by Juniper Hart
“That’s a bold statement,” he said lightly. “Can you elaborate on what you mean?”
“I think you know exactly what he means!” Owen barked, and Keppler cast Reef a look of puzzlement. His closest brother shifted his eyes away, and Keppler knew that he was in true danger. If Reef wasn’t on his side this time, then he really messed up.
“Still, I’d rather you went into detail if you’re going to throw something like that out at me.”
Wilder hissed, sucking in air as if Keppler was being unnecessarily difficult. “How long have you been consorting with the enemy?”
Shit, Keppler cursed, how did they know? His first thought was that one of the Castillo brothers had somehow ratted him and Bryn out, but the idea was ridiculous. Why would they put their own sister in peril, especially when they claimed to loathe the Parkers? Moreover, they were far too weak to be scheming. No, someone else opened their mouth. The pixie or Lycan from the other night, perhaps?
Again, he shot Reef a look, wondering if his brother had mentioned to Wilder their conversation about the woman who had still been a stranger back then, before Keppler had confirmed it was Bryn.
“Consorting with the enemy?” he repeated, a smirk falling on his face. “You are so medieval sometimes, Wilder. What are you going on about?”
“You know what we’re talking about!” Wilder howled, slamming his fists down. In his anger, he was beginning to shift. “Bryn Castillo!”
“Calm down!” Keppler snapped, his bemusement fading to anger as his back arched defensively. He felt the prod of his tail against the seat of his pants, but he willed himself not to lose control. Four against one would be no fight at all.
“Both of you calm down!” Reef growled, rising as if to play referee between them. “We called him here to hear what he has to say. You can’t go all primal on him before hearing him out.”
“He’d denying it!” Wilder yelled. “There’s no point in listening if he’s going to lie!”
“I’m not lying. I haven’t even said anything!” Keppler spat back. “I haven’t been consorting with Bryn. She is my mate.”
There was a sharp intake of breath around the table, and Reef moaned as if he’d been stabbed.
“Your mate?” Lennox cried. “Are you crazy?” Keppler’s eyes flashed, and he glowered. To his credit, Lennox winced slightly and turned his head away.
“You’re really one to talk,” Keppler retorted. “Yes, Bryn is my mate, and I make no apologies for pursuing her, especially when I have deterred her from coming after the palace.”
There was a slight pause in the room, and his brothers looked at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“How do you figure you did that?” Owen finally managed when no one else spoke.
“She has been convinced for ages that we are the ones who murdered her parents,” Keppler said. “I have shown her she’s wrong.”
Wilder’s jaw locked. “Why wouldn’t you just tell us about this?” he asked from between clenched teeth. “Why did you hide it from us?”
“You and your pitchfork?” Keppler replied. “You are hardly the most reasonable person when you set your mind on something. You were convinced that Bryn was coming back for you, remember?”
“And I was right!” Wilder howled. “Now look where we are!”
Keppler snorted. “Where we are? We’re nowhere! Bryn is focussing her attention on other possibilities. She isn’t thinking about the palace anymore. But I must tell you guys, if you had anything to do with her parents—”
“WE DIDN’T!” his brothers howled in unison.
“Then you have nothing to worry about. Are we done here?” Keppler rose from the table. He saw the dangerous look in the gazes surrounding him, though, and he reconsidered his position, claiming his seat once more.
“What if we had done it?” Owen asked softly, apparently echoing the thought on everyone’s mind. “Would you have told her which one of us was responsible?”
“It’s a moot point,” Keppler insisted.
“That wasn’t an answer,” Lennox said. “Would you have told her?”
Keppler paused, his pulse quickening as he stared around the room. Even though it was not in his nature to be untruthful, he did not know what his brothers would do if he told them what he really felt: that whoever had committed such an act should pay for the harm caused to the Castillos.
“Yes, I would have,” he answered.
“Oh, Keppler,” Reef muttered, apparently wishing he had just lied. Keppler refused to back down.
“You have nothing to fear from Bryn!” he continued. “You owe me some gratitude for that!”
“You have double-crossed us!” Wilder yelled, again pounding at the table with his usual flair for the dramatic. “How can we forgive that?”
“You say that there’s nothing to fear from Bryn,” Owen interjected. “What about her brothers? Surely they are not going to bow down to their sister’s opinion, especially not if it is guided by hormones.” Keppler bristled at the implication that what he shared with Bryn was sheer lust and nothing else.
“Her brothers are not an issue,” he said. “They…” He stopped himself from saying more. Explaining the diminished plights of the Castillo men felt like a betrayal to Bryn.
“They’re what?” Reef asked, more curiously than with suspicion.
“They’re not an issue,” Keppler finished. All eyes remained on him, and he waited for the outcome of his brothers’ collective thoughts.
“You are banished from the Hollows,” Wilder proclaimed.
Keppler snorted in response. “As much as you like to think you’re the supreme ruler, it is not your call to banish me from the Hollows.” Even if Wilder did manage to banish him, Keppler could think of worse punishments.
“We’ll take a vote!” Wilder insisted, which made Keppler roll his eyes.
