Luminous

82 - My Brother's Keeper

The doors closed with barely a sound. The servant's footsteps echoed further and further away, then melted into the soft hum of background noise.

From their long chair, Father and Mother glowered up at Zier and Coris. Mostly Coris. Zier sneaked a glance at his brother. His eyes were void of emotion, but Zier felt fury mingled in the cold emanating from him. He returned to his thoughts with a gulp.

He drew in a deep, shaky breath, reminding himself of what he'd planned. He'd drugged Jetta and the entourage's horses, stranding them all in the Sands for a week. He couldn't let it go to waste. Yet, every time he filled his lungs and raised his eyes to his parents, his resolve petered away along with blood from his numb lips.

He took too long dithering. Coris blew a soft sigh of surrender then plastered on a bright smile.

"So, what are we working with here?" He flourished two bare, pale hands. For once, he wasn't able to read the room.

"Not much." Mother shrugged. She cocked her head at Zier, "He said you're planning to sneak away to Everglen and bring back the lost ore ships. The rest of the truth is too dangerous for letters. Our guess is it has something to do with The Axel."

The mere word sucked all heat and air out of the room. Zier felt three pairs of eyes honing in on him. He should stand tall, but he folded in on himself.

"Zier?" called Father, impatient. It was time. Had been for the last quarter hour—No, six years.

Do it now. End this. Free Brother from your sin.

Zier dragged in another deep breath. Hopefully, he wouldn't need any more.

"Very well," He shivered. Fists clenched, he looked up,

"Father, Mother, I—"

He found their eyes. Father—his own blue. Father had never placed much, if any, expectation on him. Coris had always been his hope. The prodigious heir, ever ready to sell his soul for the Hadrian cause. Even after Coris fell sick, after his recent rebellions and betrayals, Father still hadn't given up, had never once spared Zier a glance. The Axel Heist was the one time his predictable sons defied expectations. And yet, Father still wouldn't give up on Coris. The one time Zier acted the heir, not Coris. But even that was a lie.

"I—"

Another feeble attempt. Mother stared deep into his eyes. Hers were the sharp gray of Coris's eyes. Mother's love was begrudging. She'd wanted little to do with young Coris, with his precocious, manipulative nature and tantrums. She'd always fawn over Zier—the quiet, sweet, innocent blue-eyed babe who did no harm. The spare she could spoil and coddle and mold to her heart's desire, since Father had claimed Coris for his own. But he was about to shatter that dreamlike doll.

If he confessed, Father's indifference would turn to disgust. Mother's fondness would turn to disappointment. He couldn't lose them. Those shallow, fleeting semblances were the closest to love he'd ever get from them. If he didn't, Coris would resent him, then die with the secret, forever branded a traitor in his place. Nothing would change. And he couldn't have that, either.

Wasn't that why he orchestrated all this? To return justice to his brother who had sacrificed so much for him? But then Father and Mother would hate him, probably banish or kill him. They could. He was the spare, a bumbling one at that. They had no need for him.

"I—We know what The Axel is. Coris plans to use surgery to remove it. To save the dragons."

The words tumbled out, almost of their own free will. And there it went. Another chance, wasted. Weeks of preparation, made meaningless by seconds of cowardice. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face the consequences. He couldn't lose what little love he had from his parents.