alone? What if my last words are something stupid like 'tell that blonde'?"
Colin gently extracted himself from Ricky's grip. "I'll be right back. I promise."
As he left, he heard Ricky mutter miserably, "This is worse than that time I got stuck as a pigeon for three hours..."
By morning, Connor was down.
Leo found the Visionary in his chambers, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, his long dark ringlets hanging limply around his face.
"Connor?"
"The world is ending," Connor said without looking up. His voice was hoarse and nasal.
Leo's blood ran cold. Connor's visions were never wrong. "What did you see?"
"Fire. Destruction. The castle crumbling. Everyone screaming." Connor lifted his head, and Leo saw his emerald eyes were fever-bright and glassy. "It's all going to burn, Leo."
Leo approached cautiously, pressing a hand to Connor's forehead. "Connor, you're burning up. Are you sure this is a vision or..."
"I SAW IT!" Connor's voice cracked. "The Great Hall, engulfed in flames! Nathan standing in the middle of it, laughing maniacally!"
"That's... that's probably just Nathan making tea," Leo said carefully.
Connor blinked. "What?"
"Nathan. Making tea. In the Great Hall. With fire. Because he's the Conjurer. Not because he's gone mad and decided to burn down the castle."
Connor stared at him, his fever-addled brain trying to process this. "Oh." His face crumpled. "Leo, I think I have the flu."
"I think you're right."
"I'm never leaving this bed again," Connor declared, flopping backward dramatically. "Tell the record label we're done. Tell the fans to remember me as I was, young, talented, beautiful. Tell Ricky I'm sorry I called his guitar playing 'technically proficient but emotionally vacant' that one time."
"You said that to him yesterday during rehearsal."
"Well now I'm really sorry." Connor pulled a pillow over his face. "Everything hurts. My head hurts. My throat hurts. My hair hurts."
"Hair can't hurt."
"MINE DOES!"
Leo sighed. "I'll get you some medicine."
"Don't leave!" Connor shot upright, grabbing Leo's arm. "What if I have another vision? What if I see something terrible and there's no one here to tell me it's just Nathan making toast?"
"I'll be right outside the door," Leo promised, stepping free of Connor's grip. "You'll be fine."
As Leo left, he heard Connor mutter feverishly, "The shadows are moving. Are the shadows supposed to move? Leo? LEO!"
Leo pressed his forehead against the door and prayed for patience. This was going to be a long week.
Jace woke up knowing something was terribly wrong.
His head pounded. His throat felt like he'd swallowed broken glass. His muscles ached. But worse, so much worse, was the empathic feedback.
He could feel Ricky's misery from three floors away. Connor's feverish anxiety was pressing against his consciousness like a physical weight. And now he was adding his own symptoms to the mix, creating a loop of absolute wretchedness.
When Yara came to check on him, she found the King of Aelin cocooned in blankets with all the curtains drawn, a pillow pressed over his face.
"Your Majesty?"
"Go away," came the muffled response.
"Jace, you have a council meeting in an hour..."
"Cancel it. Cancel everything. I'm dying."
Yara approached the bed. "You're not dying. Based on the reports from Colin and Leo, you have the flu."
The pillow moved slightly. "I can feel them, Yara. I can feel all of them. Ricky thinks his tail hurts even though he doesn't have a tail right now. Connor is convinced the world is ending every fifteen minutes. And I can feel my own fever on top of theirs and it's..." His voice cracked. "It's too much. Make it stop."
"I can't make it stop, but I can help you manage it." She reached for the pillow, but Jace's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist with surprising strength.
"Don't. Touch. The pillow." His amber-gold eyes were fever-bright when they met hers. "The pillow is the only thing standing between me and feeling everyone's emotions in a three-mile radius. The pillow stays."
"Alright," Yara said. "The pillow stays. But you need to drink water."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're dehydrated and running a fever."
"Can't. Everything is too loud. Too much feeling." His grip on her wrist tightened. "Yara, I can feel your concern for me. I can feel your worry about the council meeting. I can feel your slight annoyance that I'm being difficult. I can feel Samantha's worry from across the castle. I can feel the guards outside wondering if they should check on me. I can feel everything and I just want it to stop."
Something in Yara's face shifted. "Then let me help you block it out. We'll close the door. I'll send everyone away from this wing. It'll just be you and me, and I promise to keep my emotions as neutral as possible."
He stared at her, then slowly released her wrist. "You can't keep your emotions neutral. Nobody can."
"Then I'll think very boring thoughts. I'll mentally recite the Aelinian tax code. That's emotionally neutral, right?"
Despite everything, Jace's mouth twitched slightly. "The tax code is deeply upsetting, actually."
"Fine. I'll think about... rocks. Boring, emotionally neutral rocks."
"Rocks are fine," he mumbled, pulling the pillow back over his face. "Think about rocks. Nice, quiet, unfeeling rocks."
Twenty minutes later, Yara returned with water and medicine to find Jace radiating waves of absolute misery.
"You were thinking about rocks," he accused from under the pillow.
"I was!"
"You were thinking about how rocks are formed through immense geological pressure and heat over millions of years, and then you felt awe at the wonder of natural processes, and now I can feel your awe and it's making my headache worse!"
"I'm sorry! Rocks are more interesting than I thought!"
"Think about nothing. Think about the void. Think about..." He groaned. "Never mind. Just leave the water and go. Please."
"I'm not leaving you alone when you're this sick."
"Then sit in the corner and think about absolutely nothing."
Yara settled into a chair in the far corner of the room and tried very, very hard to think about nothing. She lasted approximately ninety seconds before her mind wandered to wondering if she should check on him again, which made Jace groan and pull another blanket over his head.
Yara settled deeper into the chair and accepted her fate.
Erik held out for longer than anyone expected.
The Warrior's superhuman constitution meant he could fight off most illnesses with ease. But the flu virus, it turned out, didn't care about super strength or Warrior Amulets or being the High General of Aelin's military forces.
Sidney found him in his chambers, standing in the middle of the room wearing seventeen blankets like a cape, staring at his hands like they had personally let him down.
"Erik?"
"I tried to pick up a glass of water," Erik said. His voice had the flatness of a man who had just been betrayed by something he trusted completely. "I accidentally crushed it."
Sidney looked at the shattered glass on the floor, then back at Erik's face. The massive Viking looked utterly devastated.
"It's because your fever is affecting your control..."
"I crushed it, Sidney. I can lift boulders. I can throw enemy soldiers like they're made of paper. I can punch through stone walls. But I can't hold a glass of water without destroying it." His electric blue eyes were glassy with fever and something that looked suspiciously like tears. "What kind of Warrior am I?"
"The kind who has the flu and needs to sit down before he falls down," Sidney said firmly, guiding Erik toward the bed.
Erik allowed himself to be led but continued his tragic monologue. "I tried to train this morning. Thought I could work through it. Know what happened?"