“Don’t bother,” he snapped, rising again. “I’m fine with being out of this dismal hell for a few hundred years. But the next time someone plots to kill you, don’t come crying to me.” He didn’t mention that Bryn had no plans for murder. He didn’t want to lessen the importance of his role by a scintilla when they were left to stew about it later.
“Keppler…” Reef reached out to stop him from leaving, but Keppler waved him off.
“Don’t worry about me,” he told him with a smile. “I’ve made a good life for myself in the Sunside. It’s even better now that I’ve found my mate. Good luck to you.”
With that, he spun to leave his brothers, storming out of the room and into the palace. He might be banished, but he had promised to pay Castor a visit. He’d forgotten to call off the registry search he’d ordered.
As he sauntered through the corridors, he paused for a moment. Had it been Castor who had sold him out? The idea worried him, yet it didn’t surprise him. Castor’s loyalty was bound to the family, after all, not to Keppler as an individual. His family had served the princes for generations, going back since the beginning of the takeover.
Oh, Castor, Keppler thought with some disappointment. I’m the only one who doesn’t treat you like a slave. Why would you do it?
There was only one way to be certain. He had to ask the driver what he knew.
Castor was washing one of the dozens of vehicles exclusively for palace use when Keppler found him a few minutes later.
“Keppler!” he cried. “Thank God you came to me first!” Relief colored his face, and he tossed a soapy sponge aside, wiping his damp hands against his pants.
“What did you tell them?” Keppler asked, although he was sure he already knew.
Castor visibly gulped back his fear and stared at Keppler like he expected a shift and a spurt of fire to escape his lips, but the prince remained still, waiting for a response.
“You don’t understand,” Castor murmured. “I had to tell them about Bryn Castillo.”
“What did you tell them exactly?”
“I didn’t say anything to get you in tro
uble, Keppler, but I was worried about you! That woman is trouble, and she always has been!”
Keppler’s brow furrowed. “How can you know that if you weren’t alive when she was here? Moreover, she was only a girl then. Have you met her recently?”
“I knew of her since she came out of her exile,” Castor confessed, and Keppler’s eyes widened.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded, heat shooting up through his ears. “When I asked you, you pleaded ignorance.”
“There is a reason!” Castor promised, his face coloring with shame. “But when I tell you…” He cleared his throat.
“Castor, you’re not making any sense,” Keppler snapped, losing any remaining patience he had left. “You betrayed my trust after all our years together. I asked you for one small favor and you used it against me! I’ve been banished from the Hollows because of you! The least you can do is tell me the truth.”
Keppler felt slightly guilty blaming the Lycan for his predicament, but there was little time to retract his words.
“I… I am well versed in the stories of the Battles of Wyvern,” Castor muttered at last. “Too well versed. My parents told them to us every night, and ingrained the war in our minds to remind us of how we almost lost the reign to the Castillos.”
Keppler’s eyes narrowed, slightly confused as to why a Lycan family would care about the ancient past of dragons.
“Their parents told them the same tales, and their parents before them. It was important that the story stay alive among us.”
“Why?” Keppler demanded. “Why did your family care so much about a war we barely remembered until now?”
“Our family was committed to serving yours since the beginning of the takeover,” Castor explained. “Your rule was ours to preserve.”
Something in his words made Keppler’s stomach twist into knots, like he was missing a very important point.
“You have always been loyal,” he recalled, “which is why this is so baffling.”
Castor raised his head, and Keppler saw his ears point as fur began to spring along his knuckles. He was so stressed that he was starting to shift.
“Keppler,” he moaned. “I… I had to tell your brothers that she was near because it was only a matter of time before she learned the truth about what happened that night.”
Keppler’s stomach twisted even more painfully. “What happened that night?” he whispered. “What do you know?”
“It… it… it was us!” Castor screamed. His confession sent a blast of cold sweeping through Keppler’s body, leaving him nearly lightheaded. “All the servants got together and vowed to rid the Hollows of the unwelcomed dragons. You were our rulers, and only you! There was no room for the ones who forced their way in, and we needed to send a message to any others who might try.”
“Oh… Castor…” Keppler was at a loss for words. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what Castor had just shared. Castor and his ancestors? “How did you manage to exile the children?”
“Asuncion,” Castor answered. “She recommended them killed, but our forefathers didn’t have the heart to do it. They were still young. She warned them then that, even after five thousand years, the grudge would be strong. She was right.”
“How many were involved?” Keppler mumbled, thinking of all the mortal collaborators who had suffered at Bryn’s hand. They didn’t even know why they had been targeted. She will do much worse to those who knew about it and hid it.
“Dozens,” Castor told him, his voice almost too low to be heard. “There are hundreds of descendants now, all working within the palace.”
They stared at one another, Castor’s face fully transforming, his eyeteeth elongated as he ran his tongue over them.
“If she wants to get her revenge,” the Lycan sighed, “she will need to take down the entire palace.”
That’s why she brought her brothers here, a treacherous, doubtful voice inside Keppler’s head whispered. Did she know she would need reinforcements? Is it possible that her brothers aren’t as feeble and simple as they seem?
