A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

8. Let Them Scream, Brother

eight

Let Them Scream, Brother

Rainer

I slam the door to my father’s office open. It hits the wall with a resounding crack.

Tynan whips around to face me, a cocky smile on his lips. “Hello, brother—”

With a snarl, I release my fearcaller power. Tynan’s smile melts away, a wide-eyed expression replacing the previous arrogance. He drops to his knees, staring at something in the space beside me.

“I ought to kill you,” I snarl.

A whimper escapes his mouth, feeding my adrenaline. Seeing the arrogant bastard on his knees, a prisoner to his fear, feeds the darkness inside of me.

I narrow my eyes, watching, as he claws at the air.

“It’s your brother,” Kenisuis whispers in my ear. “Rainer, let him go.”

I barely hear him, consumed by rage.

Not just because of Tynan. But because of Eoin’s cockiness. This morning, the pixies confirmed that Eoin’s been abusing his power against Alessia. It’s enough to send me careening into the darkness, threatening to destroy everything I’ve worked hard to maintain .

I’m mostly angry at myself. I’m constantly making mistakes, and I’ll never be enough for her.

My vision flickers, darkness encroaching, and I tighten my hold on Tynan’s fear. He cries out, and I want more.

I want him to choke on his terror.

“Rai.” Kenisius steps in front of me, blocking my view of my brother. “Don’t do it.”

My chest heaves vigorously as I clench my jaw.

“You’re better than him,” he says softly.

Slowly, the darkness recedes. I blink a few times. “ Fine .”

With ease, I disconnect the invisible tether to Tynan’s fear, and I’m immediately left with a gaping hollowness in my chest. Beads of sweat line Tynan’s forehead. He gasps, his wits coming back to him.

When he jumps to his feet and charges toward me, I do the same, meeting him halfway. I cock my arm back, landing my fist in his face with a sickening crunch. He stumbles back, knocking into the bookshelves. A few trinkets rattle, and a book tumbles forward onto the floor.

“Feckin’ cunt!” he screams, gripping his nose.

Pain shoots through my knuckles as I pummel him, but it’s nothing compared to the emotional turmoil he’s caused this last week.

I continue to land blows until a hand wraps around my wrist.

“Rainer,” Kenisius says sternly.

Going rigid, I let my friend pull me away. Kenisius has a formidable strength. He’s built muscular like my brother, but he rivals my height—a bear of a male, and perhaps the only one capable of challenging me .

Shrugging out of his touch, I put my hands up in submission, letting him know I’m done.

Tynan struggles to find his balance. He teeters sideways, gripping the bookshelves to hold him up. He peers at me with a cocky grin as blood streams down his broken nose.

Kenisius watches me carefully, shaking his head. “I wanted to kill him when I found him, too, but not like this. Don’t let him get to you.”

Again, I let Kenisius talk me down, but it’s because of the soft-hearted human filled with quiet strength.

Be better. For her.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a few long inhales and work to quell the violent storm inside me. It’s either that, or I snap and murder my brother.

I can’t do that.

I am better than that.

Plus, Tynan killed Alessia’s previous lover. The boy had a message, and Tynan was the last to speak with him. If there’s anything we need to know, my brother will have the answer.

Tynan laughs. He spits a glob of blood onto the hardwood floors. I grimace.

Disgusting.

“You’re cleaning that,” I growl. There’s no way I’m making Das Celyn, or any other staff, clean his dirty blood.

I adjust the rings on my fingers as my pulse settles. Blood wells around the metal, where the damn things cut into my skin. But it’s nothing compared to my brother’s face. A small smile tugs at my lips .

Deep cuts, the prize of our brutal altercation, mar his features. The sight of his swollen eye and broken nose elicits a mix of relief and satisfaction within me. There’s a thick tension in the air, a palpable energy of triumph and sorrow.

Sniffing the air, Kenisius follows an unseen scent. It draws him closer to Tynan, and he invades my brother’s personal space, inhaling deeply.

“Wine,” Kenisius says. “He’s drunker than a pixie on moonshade.” Kenisius grimaces at me. “High on the damn berries, too.”

Imbecile.

“Give us a moment?” I ask Kenisius.

He looks from me to Tynan, then nods, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword and stepping out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

I surge forward, grip my brother by the lapel of his jacket, and thrust him against the bookshelves. They rattle again, and a few more books tumble around us. His arrogant smirk stays in place, and I’m tempted to make it so he can never smile again.