"You should not have been training..."
"I threw a practice dummy so hard it went through two walls and landed in the kitchens. Cook is very upset with me." He slumped onto the bed, still wrapped in his blanket-cape. "I'm a menace. A danger to glassware and practice equipment everywhere."
Sidney pressed a hand to Erik's forehead and cursed softly. "You're burning up. When did this start?"
"Yesterday. Thought I could push through it. I'm the Warrior. Warriors don't get sick." He looked up at Sidney with the saddest expression Sidney had ever seen on a grown man's face. "Sidney, I'm cold."
"You have seventeen blankets."
"I need more."
Sidney surveyed the six-foot-six mountain of muscle currently shivering like a lost puppy and sighed. "I'll get more blankets."
"And soup?" Erik's voice was small and hopeful. "Rebekah makes really good soup. Do you think she'd make me soup?"
"I'll ask her."
"Don't tell her I'm sick. She'll worry. I don't want her to worry." He paused. "But also tell her I'm dying so she knows to make extra soup."
"You're not dying."
"I might be. Everything hurts. My hair hurts."
"Connor said the same thing."
"Then it's serious. Call Nathan. He needs to make an elixir to cure this. An anti-flu elixir. A flu-be-gone elixir." Erik was rambling now, his fever clearly affecting him. "We'll test it first this time. Make sure it's the right vial. Learn from our mistakes. Sidney, are you writing this down?"
"You need to rest."
"Can't rest. I'm the High General. I have responsibilities. What if Aelin is attacked while I'm sick? What if I have to defend the island and I accidentally throw an enemy soldier into the next county?" He grabbed Sidney's arm, gently, for once, too weak to accidentally hurt him. "Sidney, promise me you won't let me throw anyone into the next county."
"I promise," Sidney said, freeing his arm. "Now lie down before you fall down."
Erik flopped backward onto the bed, his blanket-cape spreading around him like wings. "I'm a terrible Warrior. Can't even drink water. Can't control my strength. Can't stop being cold."
"You're a Warrior with the flu. There's a difference."
"Tell that to the glass," Erik mumbled, already half-asleep. "Poor glass. Never stood a chance."
Sidney watched as the mighty Warrior of Aelin drifted off, still wrapped in seventeen blankets, murmuring about soup and glassware. He made a mental note to send word to Rebekah. Rebekah would want to know that her Warrior was currently the world's largest, saddest blanket burrito.
Nathan was the last to fall, and he fell hard.
The Conjurer had watched his four brothers succumb one by one, all while insisting he would be fine. His constitution was excellent. He took vitamins. He washed his hands religiously. The flu wouldn't dare touch the eldest member of the Brotherhood.
The flu, as it turned out, had no respect for rank, age, or personal hygiene habits.
Galena found him in his workshop at three in the morning, hunched over his worktable, surrounded by vials and notes. He was shivering despite the three sweaters he'd layered on, and his sandy brown hair was plastered to his forehead with fever-sweat.
"Nathan."
"I'm fine," he said without looking up. His voice was hoarse. "Just need to finish this formula. Anti-viral elixir. Revolutionary. Going to cure everyone."
"Nathan, you can barely sit upright."
"I'm fine." He reached for a vial and knocked it over instead. It rolled across the table and crashed to the floor. "That was... that was just a calibration test. Testing gravity. Still works. Good to know."
Galena moved around the table and pressed her hand to his forehead. He tried to pull away, but his reflexes were too slow.
"You're burning up. You have the flu."
"Impossible. I'm the Conjurer. I control the elements. I can't be brought down by microscopic..." He sneezed, and a small burst of flame erupted from his hands, singeing his notes. They both stared at the smoking paper. "That was... intentional. Controlled burn. For science."
"Nathan."
"I just need to finish this elixir and..." He swayed dangerously on his stool.
Galena caught him before he could topple over. "You need to be in bed."
"Can't. My brothers need me. They're all sick. I'm the only one left. I have to..." He coughed, and a gust of wind suddenly swept through the workshop, scattering papers everywhere. "That wasn't me. That was the window. The window did that."
"The window is closed."
Nathan blinked slowly, processing this information. "Then it was... an enemy wind. A rogue wind. We should report this to security."
"Or," Galena said patiently, "your elemental control is being affected by your fever and you need to rest before you accidentally set something important on fire."
"I would never set something important on fire," Nathan said with great dignity. Then he sneezed again, and a decorative tapestry on the wall burst into flames.
They both stared at it.
"That was unimportant," Nathan decided. "That tapestry was ugly anyway."
Galena waved her hand, and water materialized from nowhere, dousing the flames. "Bed. Now."
"But the elixir..."
"Can wait until you're not a fire hazard."
Nathan tried to stand on his own and immediately listed to the left like a ship taking on water. Galena caught him again, supporting his weight as she guided him toward their chambers.
"I'm fine," he insisted, even as he leaned heavily on her. "Just a little tired. Maybe a small fever. Nothing serious. I'll be back at work in an hour."
"You're going to bed and staying there."
"You can't tell me what to do. I'm the second-in-command of the Brotherhood. I'm the Conjurer. I'm..." He sneezed, and the temperature in the hallway dropped twenty degrees instantly, frost forming on the walls. "I'm very cold suddenly."
"That's because you just froze the hallway."
Nathan looked at the frost with confusion. "Did I do that?"
"Yes."
"Interesting. I should write that down. Fever affects elemental control in unexpected ways. This could be useful data for..." He swayed again.
"Nathan, if you pass out in this hallway, I'm leaving you here."
"You wouldn't do that. You love me."
"I do love you. Which is why I'm going to get you to bed before you accidentally conjure a hurricane or turn the castle into an ice palace."
By the time they reached their chambers, Nathan was barely conscious. Galena got him into bed, covered him with blankets, and watched as he immediately started shivering.
"I should check on my brothers," he mumbled, his eyes already closing. "They need me. I'm the eldest. It's my responsibility."
"Your brothers are fine. They're all being taken care of."
"But what if they need soup? Erik likes soup. I should make him soup. With fire. Controlled fire. I'm very good at controlled fire." He frowned. "Usually."
"Erik has soup. Rebekah made him seventeen batches of soup."
"That seems excessive," Nathan said seriously. "One person can't eat seventeen soups. That's too many soups. Someone should tell her."
"I'll tell her," Galena promised, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "Now sleep."
"Can't sleep. Too much to do. Have to perfect the anti-viral elixir. Have to check on Jace. He's probably feeling everyone's flu symptoms and that's terrible. Have to make sure Connor hasn't had any apocalyptic visions about toast. Have to..." He yawned hugely. "Have to stay awake."
"Nathan."
"Yes?"
"Sleep."
"Okay," he agreed, his eyes already closed. "But just for a minute. Just a very short nap. And then I'll get back to work and..."
