A Shifter Disaster Thanksgiving (Holiday Shifters of Frost Mountain #6)

Chapter Ten

“Perhaps I Will Spread My Wings Tonight”

The last place Sylvester wanted to be was in Gregory’s quarters, but it was also the place he needed to be right now. At the very least, he would give his brother a piece of his mind or a taste of his fist. He stormed past the guards at the entrance, ignoring the bewildered looks on their faces, and strode into the building in search of Gregory.

If Jon hadn’t spoken when he had, he wouldn’t be here right now. The duo had been hard at work at the forge when Jon delivered the news to him: Rumors of war between Pine Gap and Glenstra were circulating and warriors were already being enlisted.

It was the very thing Gregory had always wanted.

To Sylvester, it sounded like a nightmare.

He’d shot to his feet before Jon had even finished speaking, leaving his friend stunned as he stormed through the village. Even now, he could feel his blood practically boiling beneath his taut skin, the veins pulsing in his neck as he brought himself closer and closer to the one man he despised the most.

He burst into the large living room where Gregory had been seated the other day. Sure enough, his brother was there, almost reclining in his chair, staring into the flames across the room as he listened to the smaller man next to him.

“I understand, Elias,” he said in a low, almost tired voice.

This time, it was he who first noticed Sylvester. He frowned as he watched his brother enter the room.

“Should I give you some privacy, sir?” Elias wanted to know.

Gregory held up a hand. “No need. This should not take long.” To Sylvester, he added, “What have you come for this time? And where is that wife of yours?”

“She’s in my cabin. I came alone.” Sylvester approached his brother. “I heard you’re going ahead with the war,” he said, anger causing his voice to tremble

Gregory’s expression did not change. He looked at his brother as if he were a fly buzzing near his ear. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, we are.”

Sylvester bit back a curse. “I can’t believe you’re actually going through with it. It’s madness!”

“I rejected Glenstra’s terms for surrender,” Gregory told him evenly. “It was the best decision for all of us.”

“But now we’ll be plunged into a war.”

“Perhaps.”

Sylvester scoffed, fixing his brother with a glare. “Are you happy now?”

Gregory tilted his head, not breaking eye contact. “What sort of question is that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, brother. You and I know war is what you’ve always wanted, and now it’s going to happen.” He shook his head in amazement. “Tell me, was it worth the life of our father?”

A sharp gasp erupted from Elias, followed by dead silence.

Gregory’s eyes narrowed. “You continue to accuse me.”

“There’s no need to pretend you didn’t kill him, Gregory. I know you—”

He never managed to finish what he was saying because a split second later, Gregory launched himself at Sylvester, colliding with him and knocking him to the ground with a thud. Pain shot through the base of his skull, causing spots to dance before his eyes.

His brother hovered over him, preparing to punch him but Sylvester rolled out of the way. Gregory’s fist slammed through the wooden floorboards, and with a grunt he yanked it out, his eyes blazing with fury.

Sylvester shot to his feet, bracing himself for another attack. But Gregory didn’t make a move toward him. Both men stood facing each other, chests heaving. Over Gregory’s shoulder, Sylvester could see Elias quivering where he stood. The faint sound of footsteps told him the guards outside must have heard the commotion.

“Never,” Gregory breathed, “ ever accuse me of killing our father again. We made a promise to our mother to never attack each other. I just struck at you. But I would never try to kill you, brother. You are my family, the only other Stormbringer. Tell me, why would I want to do the same to our father?”

The guards burst into the room, eyes wide, their hands gripping their swords.

“Is everything okay, sir?” one of them asked, his gaze darting between Sylvester and Gregory.

“Everything is fine,” Sylvester replied before Gregory could. He kept his gaze on his brother. “As for you… I just hope you can forgive yourself.”

And with that, Sylvester left the room, his boots thudding against the floorboards as he made for the exit. He didn’t stop even after he’d left the building, but continued to storm through the streets, doing his best to avoid bumping into other villagers.

It was nearly evening now. No use returning to the forge. As much as he needed to clear his mind, he doubted going back there would help.

“Sylvester?” called a voice. “Sylvester!”

He craned his neck in the direction of the voice, and groaned inwardly. It was Jon. The man had a worried look on his face, which instantly morphed into relief as he drew nearer.

“You left in such a hurry,” he said.

Sylvester nodded. “Sorry about that. I had to see my brother.”

“I figured as much. How did it go?”

When Sylvester didn’t answer, Jon’s eyebrows rose slowly with understanding.

“Oh,” he muttered. “Do you want to go back to the forge?”

Sylvester shook his head. “No, it’s already getting late. I’m going to head home and check on my wife. And perhaps I will spread my wings tonight.”