“You abandoned your post.” I narrow my eyes. He’s Shyga’s only guard, ensuring no one disrupts the shadow-spirits lingering there and encouraging them to pass into the next realm.

“I already said there was an issue,” he slurs.

“I was wrong to think I could rely on you.” Spinning away from him so he can’t goad me with that smarmy smile, I run my hands through my hair. “You incompetent, selfish, arrogant—”

“Gods-damned failure!” Tynan roars. “I know!”

He appears at my side and sloppily shoves my shoulder. I stagger back but quickly recover my balance. Whirling on him, I give him a lethal stare .

“Is that what you want to hear?” Tynan gets in my face and I grimace at the sickeningly sweet stench of alcohol seeping from his pores. “That I can’t do anything right? That I can’t do the one job entrusted to me?”

Setting my jaw, I move to shove him away again, but he flinches. It’s so quick and subtle that I almost don’t notice. But it’s enough to keep me rooted in place.

I breathe, rolling up my sleeves to distract myself as I rein in my temper.

“Quite the opposite, Tynan,” I say. “I’d much prefer it if you had your shite together.”

“I lost control,” he murmurs.

When I face him again, that stupid grin is gone. In its place is an emptiness I recognize all too well. He uses his arm to wipe blood off his face, wincing when his skin brushes his nose.

Before thinking better of it, I stride to the desk, open a drawer, and pull out a small jar. There’s not much healing salve left, and it might not be enough to fix the broken bones, but it should ease some of his pains. I toss it at him. It hits his chest and clatters to the ground.

With a groan, he bends down to pick it up.

I lean against the desk and cross my arms. “After all this time without incident, why now ?”

“You ever spend time out there, prince ?” A new heat blazes through his words. He glares at me, wincing as he applies the cream to his face. “Or are you too good to leave your fancy little castle?”

“Careful, brother ,” I growl. “You know nothing about me.”

“That goes both ways, arse.”

We have a silent stare-off until Tynan shakes his head. “That place might host souls, but it’s wrong . Something isn’t right about it.” Shyga. He’s talking about the swamp. “It’s unstable. I think it needs its court.”

I shake my head. “Not possible.”

He hmms to himself as he finishes applying the salve, then tosses the empty jar back to me.

“The land is dying,” he says. “Never used to be like this. The pixies don’t even flit through there anymore. You know I go real crazy out there. By myself. Me and the faerie wine. Nothing but a bunch of spirits filled with rage, grief, and unfinished lives mocking them from somewhere beyond the bog.”

He’s not wrong. The swamp is a terrible place that smells wretchedly of sulfur. Nothing lives there, and the sun never shines. It’s filled with shadows and secrets and desperation…and death.

It used to resemble a forest instead of a swamp, but over the years, it has morphed into something haunting. It’s as if ink spilled across the land, slowly seeping into every crevice. I’ve heard stories of how magical and whimsical it once was—teeming with life.

It’s hard to imagine it as such a place.

Something niggles in my chest, and I reach up to rub the feeling away, not wanting to sympathize with him after everything he’s done. “Excuses are just that, Tynan.”

“Easy coming from the guy who has it all. You’re not the only one with no parents, no family, you know. We’re supposed to be family. Me and you.” He hiccups and turns away from me. I study his profile, recognizing the similarities between our high cheekbones and sharp jaws .

After a moment of silence, his dark blue gaze meets mine, and I find myself fixated on the scar dissecting his left eyebrow. It matches the many lining his neck and hands. They’re from underground fights in the Ethyria slums. His mother died giving birth, and his father— our father—abandoned him as a young child. He was left to fend for himself in the city, fighting for pay.

I hadn’t even known of his existence until years after my mother’s death. One day, I stumbled upon letters tucked inside her favorite book. They were letters from my biological father, and some discussed the existence of my half-brother, a brother I was desperate to meet after having no family left.

When I finally found Tynan, we were teens. He was more of a mess than he is now. Initially, I sent him to Shyga to keep him away from my court. It was meant to give him a sense of responsibility while protecting my folk.

Over the years, it turned into an actual responsibility, though our bond had never strengthened.

Maybe a better brother would’ve tried harder.

Swallowing down the unexpected emotion, I clear my throat. “Why’d you kill that boy in the woods? On Ostara.”