He was asleep before he could finish the sentence, snoring softly. Small sparks occasionally flickered across his hands, and the temperature in the room kept fluctuating between tropical heat and arctic cold. Galena settled into a chair nearby, prepared for a long night of elemental babysitting.
The Brotherhood of Aelin, mighty warriors all, had been defeated by the flu. And Galena allowed herself a smile.
By day seven, all five members of the Brotherhood were still down, and Galena had called an emergency council meeting of the aides and partners.
They gathered in a small conference room: Sidney, Colin, Leo, Yara, Matthew, and Galena herself. They all looked exhausted.
"Status report," Galena said, massaging her temples. "How are they doing?"
Colin spoke first. "Ricky tried to teleport to the kitchen this morning. He made it three feet and ended up half-stuck in the wall. I had to call Sidney and Leo to help pull him out. He's now confined to bed by threat of having his portal abilities temporarily bound."
"He also threatened to shift into a cat and escape through the window," Colin continued. "I pointed out that it's a forty-foot drop. He said, and I quote, 'Cats always land on their feet.' I had to explain that sick cats with impaired coordination do not always land on their feet."
Leo raised his hand. "Connor has had six apocalyptic visions today. Five were about breakfast foods achieving sentience. One was about Nathan turning into a dragon made of soup."
Everyone stared at him.
"I don't ask questions anymore," Leo said. "I just write them down and tell him they're not real. He cried for twenty minutes about the sentient toast. He was deeply concerned about its feelings."
Yara spoke up next. "Jace refuses to let anyone within ten feet of him except me. He says he can feel everyone's worry and it's making his headache worse. Yesterday he made a guard cry just by looking at him. Apparently he accidentally projected his misery so strongly that the poor man thought he was dying."
"I've started thinking about rocks again," Yara continued. "Very boring rocks. Very emotionally neutral. He still complained that I was thinking them too loudly."
Sidney cleared his throat. "Erik has stopped crushing glassware, but only because I've switched everything to metal containers. He's currently wrapped in twenty-three blankets, yes, I counted, and has refused to get out of bed unless Rebekah comes to visit. When she does visit, he tries to act tough and stoic, lasts approximately four minutes, and then asks her if she thinks his hair looks okay when he's sick."
"He also cried yesterday," Sidney added. "Because he missed training with his troops and thought they'd forgotten about him. I had to bring three of his generals to his window to wave at him. He cried harder because he was so moved by their loyalty."
Galena sighed deeply. "Nathan is convinced he can work through this. He keeps trying to sneak out of bed to return to his workshop. Yesterday he made it six steps before he passed out in the hallway. I had to drag him back."
"His elemental control is still erratic," she continued. "This morning he sneezed and accidentally created a small localized thunderstorm in our bedroom. Our bed is still damp. He apologized profusely and then tried to dry it with fire, which nearly set the mattress ablaze."
They all sat in silence, contemplating the absolute chaos that was the Brotherhood's illness.
"They've fought off Aldus's invasions," Colin said. "They've survived psychological warfare. They've conquered their worst fears made manifest. And the flu is what breaks them."
"To be fair," Matthew said, "I've never seen them face an enemy they couldn't punch, teleport away from, or set on fire. The flu is... different."
"How much longer do we think this will last?" Yara asked.
"Normal flu runs about seven to ten days," Galena said. "We're on day seven. Theoretically, they should start improving soon."
"Theoretically," Leo repeated. "But this is the Brotherhood we're talking about. Nothing is ever simple."
As if on cue, there was a loud CRASH from the direction of Nathan's workshop, followed by a burst of bright light and the sound of Nathan yelling, "I'M FINE! EVERYTHING'S FINE! THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!"
Galena closed her eyes. "He picked the lock on the workshop."
"Should we..." Sidney started.
"No," Galena said firmly. "Let him blow something up. Maybe it'll tire him out enough that he'll finally sleep for more than twenty minutes."
Another explosion. This one was followed by Nathan's voice, significantly less confident: "GALENA? I MAY NEED SOME HELP!"
Galena stood with the determination of a woman who had been dealing with this for seven straight days and intended to survive an eighth. "Meeting adjourned. Try to keep them alive and contained for another few days. And if anyone has any ideas for keeping five superpowered men in their beds without using actual restraints, I'm open to suggestions."
As she left to deal with whatever Nathan had accidentally conjured, Sidney called after her, "For what it's worth, you're all doing an amazing job!"
The others nodded, and something warm passed between them. They were the unsung heroes of this crisis, the ones keeping the Brotherhood alive and preventing them from accidentally destroying the castle with their fever-addled powers.
It wasn't glorious. But someone had to do it.
On day ten, the Brotherhood began, reluctantly, to improve.
"Started" being the operative word.
Ricky was the first to emerge from his room, looking significantly worse for wear but mobile. His light auburn curls were a disaster, his face was pale, and he moved like an old man, but he was up.
"I'm never getting sick again," he announced to Colin as he shuffled into the kitchen. "Never. I'm going to live in a bubble. A sterile, germ-free bubble."
"That seems excessive."
"You didn't feel what it's like to have a fever as a cat, Colin. Your whiskers should never hurt. Never."
Connor emerged next, still shaky but coherent. His visions had finally returned to normal, which meant he was back to seeing actual future events rather than apocalyptic scenarios involving breakfast foods.
"I saw the future," he told Leo seriously as he slowly made his way down the stairs.
Leo tensed. "What did you see?"
"Next Tuesday, Nathan's going to make really good soup."
Leo stared at him. "That's it? That's your vision?"
"It's going to be really good soup, Leo. Like, life-changing soup. We should all be there for it."
"I'm glad your visions are back to normal," Leo said diplomatically.
Erik ventured out of his room looking haggard but determined. He'd reduced his blanket count to a more reasonable three, and he'd managed to drink from a glass without crushing it.
"I need to check on my troops," he told Sidney.
"You can barely stand."
"I'm the High General. I have responsibilities." He took two steps and had to lean against the wall. "After a brief rest."
"Your troops are fine. They've been training without you. Everything's under control."
Erik's face crumpled. "They don't need me anymore."
"That's not... Erik, you're still sick. Your emotions are all over the place. They absolutely need you. They've been asking about you constantly."
"Really?" Erik's electric blue eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Really. Now go sit down before you fall down."
Jace was the last to leave his chambers, mainly because his empathy was still overwhelmed by everyone else's recovering states. He emerged looking like death warmed over, his long dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, his amber-gold eyes still ringed with exhaustion.
"I can still feel all of you," he said to the assembled Brotherhood in the small dining room. "You're all miserable in slightly different ways. Ricky's annoyed that he can't shapeshift properly yet. Connor's excited about soup. Erik's emotional about his troops. And Nathan..." He looked at the Conjurer, who was slumped at the table with his head in his hands. "Nathan's mad at himself for not perfecting the anti-viral elixir yet."
