Brothers - 34. Chapter 34

DEVYN

The wolf kept pace with Ruby until they reached the hill. The pack had already thinned out considerably, several other wolves surging ahead while Ruby held back. Devyn was fighting the urge to chase after the ten wolves who were drawing ahead of him, but it was a losing battle.

And then they hit Wolfsbane.

One by one, the other wolves fell to Ruby’s relentless pacing, falling behind as Devyn nudged just ahead of his running partner. She knew what she was doing, but he also knew that cresting the hill was the hardest part of the run. He could clear the descent in leaps and bounds, working different muscles. It would be hard work, but it would leave his legs relatively fresh to sprint the last mile.

As he broke over the crest of the hill, Devyn slowed, a strange scent in the air. Deer… and rabbit… and Jason? The acrid scent of fear hit him, and the wolf slowed to a stop, sniffing the air uncertainly. The race was all but forgotten; he needed to know why Jason was afraid. He needed to help his mate-

A snarl behind him made the wolf startle, Ruby loping past him over the hill, and the wolf whimpered slightly. A mile and a half left to go, to get down the hill. Ten minutes at most.

Sprinting after Ruby, the wolf yelped as he twisted his ankle on a dismount over a fallen tree, but kept going. Right front paw hanging limply, Devyn fought against the pain as he continued his sprint, blurring past Ruby in his haste to get back to the field, to get to his brother who was scared.

It was taking too long, he was taking too long, but Devyn was running all out, not even bothering to conserve energy. A mile flew by under his feet, the scent of deer held as he kept to the course. As much as he wanted to tear through the brush around him, race to Jason’s side, even Devyn knew going off the trail would likely lead to him losing any hope of catching his brother’s scent. Already it was fading, mixing with the other scents of nature, and he focused on the one scent he knew would keep him on the track.

And finally the wolf reached the last turn, breaking back into the school’s track as sprinters lined up for a run. His eyes scanned them quickly, a double row of flags funneling him into a chute toward the finish line as Devyn’s uninjured paws flew the final length as though Zasar’s messengers were after him.

Streaking over the finish line, the wolf nearly collided with Sandolin, the elf grabbing at Devyn’s shoulders.

“Jog it off,” the elf said loudly, grabbing Devyn’s fractured attention.

His hands pushed the wolf along the track, Devyn yelping as he nearly tumbled onto his injured ankle, and instantly Sandolin was in front of him again. Devyn nearly bit the elf as hands grabbed his leg, Sandolin avoiding the bite. He scowled at Devyn, the wolf whimpering as pain lanced through his leg.

Other two legs hurried toward them, crowding around Devyn as he was carefully pushed to the ground. He saw Margaret standing among them, the werewolf’s face filled with worry for her son.

Sandolin backed away as a doctor knelt beside the wolf, the sharp scents coming from the man reminding Devyn that he needed to try to get to Lysander too. Gentle hands ran over his foot, the wolf yelping as fingers hit a tender spot.

“Just a twist,” the two legs said to Margaret. “Keep him off it for a couple of days, give him a warm compress if it hurts.”

The werewolf nodded quickly as Devyn hobbled back to his feet. His entire body was starting to hurt, but that wasn’t a major concern for the wolf; he was more worried about why he couldn’t see Jason.

Nose in the air as he tried to catch his brother’s scent, Devyn limped toward the stands, hackles raising as Connor hurried toward him.

“Devyn, Jason-”

“Don’t worry about Jason,” Margaret said tightly. “I’m already dealing with him. I’m sure he’s fine; the King’s Guard isn’t going to hurt him.”

A harsh growl escaped Devyn at the words, the wolf staring his mother down. What was she doing here? Why wasn’t she out looking for his brother? Why did the Guard take Jason?

“Don’t give me that look. It’s not like I could try to get him back from the Guard,” Margaret said sharply. “I’m already trying to get a hold of them to ask what is happening, but surprisingly the secrets they hold are remaining secrets.”

He could smell the worry coming off of her, and it surprised Devyn. She had pushed his brother down the stairs, she had done everything she could to make their lives difficult, Jason seemed to think she had tried to kill Lysander. Why was she worried about him? And more importantly, where was Jason?

JASON

He held onto the handle of the locked door with a death grip, his fur puffed in terror as the van sped through the streets of Astara, aiming toward the palace itself. This was bad. He was literally being taken to see the king of Astara, and there was only one reason he could think of.

Jason should have listened to Dylan.

Not that it would have helped. Jet had already read it; Jason just should never have agreed to let it be sent to the palace.

But despairing about what he should have done would not help him now. The large car was rushing up a long hill toward the palace. He had already been searched, one of the elves roughly frisking every inch of his body, despite the fact that he clearly had nowhere he could hide weapons in his tight running clothes. They had even pulled his tail out of his shorts; his clothes were barely covering the lower half of his ass because apparently his tail was a dangerous weapon that wasn’t allowed to be concealed.

The car pulled up to a small building near the back of the palace, and the neko let out a relieved breath. It seemed he wouldn’t be dying in a car crash today. The two elves stepped out of the front seats, Jason’s door opening a moment later.

“Come on cat,” one of them sneered, fingers wrapping around the neko’s arm tightly.

Jason gritted his teeth, but remained silent as he was led roughly into the building. A dark skinned older neko stood up from a computer screen, frowning at the sight of Jason in his track clothes. Muttering quietly to himself, he stepped toward a locker, throwing a set of pants at the mute neko. Jason caught them with a look of surprise, nearly stumbling as an elf pushed him toward a small closet.

“Change. Aaron, Leon, you’re dismissed,” the other neko said sharply.