He shook his head to himself. Out of all the beings closest to him right now, he knew he could trust Bryn. She was his mate. She would not bring him or his family any harm.
Try as he might, though, Keppler couldn’t suppress the lingering concern mounting in his stomach. He picked up his cell to dial her number, and the call dropped instantly.
Dammit, Bryn! Where are you?
He had to find her before she did anything stupid like show her face in the Hollow. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
17
It seemed as though Jace was falling entirely by the time they crossed through the access and made their way through the Trenches. It was the seediest area of the Hollows in the Eastern Hemisphere, and therefore, the easiest place in which to blend in. Bryn had used the portal several times in the past, which was why she knew they would never be detected. At least, she hoped they wouldn’t.
It was hard to remain hopeful when she was half-carrying her brother on one side while Gregor supported him on the other.
“Not much has changed here,” Artemis commented, looking around the filth of the Trenches as he wrinkled his nose at the smell.
He was right; the lowly area of the Hollows had been purposely kept dismal and depressing, growing taller but not wider so that the clapboard buildings seemed to tower dangerously, like they were going to fall squarely upon them at any minute.
It was where the poorest lived: the ones who were addicted to lunasnuff and liquor, the pimps and prostitutes mixed in with the single moms who had been abandoned and rejected. Crime was at its highest the closer one ventured into the heart of the Trenches, and anyone with any self-respect stayed far away if they could afford it. It was somewhere Bryn had easily found partners to rob Wilder Parker’s businesses as she had prepared to fully take on the princes.
The dream for the Trench residents was to work in the palace or for one of the princes in other aspects of their businesses. But it wasn’t easy to find a job among the posh establishment unless you already had a referral, and those who lived in the Trenches only knew one another. Besides, every smart businessman knew that you couldn’t run a good economy without a lower class.
The socioeconomic growth of the Hollows, however, was not a primary concern for Bryn; not when Jace leaned so heavily against her body. She suddenly wished she had listened to her gut and called Keppler for the back-up she so desperately needed. They were playing a very dangerous game now, and Bryn was second-guessing every step she took.
I should have sent Gregor and Artemis back to the suite, she thought. I should have called my patch doctor instead. I should have texted Keppler. I should have…
But they were already here, and help for Jace was not far in the future. If they could make it to the medic, they would have a sanctuary from prying eyes until they knew what was wrong with him.
And then what? What could Bryn do at that point? She would have to smuggle her brothers back out to the inn before Keppler found out they were gone, and that would only happen if Jace was well enough to move again, which seemed unlikely. In his current state, he was not going anywhere.
And then he’ll be trapped in the Hollows, Bryn realized. What if the princes learn he’s here? We’re banished from the Hollows for eternity, even if the exile has been lifted.
“How much further?” Jace choked. If possible, his weight seemed to fall on her even more. She looked at Gregor, who seemed to be struggling to hold their brother up as much as she was.
“We’re almost there,” Bryn promised, although there was still a bit of a walk ahead of them. She considered contacting one of the immortals she knew for a ride, but she didn’t want to have to explain her brothers’ presence. It would bring too many questions, and if they were questioned later, they would know exactly where to lead the authorities. And Hollows Authority was not someone she wanted to run into face-to-face. They followed Reef Parker’s security protocols and
were a force to be reckoned with.
Bryn had, fortunately, not been on the receiving end of such treatment, but the stories were heard far and wide. She had no reason to disbelieve them.
“I need to rest.” The statement was made without any uncertainty, and before Bryn could comprehend what was happening, Jace fell to the ground, his body shaking as he sputtered and coughed.
“Dammit!” she cursed, looking at her brothers. “Go to the store and get him some water!” She pointed at a nearby bodega, which she knew was managed by a low-key Lycan called Yusef. He wouldn’t cause a problem if there was a commotion outside the store.
Then again, she didn’t know if anyone else would. Bryn had no way of knowing what would happen if Jace went down and didn’t regain consciousness. An ambulance would be called, she supposed, and questions would be asked about who they were and what kind of treatment he needed based on his bloodline.
But were her brothers really dragons anymore? If not, would that make Jace a mortal? If that was the case, they would be in more trouble than Bryn had originally thought. No mortal should ever be able to pass through the portal accesses.
Bryn stifled a cry of frustration as more problems surfaced in her mind. I need help. I need to call Keppler before this escalates. I’m in trouble.
She reached for her cell, watching Jace closing his eyes, only semi-conscious. As she went to dial, she saw they were in a dead zone. She had no reception.
“DAMMIT!” she cried in anger.
“Here,” Gregor said, panting slightly as he returned with a bottle of water.
“Give it to him, not me!” Bryn snapped, exasperated. She wondered how they had managed to survive the last decade in Greenland without her.
Gregor leaned down to press the water to his older brother’s mouth while Bryn’s mind whirled.
“Hey, Bryn.”
Bryn turned to the source of the voice, a thick accent she immediately recognized. Yusef appeared in the doorway of the store, lounging against the doorframe with a leer on his troll-like face. He was easily the ugliest Lycan Bryn had ever seen, but she knew not to be deceived by his awful looks. His heart was as good as they came for the Trenches.