"I was close," Nathan muttered. "So close. But then I accidentally created a small thunderstorm in my workshop and had to start over."
"You created a thunderstorm because you were sick," Galena reminded him. "Because your elemental control was compromised."
"I still should have..."
"Nathan," Jace said firmly, "stop. We all survived. We're all recovering. That's what matters."
They sat in companionable silence, five powerful men reduced to recovering invalids, surrounded by their long-suffering partners and aides.
"We're never speaking of this again," Ricky announced. "This never happened. The Brotherhood was not defeated by the flu."
"Agreed," Connor said immediately.
"Absolutely," Erik added.
"No one must ever know," Nathan said solemnly.
Jace looked at each of them, then at the aides and partners who'd kept them alive through the worst of it. "Agreed. This stays between us."
"Although," Connor said thoughtfully, "if anyone asks, we should probably tell them we were fighting off a powerful magical curse. That sounds much better."
"A curse that made us see apocalyptic visions about toast?" Leo asked dryly.
"We'll leave that part out," Connor said quickly.
Galena stood, surveying the assembled group. "Well then. I propose we all rest for one more day before attempting to return to normal activities. And I propose that in the future, if any of you feel the slightest bit ill, you stay in bed before you infect the entire Brotherhood."
"That seems reasonable," Nathan said.
"Also," Sidney added, "perhaps we should implement a quarantine protocol. For future reference."
"Definitely," Colin agreed. "And maybe stock up on metal containers for Erik."
"I didn't crush that many glasses," Erik protested weakly.
"You crushed seventeen glasses, two mugs, and a metal water bottle," Sidney said. "We have a list."
Erik slumped further in his chair. "I'm never getting sick again either."
"None of us are," Ricky declared. "We're going to boost our immune systems. We're going to take vitamins. We're going to wash our hands obsessively. We're going to become the healthiest rock band in history."
"That seems unlikely," Connor pointed out. "We tour constantly. We shake hands with thousands of people. We..."
"LET ME HAVE THIS, CONNOR!"
Jace held up a hand before the argument could escalate. "Gentlemen. We survived. We're recovering. Our aides and partners kept us alive despite our best efforts to the contrary. I think we can all agree that this was a learning experience."
"We learned that the Brotherhood can be taken down by a microscopic virus," Nathan said morosely.
"We learned that we have incredible support systems," Jace corrected. "And that even at our most pathetic, people still care about us."
The aides and partners exchanged glances, and despite their exhaustion, they smiled.
"Also," Ricky added, "we learned that Connor has visions about sentient toast when he's feverish."
"We agreed never to speak of this!" Connor protested.
"The toast thing is funny though," Erik said. He was smiling despite himself.
"The toast was deeply concerning," Connor insisted. "It had feelings."
And despite their exhaustion, despite the misery of the past ten days, the Brotherhood began to laugh. Weak, tired laughter, but genuine nonetheless.
They had faced down ancient enemies. They had survived psychological warfare. They had conquered their worst fears.
And now they had survived the flu.
Barely.
But they'd survived together, and that was what mattered most.
Three weeks later, the Brotherhood was back to full strength.
They were in rehearsal, preparing for their next tour, when Nathan sneezed.
Everyone froze.
Ricky dropped his guitar pick. Connor's eyes went wide with terror. Erik actually backed away. Jace's hand went to his temple preemptively.
"It's just dust!" Nathan said quickly, holding up his hands. "Just dust from the stage! I'm not sick! Look... no fever!" He held his hand to his own forehead. "Completely healthy!"
They all stared at him suspiciously.
"I'm fine," Nathan insisted. "It was one sneeze. One tiny, insignificant sneeze."
"That's how it started last time," Ricky said darkly. "One tiny, insignificant sneeze."
"I'M NOT SICK!" Nathan shouted. Then, more calmly, "I'm not sick. I promise. Can we please continue rehearsal?"
Slowly, cautiously, they returned to their instruments.
But for the rest of rehearsal, everyone kept glancing at Nathan. Watching. Waiting.
Because they remembered.
They remembered the pain, the misery, the absolute horror of being powerful beings brought low by a virus.
They remembered Ricky trying to escape through walls. Connor's apocalyptic toast visions. Jace's empathic overload. Erik's crushed glassware and emotional breakdowns. Nathan's accidental thunderstorms.
And every single one of them was absolutely, positively, definitely never going through it again.
Even if they claimed it never happened.
Recovery was slow, dignity slower. The rehearsal-sneeze incident joined the list of things that had definitely never happened. No vote required. For the first week after the flu released its grip, the Brotherhood moved through the castle like men who'd survived a natural disaster, which, in a way, they had. Erik went back to training but limited himself to half-sessions. Nathan returned to his workshop but Galena confiscated his key after midnight. Connor's visions stabilized, though he refused to eat toast for three straight weeks.
Ricky, predictably, was the first to bounce back to full energy. And the moment he did, he had an idea.
"Zoo day," he announced at breakfast, sliding into his chair with the manic brightness of a man who'd been confined to bed for ten days and was making up for lost time. "Everyone. Today. No arguments."
"Ricky, we just recovered from..." Nathan started.
"Fresh air! Animals! Sunshine under the lavender sky!" Ricky spread his hands like a showman. "Dr. Voss says Shimmer's been asking about me."
"Panthers don't ask about people," Erik said.
"This one does. Come on. All of you. It'll be good for morale."
Jace looked around the table at his brothers, still a little pale, still a little thin, but alive and together and bickering over breakfast like they always had. He caught Samantha's eye across the room where she sat with Indira and Rebekah, who'd come to check on Erik and stayed for the morning.
"Zoo day," Jace said. And that was that.
The Aelin National Zoo sprawled across two hundred acres in the heart of Ainmhithe County, Ricky Strathan's domain. On this Saturday morning, the gates hadn't even officially opened yet, but the Sentinel was already inside, having teleported directly to the staff entrance with his usual disregard for conventional entry methods.
"Ricky's already here, isn't he?" Connor asked as the rest of the Brotherhood approached the main gates, where Dr. Helena Voss, the zoo's director, waited to greet them.
Dr. Voss smiled warmly, her silver hair pulled back in a neat bun. "He arrived twenty minutes ago and is currently having a conversation with the Banded Silver Foxes. I believe he's explaining to them why they can't come home with him."
"Is he winning that argument?" Jace asked, his amber-gold eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Not remotely," Dr. Voss laughed. "But he visits so regularly that I think the animals consider him part of their enrichment program. Come, I'll give you the full tour. We have some new arrivals I think you'll enjoy."
The Brotherhood had dressed casually for the outing: jeans, t-shirts, the kind of unguarded ease that came from a day with no obligations. Erik's long golden hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, Connor's dark ringlets loose around his face for once, and Nathan had left his notebooks behind, for once, though he looked vaguely uncomfortable without them.