“What boy?” He looks confused for a second, then he chuckles. “Special to you, was he? Another one of your pet humans?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I back away from my brother, putting space between us again before I lose myself to the violence bubbling beneath my skin. Kenisius is no longer here to stop me, and I’m not feeling like a very moral male this evening. Not after my visit with Alessia last night. “Why, Tynan?”

He shrugs. “You only know half the thirst, brother. From the little you do, can you blame me? ”

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. “You have sources to feed off.”

His eyes narrow, and he gives me an unamused stare. “The feckin’ shitehead faeries?”

The criminals of Avylon, yes. Ones who’d otherwise be sentenced to death for horrendous crimes. Keeping them glamoured and locked up at Shyga works out perfectly for Tynan—it gives him a source of food and entertainment.

Or it used to.

“It’s never enough.” He crosses his arms. “I know you know that. Faerie blood is never enough. I have been so feckin’ lonely and thirsty. Those human girls you keep… they smelled so good.”

I lunge for Tynan, pressing my arm against his throat and walking him backward to the bookshelves. “Don’t go there,” I growl.

Tynan’s brows raise. “I didn’t,” he croaks out. “I didn’t think anyone would miss the boy.” He swallows, and I feel his throat work against my arm. I ease up the pressure just enough that he can continue talking. “He was lost, after all. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“What’d he say before you killed him?”

He wheezes, grabbing my arm and attempting to pry it away. “He was a scared little fellow, jumping at everything and checking his back. Didn’t belong here, that’s for sure. I snuck up on him, didn’t even have a chance to scream before I sunk my teeth into him.” His grip on me tightens. “Look, I didn’t think anyone would miss him. I respected your boundaries. Left your girls alone.”

I release my brother, pacing the room. “You left the body in plain sight. On Ostara of all nights.”

He rubs his throat, avoiding my line of sight. “Too much wine. I wasn’t thinking.”

I should’ve known better. At this, I do empathize. With Alessia around, it was almost too much. It practically drove me to madness. Tynan, a full-blooded vampyr, has been stuffed away from society, only indulging in faerie blood.

It’s like keeping a starved wolf in a dark cave for years, only to finally let it free among a flock of chickens.

It’s my fault.

“I remember something,” he croaks. I whip around, ready to beat it out of him if needed. Luckily, he keeps talking. “The boy kept mumbling sorry . Said he messed up but he’d make it right. Cried like a little bitch.” He sniffles, wiping his nose with his thumb. “Startin’ to think those apologies weren’t for me.”

I rub my brow, contemplating what I remember of Felix’s note for Alessia. A roundabout apology, one where he admitted knowing the risk of seeking her out. It was a form of suicide—one last attempt to rescue his dignity, regardless of the cost.

Some might find it noble. I find it rather anticlimactic.

The boy was too weak, too late, and too desperate.

“I need you to sober up, get your shite together,” I tell Tynan, turning the conversation around. “I rely on you, you know. You’re not as worthless as you think.”

He laughs. “Thought you were gonna kill me there for a minute, little brother.”

“Still might,” I mutter. But for all his faults, Tynan doesn’t deserve that. “I need you to find the shadow-spirit.”

“What shadow-spirit?”

“The one that escaped?” The one that had run around tormenting Alessia. The one that was arguably the catalyst for Tynan’s disobedience .

He shakes his head. “They’re all accounted for. For now, at least. But brother, I’m telling you, the magic is humming again. It needs a court to tether it. It needs its bloodline back.”

I grit my teeth, knowing this means I must visit Shyga and figure out what’s happening. Surely, it’s nothing. It’s just Tynan losing his grip on things. Which seems more and more like my fault for casting him aside. All things considered, it's a miracle he hasn't snapped sooner. The fact he didn't attack Fern or Alessia is a testament to his self-control. That's something I can respect.

“I can get you a human blood source,” I say. I have the perfect idea for fixing two of my problems at once. “With two conditions.”

His eyes flicker, and he perks up. “Tell me more.”

“You need to keep the sources alive. They die, you’re done. No more.”

“Easy. Next?”

“You can not glamour them.”

The interest in his expression grows as he steps closer, listening carefully. “They’ll be aware of… everything.”

“Precisely. I’m counting on it.”

“That’s unlike you.” He scratches his neck. “It will get… loud and messy.”

At this, it’s my turn to smirk. “Then let them scream, brother.”