He’d not heard Cael approach, nor did he have the strength to resist when his brother lowered his fist and pulled aside his shirt. Thaddeus opened his eyes and stared at the gauzy black webs around the fading scars from where the arrows had pierced him. Smoky filaments danced over his skin, spreading like tendrils before retracting. With each pulse of pain, those filaments stretched further.
His brow creased. ’Twas not from iron cores or iron poisoning. He’d witnessed the effects of iron poisoning before, ’twas naught like this.
Cael spread his hand and held it hairsbreadths from his scars. A subtle, resonant power prickled over his skin. The filaments recoiled as if in fear of Cael’s magic. The ache began to subside. Cael’s expression shifted, a wrinkle between his brows, tightness at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flared with inner fire, glowing bright. His fingers waivered, magic flowing seamlessly from his fingertips into Thaddeus’s skin.
After a few moments, Cael retracted the magic, curled his fingers away, and lowered his hand, smoothing the shirt back in place. Thaddeus fastened a few of the buttons as his brother perched on the edge of the small serving table.
“What exactly happened, Thaddeus? I’ve heard the rumors, that Thierry shot you twice and you disappeared offthe battlefield without a trace. Most believed you dead, though your body was never found.”
Thaddeus snickered. “’Tis not obvious I’m alive?”
Cael flicked a finger toward his chest. “Who healed you?”
Pausing in his task, Thaddeus lifted his gaze and was met by scrutiny. Mayhap a bit of worry. He lowered his hands from the unfastened button. “I’m aware of the trickery in the healing methods, Cael. I sensed it from the beginning.”
Aye, he’d known prior to leaving that dismal hideaway that Cecir restrained the full potential of his power. They feared him and his abilities. Gave him enough to placate him into believing he was still healing. Alas, he’d not understood how his power had been shackled until now. Full magical strength turned back on him, weakening him beneath the guise of residual iron poisoning.
“The Fae may be truth-telling, but that does not mean the Fae are without deception. We are masters of the skill.” He chuckled, lacking emotion. “’Twould have been foolish of me to believe I’ve been completely healed and restored. They hold little defense against my abilities. Surely, they’d temper my power.”
“They saved you to turn you into their puppet. They’re pulling the strings.”
Thaddeus’s grin turned cold. “I amno one’spuppet, Cael.”
“You’ve been a puppet all along, Thad. The puppet of a madwoman, and now a puppet to a rebel movement. When was the last time you did something of your own will?” Cael’s brows rose and he pointed once more toward Thaddeus’s chest, continuing before Thaddeus could open his mouth to rebut. “Seems to me your healer knew what he was doing. Looping the use of extreme power back on you. Muting your abilities to what? Protect themselves? You’vecreated a name for yourself over the centuries. One of callousness and cold-heartedness. A Fae not to be reckoned with if one valued their life. Yes, we were born with immense gifts and great power, Thaddeus. You and I both. However, you’ve allowed yourself to be misguided, your power manipulated. Where it was born of virtue and goodness, healing and warmth, it’s been warped and corrupted with the wayward intentions of evil.”
Lowering his elbows to his knees and leaning toward Thaddeus, he added, “Is this how you envisioned your life? The pawn in a game where, once no longer of use to the masters, you’ll be discarded? Or, worse, used as the scapegoat should their plans go awry?”
“Do not believe you understand the Council and their motives. Nor do you understand their strategies.”
Cael stared at him for a few heartbeats, then broke out in laughter. The corners of Thaddeus’s mouth pulled down, his brows furrowing, as he witnessed madness claim his brother. Cael shook his head and sat up straight, raking a hand through his hair.
“I don’t understand? You came barging into my home wielding your precious blade at my throat, threating to take my head in the name of a pureblood movement. I believe I understand quite clearly what this new movement is all about, the genocide of its own people who do not align with their beliefs, and how many different ways they will fail and reap the dire consequences of their actions. Dagda will cull them all until each and every last traitor suffers punishment for their crimes. If you don’t think he’s aware of a potential coup, you’re an idiot. As far as strategies go, deceiving their own pawn is a dangerous path to take, especially should you regain full power. And especially if they wish for you to be the sword that forges a pathway to their vision.”
Cael braced his hands on his knees, the humor shutting off like a switch. “You’re a tool. A puppet. A weapon to be used until you become obsolete. This new movement knew exactly what they were doing by saving your life. All in the name of the deceased crazy princess whom they hide their true agenda behind, right?”
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. Cael’s derogatory implication of Daeanna. Why did it not stoke the fury it had before? Why had the sullying of her name and legacy not invoked anger in his soul?
Why, as hard as he tried, could he not bring a vision of her to his mind that wasn’t hazy and fading?
“You may believe me a fool and blind, brother, but rest assured—I’m completely aware of their deceptions, their plans, and their motives. As I said, I am no puppet.” He tapped his chest. “I will find a way to cut the restraints placed upon my magic, but regardless, I remain far stronger in power than they will ever be. If this mere stitch gives them false security, let them savor the feeling of safety while they can. It may very well become their fatal flaw.”
Thaddeus pushed off the sofa and crossed the room to the open doors to the balcony. Despite the humidity in the air, the fresh scent of ocean and sand relaxed him. ’Twas a newfound comfort, these scents and sounds, that created a calming symphony for his turmoiled soul.
“Oh!” Cael’s footsteps rushed toward him, followed by a boyish laugh. Thaddeus cast him a short glance as he leaned his elbows on the railing. Cael grabbed his arm and tugged, reminding him of the times when they were mere boys playing in the gardens and his brother found something extraordinary and wanted Thaddeus to see. The memory brought a pained curl to the corner of his mouth that he hid from Cael. “I caught you. You called me ‘brother.’”
“Regardless of differences in our beliefs, are you not my brother?”
“Oooh.” Cael nudged him in the arm with his shoulder. “Someone’s becoming sentimental. How sweet.”
“Don’t get excited.”
Cael chuckled. “Why not? I’ve got a lot to be excited about from the last twenty minutes alone. You lost your shit because someone hurt youranam cara. You healed her. You humbled yourself enough to allow me to help you when your magic malfunctioned. You spoke to me with civility instead of insult.Andyou called me”—Cael leaned into him—“brother.”
Thaddeus groaned, shrugging at Cael’s hands circling his arm. Cael sidled closer, his eyes displaying childlike giddiness that struck a damaging blow to the ice around his heart. Goddess, he couldn’t allow for complications in this lethal game. Emotions were obstacles he could not afford while unweaving Grison’s plans and learning the truth of how deep the exiled High Fae’s deceptions truly went.
“Careful, Cael.” Thaddeus inhaled the briny air slowly, filling his lungs with the cleansing scent. No amount of cleansing could erase his past and rewrite his future. His path was set, his destiny determined. There was naught powerful enough to change it. “’Twould be wise for you not to ponder upon smokescreen hopes and dreams.”
Cael reached across him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and angled him to face his brother. That giddiness remained, but a challenging smile crossed his mouth. “Tell me, Thad, without playing with your words on your gilded tongue, that my excitement is based on smokescreen hopes. Tell me directly that you’re not beginning to feel even a remote sense of kinship. Tell me truthfully, without omission or deflection, that you’re not developing feelings for Rori.”