"This was a good idea," Jace said, stretching his tall frame as they walked through the gates. "We needed a day that wasn't council meetings or tour planning."
"Plus," Erik added with a grin, "watching Ricky try to explain why he can't adopt every animal in the zoo is always entertaining."
They found Ricky exactly where Dr. Voss had said: crouched near the viewing window of the Banded Silver Fox habitat, his light auburn curls falling forward as he watched three magnificent foxes play in their enclosure.
The Banded Silver Foxes were unique to Aelin, about the size of small dogs with stunning silver-grey coats marked by distinctive white bands around their legs that looked almost like stockings. Their eyes were a striking amber color, and they moved with the graceful curiosity that characterized all foxes.
"Come on, guys," Ricky was saying softly through the glass. "I've got a huge yard. You'd love it. There's plenty of space to run, and I could build you the best den you've ever seen."
The largest fox, a male with especially bold white bands, approached the glass and tilted his head as if actually considering the offer.
"See? He's interested!" Ricky turned to Dr. Voss with hopeful eyes.
"He's interested in the treats in your pocket," she said dryly. "Which you know you're not supposed to bring."
Ricky looked wounded. "These are approved treats. I checked with the nutritionist!"
"Last week," Connor interjected, settling down beside Ricky to watch the foxes, "and she said you could give them treats under supervision. Not teleport in before the zoo opens and have unsupervised treat parties."
"It wasn't a party," Ricky protested. "It was a diplomatic negotiation. I'm trying to convince them to let me shift into a Banded Silver Fox, and they're being particular about the authenticity of my transformation."
Erik knelt down beside them, his massive frame unexpectedly gentle as he watched the foxes. "Have you successfully shifted into one yet?"
"Twice," Ricky said proudly. "But the female, the one by the rocks there, told me my tail posture was all wrong. Very judgmental for a fox."
"She told you?" Nathan asked skeptically.
"Body language," Ricky explained. "When you can shift into animals, you learn to read them better. And trust me, that look she gave me was definitely 'your tail posture is embarrassing.'"
Jace settled cross-legged on the ground, his empathy naturally reaching out to sense the foxes' emotions. "They're curious about us. Especially Erik. They think he's very large."
"Everything thinks I'm very large," Erik said mildly. "It's the Viking genetics."
Dr. Voss watched them with quiet pleasure. "Would you like to see them up close? We have a special viewing area where you can observe them without glass. It's normally reserved for researchers and educational programs, but I think we can make an exception for the Sentinel and his brothers."
Ricky was on his feet instantly. "Really? Can I... I mean, we... can we?"
"Try not to adopt them while we're in there," Connor said, standing and brushing off his jeans.
"I make no promises."
After spending a thoroughly enjoyable hour with the Banded Silver Foxes, during which Ricky had to be gently reminded three times not to shift into fox form and join them, Dr. Voss led them to the Nocturnal House.
"Now this," she said as they entered the dimly lit building, "is something truly special. We're one of only two facilities in the world with Humming Spiders, and ours is the only successful breeding population."
Jace, who had been walking comfortably beside her, stopped dead in his tracks. His face went pale. "Spiders?"
"Oh no," Connor muttered.
Dr. Voss turned, concerned. "Your Majesty? Is something wrong?"
"Jace is... not a fan of spiders," Nathan said diplomatically. "By which I mean he's absolutely terrified of them."
"I'm not terrified," Jace said, though his voice was slightly higher than usual. "I just have a healthy respect for creatures with eight legs and the ability to appear out of nowhere."
"You can fight dragons," Erik pointed out. "You literally are a dragon when you need to be."
"Dragons don't have eight legs and creepy little eyes," Jace countered.
Ricky stepped up beside him, the mischief gone from his face for once. "Jace, these are Humming Spiders. They're beautiful. I promise I won't shift into one..."
"You were going to shift into a spider?" Jace's eyes went wide with horror.
"Was going to," Ricky emphasized. "But I won't. Because you're my brother and I love you and I would never traumatize you like that. Even though it would be really cool."
Dr. Voss's voice softened. "Your Majesty, perhaps you'd like to wait in the observation lounge? It has a lovely view of the nocturnal gardens."
Jace's jaw set with determination. He was the King of Aelin, the Guardian of the Brotherhood. He had faced down Aldus the Conqueror, survived the elixir incident, and led his people through countless trials. He could handle some spiders.
"No," he said firmly. "I can do this. They're behind glass, right?"
"Very thick glass," Dr. Voss assured him.
"And they can't get out?"
"Absolutely not."
"And no one," he added, fixing Ricky with a stare, "will shift into one?"
"I solemnly swear," Ricky said, placing his hand over his heart. "No spider shifting today."
Jace took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do this."
They entered the dimmed chamber, and even Jace had to admit, from a safe distance behind his brothers, the Humming Spiders were remarkable.
The spiders were about the size of a silver dollar, with bodies that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. As they moved across their webs, they produced a soft, melodic humming sound, like a tiny chorus of wind chimes. In the darkness, their bodies glowed with bioluminescence in shades of blue, green, and violet.
"They're singing," Connor said in wonder, his emerald eyes wide. "Or humming. That's where the name comes from?"
"Exactly," Dr. Voss said. "The males produce the humming through specialized organs on their abdomens. It's how they attract mates and communicate. Each spider has a unique frequency, almost like a voice."
Nathan leaned closer to the glass, fascinated. "The bioluminescence is incredible. What causes it?"
"We're still studying it," Dr. Voss admitted. "It's a chemical reaction similar to fireflies, but unique to this species. At night, their webs look like constellations."
From his position at the back of the group, Jace cautiously peered around Erik's massive frame. The spiders were... actually kind of beautiful. Their glow was mesmerizing, and the humming was oddly soothing. He could feel their contentment through his empathy: they were well-fed, safe, completely at peace in their habitat.
"See?" Ricky said softly, noticing Jace's cautious interest. "Not scary. Just different."
"They're still spiders," Jace muttered. But he took a small step closer to the glass.
Erik glanced back at his brother, a gentle smile on his face. "You're doing great, Jace."
"Don't patronize me," Jace said, but there was no heat in it. He was actually standing on his own now, watching as one of the spiders spun a web that caught the light like fine wire. "Okay. I admit it. They're... not terrible."
"High praise from the Guardian," Connor said with a grin.
"I'm still never touching one," Jace added quickly. "But I can appreciate them from here. Behind very thick glass. With my brothers between me and them."
"That's what we're here for," Erik said warmly, and the Brotherhood shared a quiet moment of understanding. Even the mighty Guardian had his fears, and there was no shame in that. Not among brothers.
