feasting, Cian thought, and wondered if it was Hoytâs talk of fire that put him in mind of Nero and his fiddle.
Hoyt stepped into a chamber, then immediately threw out an arm to block Cian from entering. âThe sun,â was all he said, then moved quickly to pull the coverings over the windows.
The room plunged into gloom. Without thinking, Hoyt gestured toward a brace of candles. They flared into light.
âHandy bit of business that,â Cian commented. âIâm out of practice lighting tinderboxes.â
âItâs a basic skill, and one youâd have yourself if youâd ever put your mind and time into honing your power.â
âToo tedious. Is that whiskey?â Cian moved straight to a decanter, and poured. âOh, such sobriety and disapproval.â He read his brotherâs expression clearly as he took the first warm sip. âIâll remind you that itâs the end of my dayâwell past it, come to that.â
He glanced around, began to wander. âSmells female. Women like Glenna always leave something of themselves behind to remind a man.â Then he dropped down into a chair, slouching, stretching out his legs. âNow, what is it youâre bound and determined to bore me with?â
âThere was a time you enjoyed, even sought my company.â
Cianâs shoulders moved in something too lazy to be called a shrug. âI suppose that means nine hundred years of absence doesnât make the heart grow fonder.â
Regret showed on Hoytâs face before he turned away to add turf to the fire. âAre you and I to be at odds again?â
âYou tell me.â
âI wanted to speak with you alone about what you did with the prisoner.â
âMore humanity heard from. Yes, yes, I should have patted his head so he could stand trial, or before the tribunal, whatever goes for the name of justice in this place. I shouldâve invoked the sodding Geneva Convention. Well, bollocks.â
âI donât know this convention, but there could be no trial, no tribunal on such a matter at such a time. Thatâs what Iâm saying, you great irritating idiot. You executed an assassin, as I would have doneâbut with more tact and, well, stealth.â
âAh, so youâd have slithered down to whatever cage they put him in and put a knife between his ribs.â Cian raised his eyebrows. âThatâs all right then.â
âItâs not. None of itâs all right. Itâs a bloody nightmare is what it is, and weâre all having it. Iâm saying you did the necessary. And that for his trying to kill Moira, whom I love as I did my own sisters, and for putting an arrow in you, Iâd have done for him. Iâve never killed a man, for these things weâve ended these past weeks havenât been men, but demon. But Iâd have killed this one if you hadnât been there ahead of me.â
Hoyt paused, caught his breath if not his composure. âI wanted to say as much to you so youâd know my feelings on it. But it seems I waste both our time as you couldnât give a damn in hell what my feelings are.â
Cian didnât move. His only change was to shift his gaze from his brotherâs furious face down to the whiskey in his hand. âI do, as it happens, give several damns in hell what your feelings are. I wish I didnât. Youâve stirred things in me Iâd calmed too long ago to remember. Youâve slapped family in my face, Hoyt, when Iâd buried it.â
Crossing over, Hoyt took the chair that faced his brotherâs. âYouâre mine.â
Now when Cian lifted his eyes to his brotherâs they were empty. âIâm no oneâs.â
âMaybe you werenât, from the time you died until the time I found you. But itâs no longer true. So if you give those damns, Iâm saying to you Iâm proud of what youâre doing.
Isaac Crowe
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