Grateful to be out of the Nocturnal House, though he'd never admit how much the Humming Spiders had actually impressed him, Jace relaxed considerably as they approached the elephant sanctuary.
The Aelin National Zoo was home to seven elephants, all rescued from various situations around the world. The sanctuary sprawled across fifteen acres, with pools, mud wallows, and enrichment structures that allowed the elephants to engage in natural behaviors.
"This is Zara," Dr. Voss said as they approached the fence where a magnificent African elephant stood, her trunk reaching over the barrier in greeting. "She came to us five years ago from a facility that was shutting down. She's our matriarch, fifty-two years old and absolutely rules the herd."
Jace stepped forward immediately, his empathy sensing the elephant's gentle curiosity and deep intelligence. "She's beautiful."
"You can touch her if you'd like," Dr. Voss offered. "She loves attention."
Without hesitation, so different from his reaction to the spiders, Jace reached out and placed his hand on Zara's trunk. The elephant rumbled softly, a sound of contentment, and Jace's face lit up with genuine joy.
"She's happy," he said. "She remembers being scared when she first arrived, but now she feels... safe. Protected. She knows this is home."
Connor joined him at the fence, his own hand reaching out. "Can she remember things from years ago?"
"Elephants never forget," Dr. Voss said with a smile. "It's not just a saying. They have remarkable memories. Zara remembers every elephant she's ever met, every keeper who's ever cared for her."
"That must be both wonderful and terrible," Nathan observed quietly. "Remembering everything. The good and the bad."
"Which is why we work so hard to make sure their time here is filled with good memories," Dr. Voss said. "We have enrichment programs, social activities, and their emotional wellbeing is never an afterthought."
Erik, who had been standing back to avoid overwhelming the elephant with his size, watched with gentle eyes. "Are they all rescues?"
"All of them," Dr. Voss confirmed. "Zara, as I mentioned, came from a closing facility. Bobo over there," she said, pointing to a younger male elephant wallowing in the mud, "was orphaned when poachers killed his mother. We got him when he was just two years old. He's twelve now and thriving."
Ricky had climbed up on the fence railing, balancing easily as he watched the elephants. "Have you thought about letting me shift into an elephant? I could go in there and socialize with them from the inside."
"I have thought about it," Dr. Voss said, "and the answer is absolutely not."
"Why not? I'd be a great elephant!"
"Because elephants have complex social hierarchies and you'd disrupt the entire herd dynamic. Also, you weigh about 180 pounds normally. An adult African elephant weighs about 12,000 pounds. The physics of your transformation would be... concerning."
"Magic," Ricky said dismissively. "It's all magic. The physics work out."
"Still no," Dr. Voss said firmly, but she was smiling. "You can visit them like this. Which you do. Frequently."
Jace was still communing with Zara, his hand on her trunk, his empathy fully engaged. The elephant had wrapped her trunk gently around his wrist, and they stood like that in comfortable silence.
"She likes you," Dr. Voss observed. "She's very particular about who she lets touch her."
"The feeling is mutual," Jace said softly. "She's... extraordinary. Her mind is so complex. She's thinking about the other elephants, wondering if it's time for their afternoon enrichment, remembering the keeper who gave her apples yesterday. It's beautiful."
Connor watched his brother with the elephant and smiled. This was Jace at his best: when his empathy wasn't overwhelming him, when he could connect with another being and truly understand them. The Guardian could be fearsome in battle. But this... this was what made him what he was.
"We fund this sanctuary, don't we?" Erik asked Dr. Voss quietly. "The county provides support?"
"Ainmhithe County provides significant funding," she confirmed. "As does the royal treasury. Between Ricky's advocacy and the Crown's support, we're one of the best-funded zoos in the world. Which is why we can afford such extensive habitats and enrichment programs."
"Good," Erik said simply. "These animals deserve the best."
They spent another twenty minutes with the elephants before Dr. Voss reminded them that they had more exhibits to see. Jace reluctantly pulled away from Zara, who rumbled softly in what felt like a goodbye.
"I'll come back," Jace promised her, and through his empathy, he felt her understanding and contentment.
The Safari Café sat on a hill overlooking the Savanna Exhibit, where zebras, giraffes, and various antelope species grazed in a sprawling habitat designed to mimic the African plains. The Brotherhood claimed an outdoor table, their security detail discreetly positioned nearby.
"Four hours," Connor said, checking his watch. "It feels like twenty minutes."
"That's because Ricky spent an hour with the foxes before we even arrived," Nathan said, though there was no criticism in his tone. "Not that I'm complaining. It's been a good day."
"Dr. Voss says she's been off her food a little this week," Ricky said. "I just want to check on her."
"We know," Erik said. "You've mentioned checking on Shimmer approximately six times since breakfast."
"Because she's important. Opaline Panthers are endangered even here in Aelin. Every one of them matters."
"We're proud of you," Jace said quietly. "The work you do here, the advocacy, the funding you've pushed through the county council. You've made a real difference for these animals."
Ricky looked momentarily flustered, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I just... they can't speak for themselves, you know? Someone has to. And I can understand them better than most people. It seems wrong not to use that."
"That's what makes you a good Sentinel," Connor said. "You protect those who can't protect themselves. Whether that's Aelin from enemies or endangered animals from extinction."
A giraffe had wandered close to the fence near their table, its long neck stretching over the barrier as it munched on leaves from a nearby tree. The Brotherhood watched in companionable silence, enjoying the peaceful moment.
"Can we talk about how Jace actually looked at spiders today?" Erik said, grinning. "Without running away?"
Jace threw a french fry at him. "I was brave. Acknowledge my bravery."
"You were very brave," Nathan said solemnly. "We're all very proud of you for looking at the pretty glowing spiders from behind three of your brothers."
"They were behind thick glass," Jace defended. "Very thick glass. And they were... objectively beautiful. I can admit that now. From this safe distance. In broad daylight. With no spiders anywhere nearby."
Connor leaned over and patted his shoulder. "Baby steps, Jace. Baby steps. Next year, maybe you'll look at them without standing behind Erik."
"Don't push it," Jace muttered, but he was smiling.
"What's next on the tour?" Erik asked Dr. Voss, who had joined them for lunch.
"I thought you might enjoy the Aelinian Aquatic Center," she said. "We have some unique freshwater species from the mountain streams, including the Rainbow Trout that are only found in Aelin's northern territories."
"And after that?" Ricky asked hopefully.
Dr. Voss smiled knowingly. "After that, I thought we could circle back to check on the Banded Silver Foxes one more time before you leave."
Ricky's face lit up. "You're my favorite person."
"I'm your second favorite," she corrected. "The foxes are your favorite. I've accepted this."
As the afternoon stretched into early evening and the zoo began to close to the general public, Dr. Voss led the Brotherhood to a private viewing platform behind the Opaline Panther habitat. From here, they could observe Aurora and Shimmer in their evening activities without the glass barrier between them.
"This is normally restricted to keepers and veterinary staff," she explained as they climbed the wooden stairs to the platform. "But I think we can make an exception today."
The platform was about twenty feet from the panthers' favorite evening perch, close enough to observe them clearly, but far enough to respect their space. The setting sun cast golden light across the habitat, making Shimmer's opaline coat seem to glow from within.
Ricky sat down on the platform's edge immediately, his legs dangling over the side, his entire focus on the two panthers. Aurora had groomed Shimmer earlier, and now they lay close together, their bodies touching in the casual intimacy of bonded mates.
"There's something different about Shimmer," Jace said softly, settling beside Ricky. His empathy reached toward the panthers without thinking. "Do you feel it?"
Ricky was already still. "Something settled in her," he said quietly. "Like a door closing gently. She knows something I don't yet."
Jace's empathy found it too: a deep, quiet certainty in Shimmer; a watchful protectiveness in Aurora sharpened by something he couldn't name. "Yeah," he said. "I feel it."
"She's been off her food," Dr. Voss said quietly, watching them. "We noticed it three days ago. I've been wondering."
"She's pregnant," Ricky said. It wasn't a question.
Dr. Voss turned to look at him. "You're sure?"
"As sure as I can be without your equipment. But yes." He didn't take his eyes off Shimmer. "Schedule the ultrasound."
Dr. Voss was quiet. Then she said, "Tomorrow morning. And I'll make sure you're there."
Ricky nodded. "They were paired carefully," she continued, steadying herself. "Aurora is from the northern mountain territories; Shimmer came from the southern crystal caves. If she's carrying... the genetic diversity alone would be remarkable."
Nathan had pulled out a small notebook, apparently he couldn't resist bringing at least one, and was sketching the panthers. "The opaline quality of their coats is fascinating. It's not just white fur; it's something in the structure of the hair shaft itself that creates that iridescence."
"Like your armor," Connor said to Jace. "When you're in full Guardian regalia, the way it shifts colors in different light. It's similar."
Jace looked at Shimmer with new appreciation. "I never thought about it that way. But you're right. It's the same kind of effect."
"Makes you wonder," Erik mused, "if there's a connection. Between the Guardian line and these cats. Both unique to Aelin, both with that same opaline quality."
"Ancient magic often finds echoes in nature," Nathan said, still sketching. "It's entirely possible that the same magical currents that created the Guardian bloodline also influenced the evolution of species like the Opaline Panthers."
Ricky had gone very still, watching the panthers with an intensity that caught Jace's attention. "Ricky?"
"When I shift into a cat," Ricky said quietly, "I can feel it. The connection. It's more than just taking their form. It's understanding them. Their instincts, their drives, their way of seeing the world. And with these two..." He gestured to Aurora and Shimmer. "With them, it's even stronger. Like there's something in me that recognizes something in them."
"You're part cat," Jace said with a chuckle. "And because of the amulet you hear their hearts. Your power is tied to this land, to its creatures. Of course, you'd feel a connection."
They sat in comfortable silence as the sun continued its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Below them, Aurora rose and stretched, every muscle rippling under his opaline coat. He padded over to Shimmer and nuzzled her gently before settling back down beside her.
"They'll be good parents," Connor said, his visions showing him flashes of the future: tiny opaline cubs tumbling over each other, learning to hunt under Aurora's patient guidance, nursing while Shimmer kept watch.
"They will," Ricky agreed. "And we'll make sure they have everything they need. The best care, the safest environment, everything."
"That's what we do," Erik said simply. "Protect those who need protecting. Whether that's Aelin's people or Aelin's creatures."
Dr. Voss had been watching the Brotherhood with quiet interest. These five men, powerful beyond measure, rulers and warriors and protectors, sitting on a wooden platform in the fading light, completely absorbed in watching two big cats prepare for parenthood. It reminded her, not for the first time, why she had given her life to this work.
As they finally prepared to leave, after Ricky had made one final visit to the Banded Silver Foxes and extracted a promise from Dr. Voss to call him the moment Shimmer went into labor, the Brotherhood gathered near the main gates.
"Thank you," Jace said to Dr. Voss, shaking her hand warmly. "This was exactly what we needed. A day away from politics and strategy, just... enjoying something beautiful."
"You're welcome here anytime," she said sincerely. "All of you. Though I suspect Ricky will continue his regular visits regardless."
"Absolutely," Ricky confirmed. "Especially now. I need to check on Shimmer. Make sure she's comfortable. Make sure Aurora isn't being overprotective. Make sure the veterinary team has everything they need..."
"We know," Connor said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "We know. You're going to be the most involved godfather in history."
"Damn right I am," Ricky said proudly.
As they walked toward the gates, Nathan fell into step beside Dr. Voss. "I've been thinking about the breeding program. If you need any assistance, funding for equipment, consultation on habitat design, anything, please let us know. What you're doing here is important."
"I appreciate that," she said. "And I may take you up on it. We're always looking for ways to improve."
Erik paused at the gates, looking back over the sprawling zoo grounds. "You've built something special here, Dr. Voss. A place where animals can be safe, can thrive. That matters."
"It's a team effort," she said modestly. "My staff, the volunteers, the funding from Ainmhithe County and the Crown, and yes," she smiled at Ricky, "our favorite shapeshifter who visits more often than some of our employees."
"I'm here to help," Ricky said seriously. "Always."
They said their final goodbyes, and Ricky, unable to resist, opened a portal that would take them directly back to the castle. As they stepped through one by one, Jace glanced back at the zoo one more time.
He could still feel all of them: Zara's deep intelligence, the foxes' bright curiosity, the spiders' quiet contentment in the dark. And Shimmer, steady and still at the center of it, carrying something new.
All of them safe. All of them protected. Thriving in Ricky's county, under the care of people who understood that the creatures in their keeping deserved the best.
"Coming?" Connor called from the other side of the portal.
"Yeah," Jace said, stepping through. "I'm coming."
The portal closed behind them, but the memory of the day remained: a reminder that even in the midst of their duties as warriors and rulers, there was still room for wonder, for connection, for the simple joy of watching a pregnant panther rest beside her mate as the sun set over Aelin.
And three months later, when Shimmer gave birth to two healthy opaline cubs, a male and a female, both perfect, Ricky teleported to the zoo so fast he forgot to put on shoes.
But that's a story for another day.
In the days and weeks that followed, life on Aelin settled into something Samantha had never expected to find: a home that wasn't the one she'd grown up in, but one that fit her just as well.
Her friendship with Indira deepened quickly. They fell into a routine: morning walks through the gardens of Harmonytis, afternoon trips to Neart for Rebekah's bread, long conversations in the castle corridors about everything and nothing. Indira had a way of asking questions that cut straight to the heart of things without ever feeling invasive, and Samantha found herself talking about her father's death, her sister's wedding, her decision to drop out of college to follow the music, things she'd never told anyone on the tour.
"You gave up a degree to tune drums," Indira said one afternoon, not with judgment but with genuine curiosity.
"I gave up a degree to do something I loved," Samantha corrected. "My mother still hasn't forgiven me."
"Mothers forgive everything eventually. It's in the job description." Indira plucked a soft-lantern vine from the trellis above them and tucked it behind Samantha's ear, the bioluminescent bloom casting a faint blue glow against her red hair. "There. Now you look like you belong here."
Samantha touched the vine. "Do I? Belong here?"
"You're asking the wrong question," Indira said. "The question isn't whether you belong. It's whether you're willing to stay."
Galena ran the island's government with a precision that would have impressed a Swiss watchmaker, and her schedule left little room for casual friendship. She made room anyway: a cup of tea here, a brief conversation there, always direct, always sharp, always exactly as warm as she intended to be and no warmer.
"You're good for him," Galena told Samantha one evening in the castle library. She said it the way she said everything: a statement of fact, delivered in that crisp Russian-accented English, each word placed with deliberate precision. "Jace. You're good for him. He doesn't know it yet, but that's because he's an idiot about his own feelings. All of them are."
"Galena..."
"Nathan didn't realize I loved him until I literally told him. In those exact words. While he was in the middle of an experiment." She took a sip of tea. "He said, 'That's very kind, Galena,' and went back to his beakers. I had to tell him three more times before it registered."
Samantha laughed. "Jace isn't... we're not..."
"I know what you're not. I also know what you're becoming." Galena set down her cup. "Just be patient. The men of this Brotherhood feel everything deeply, but they process it like they're translating from a language they don't quite speak. Give him time."
It was Rebekah who told her about Yara.
They were in the bakery in Neart, Samantha's third visit, which Rebekah had declared made her "a regular, which means you get the good honey", when the subject came up. Not from gossip or malice. Just from the natural flow of women who'd decided to trust each other.
"You should know," Rebekah said, kneading dough with the focused rhythm of someone who'd done it ten thousand times, "that Jace and Yara had a moment. During the elixir incident."
Samantha's hands stilled on the bread she'd been tearing. "A moment."
"Yes." Rebekah didn't look up from her kneading. "The elixir affected his empathy. Made him aggressive, out of control. Yara was his aide. She was the one in the room when it hit." She paused. "She made the choice to guide him through it rather than fight him. And from what I understand, she handled it with more grace than anyone could have expected."
The silence held between them. Samantha stared at the bread in her hands, something complicated churning in her chest. Not rage or betrayal. He wasn't hers, not yet, not in any way she could claim. But something. A tightness. A small, sharp thing.
"How do you know?" she asked quietly.
"Indira heard it from Galena, who heard it from Sidney, who was there for the aftermath." Rebekah finally looked up, her sharp brown eyes steady. "Women talk, Samantha. Especially women in our position. We have to. It's how we survive loving men who carry the weight of a world on their shoulders."
"And you're telling me because..."
"Because you deserve to know before it becomes a thing you discover by accident. And because Yara did nothing wrong. She was put in an impossible situation and she protected him: from himself, from his powers, from doing something he couldn't come back from." Rebekah's voice softened. "Don't hold it against her. And don't hold it against him."
Samantha was quiet for a long time. She thought about the night after the elixir incident, sitting on her bed in the dark, hearing nothing through the stone walls. She thought about Sidney's measured voice when he'd said Yara handled it. She thought about the way Jace and Yara hadn't looked at each other in the morning-after meeting.
And she thought about Jace. About the man who poured her coffee first. Who left the portal open. Who carried everyone's pain because he couldn't bear not to.
"I don't hold it against either of them," she said finally. "But I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting."
Rebekah reached across the counter and squeezed her flour-dusted hand. "Good. That means you care. And caring is the price of admission for loving one of these men." She smiled. "Now eat more bread. Bread fixes everything."
"Does it?"
"No. But it helps."
Jace found her in the gardens that evening.
She was sitting on a stone bench near Indira's soft-lantern vines, watching the lavender sky deepen toward twilight. He approached the way he always did: quietly, his long stride unhurried, as if he had nowhere else to be. He sat down beside her, leaving a careful distance between them.
They didn't speak at first. The vines glowed softly around them, casting blue-white light across the stone path.
"Rebekah told me," Samantha said.
Jace went very still. "Told you what?"
"About the elixir. About Yara."
The silence that followed was different from their usual comfortable quiet. It was heavy. Charged. She could see him processing, could see the walls going up, his face closing over like shutters drawn.
"Samantha..."
"You don't have to explain." She turned to look at him. "You weren't yourself. She wasn't a victim. I understand that. I'm not angry."
His amber-gold eyes searched hers, and she knew his empathy was reading her: feeling her honesty, her small hurt, her stubborn refusal to let this become something ugly. "You're not angry," he said slowly. "But you're not okay either."
"I'm figuring it out." She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "I don't have any claim on you, Jace. We're not... we haven't..." She stopped. "I just wish it had been different."
"So do I," he said quietly. "More than you know."
Another silence. The vines hummed faintly, their bioluminescence pulsing in slow, rhythmic waves.
"Yara is a good person," Samantha said. "I've seen how she is with you. She cares about you."
"She does. And what happened will never happen again. She knows that. I know that." He paused. "Does it change things? Between us?"
Samantha looked at him, really looked at him. The amber-gold eyes. The sharp jaw and the high cheekbones and the long dark hair that fell past his shoulders. The bronze skin that caught the vine-light like warm metal. This man who could feel everyone's pain and still couldn't find his own.
"No," she said. "It doesn't change things."
The relief that washed through him was visible: a slight loosening of his shoulders, a breath released. His hand moved toward hers on the bench, stopped, then moved again. His fingers covered hers. Not lacing together. Just resting there. Warm.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For being honest. For not pretending you're fine when you're not. For..." He looked at their hands. "For still being here."
She turned her hand under his, palm up, and squeezed once. "Where else would I be?"
They sat together in the garden while the lavender sky darkened to violet and the soft-lantern vines glowed brighter in the fading light. Two people who hadn't said the word yet but were circling closer to it with every quiet moment, every shared silence, every time he poured her coffee first or she sat on a floor at three in the morning just to be near someone who needed her.
Not yet. But soon.
The Brotherhood was healing. The island was at peace. And somewhere in Neart, Rebekah was pulling the last loaves from her ovens and closing up the bakery for the night, while in Léirstinach, Indira was tending her vines by moonlight, and in the Royal Castle, Galena was reviewing tomorrow's council agenda with the ruthless efficiency of a woman who ran a country and still made time for tea with the people she loved.
The women of Aelin, holding everything together. Some of them had always been here. Some of them were learning. All of them were staying.