The elves bowed slightly, before hurrying from the room. Jason ducked into the closet, the door closing as he quickly changed into the pants. He sighed in relief as he found a proper tailhole, lacing up the hole with trembling fingers. Stepping out of the closet, he frowned as the other neko frisked him again, every inch of his body going through another patting down.

“You’ll do for now. When you see the king, bow from the waist.”

‘Why am I seeing the king?’ Jason demanded, his hands flying as the frustration poured from him.

“Save your signs for the office,” the other neko scowled. “There will be a translator waiting to speak for you. I will be there to guard King Finley. You will make no sudden movements.”

His hand came to the neko’s back, guiding Jason forward from the room and into the palace proper. They marched through the palace, Jason gazing wide eyed at the opulence that filled the halls. Polished suits of armour sat beside more modern conveniences, eleventh century candelabras hanging from the ceilings with electrical candles that flickered with faux flames while still pouring light down on them. Long velvet carpets ran the warm halls, tapestries depicting moments of history lining the walls as the two nekos passed.

Jason was nudged through a pair of large doors, a couple humans bowing slightly before stepping out of the room and closing the doors behind them. He was pushed into a bow, coming up only when the older neko allowed. And then he came face to face with the king of Astara.

King Finley’s brown skin didn’t seem to hold his age well. Barely thirty six years old, his eyes bore the wrinkles of someone much older, a look of pain crossing his face as he adjusted his seat in anticipation of the neko before him. It made Jason wonder, was this the price of leadership? Or was this the agony of losing a mate long before their time?

A human and another neko stepped forward, Jason’s eyes taking in the princess of Astara as he hastened to bow again.

“Jason Farin. I assume you understand why you are here,” King Finley said tightly. “Alandra will speak for you. I want you to… discuss the reasoning behind your actions.”

‘This is about the story, right?’ Jason signed shakily, the red furred neko repeating his words out loud.

The king nodded simply, waiting for Jason to continue. It was almost like he wanted Jason to incriminate himself and the one who had told him about the neko god. Obviously he was not about to throw Dylan to the wolves like that.

‘It was just a story. I heard someone mention a river god of the nekos, and my mind ran with it. There are a lot of empty temples in Sarelin, and my parents used to tell me stories about them as a kitten. If they had been abandoned for two hundred years, it made sense that they would have been in use during… during the Rebellion,’ he signed nervously, ears flattening slightly. “I didn’t think it would cause a problem. They’re just stories, right?”

The king waited for Alandra to finish translating, his eyes darkening with each word.

“You are almost devious enough to be a politician,” he said quietly. “You are well read; tell me, have you read up on the punishment for lying to a sovereign?”

Jason gulped audibly, his eyes glancing away from the king in terror.

‘A year to a life in prison, depending on the crime… and the ruler’s mood…’ he signed.

“I am not in a good mood. So I will give you one more chance to explain yourself.”

‘It is the truth, your Majesty. It really is. But I won’t tell you who told me about the god.’

“It is the truth, your Majesty. It really is. But I can’t tell you who told me about the god,” Alandra repeated, and Jason shook his head, signing repeatedly. “I… won’t…”

King Finley’s face darkened with a scowl, Jason glancing down nervously. But he was going to stand his ground.

“Fine. Dylan Ethis.”

Jason’s head shot up, his fur puffed out in terror.

“He is a calico, and is close to you. It wouldn’t be Damian Ethis; he’s too shy around other nekos. But his son is careless, and would let this slip. Your dedication to your friend is admirable,” Finley said quietly. “But it will only get you both killed. You are not the only one who can research. We’ve known about calicos since the first neko held the crown. We aren’t as stupid as people like to think we are.”

‘Then why am I here? Why aren’t we dead?’

“Father, if I may?” the princess said suddenly, and Finley nodded. “Because no one needs to know cultists of Tareth are so widespread they might as well never have died out. Because if we made an example of you and your friend, other priests would realize they are not alone, not the last of their god’s people. And they would reform the religion that took the blame for the Rebellion, elves would demand justice be done upon those who dare to worship the god of the Red Ghost. You are here so we can determine what you know. At the moment, you are the leading expert on Tareth, the only expert we can get our hands on without reprisal.”

“Your story was… surprisingly well researched, well written for something that was barely three pages long. We need you to keep writing. It’s been two hundred years since the priests of Tareth have been heard. Nearly all documentation of his people, his beliefs, has been destroyed, save for what lies in the palace library,” the king said. “Every copy of your story has been destroyed, except for one, which will be kept in the library so future rulers may read it. But we want more. And we want it as accurate as possible. It is beyond time the god of love was brought back, albeit without his followers’ taste for revenge.”

‘You… you want me to write a religion?’

“Recreate it,” the king corrected. “We will give you eight gold a month to research Tareth to the best of your abilities, and write about him. Your own words, not ours. We don’t need someone to wash the stories with political correctness, we need a record of what most likely happened before and during the Neko Rebellion.”

“Your friend has nothing to fear from us, but you might tell him to be more careful about praying under his breath. Lip readers do exist,” the princess added with a slight smirk.

Jason took a deep breath, thinking.

‘Your Majesty, I know nothing about Tareth, beyond his name and his inclusion in a single prayer I never should have heard. I can’t ask my friend about him, he would freak out.’

“There are still fragmented writings from the time in the library,” the princess said. “You are not permitted to remove them, but you may make notes. We will expect your first writings in two months. Until then, you may use the palace library at your discretion, so long as Guard Darius accompanies you.”

She motioned toward the black furred neko behind Jason, the younger neko’s eyes flicking over him uncertainly.

‘There… there is one thing, Your Majesty,’ Jason signed nervously. ‘Your guards… one of them referred to me as a cat.’

It was petty, he knew it was, but Jason was not about to let someone get away with that, not if he had to come to the palace and see the guard every day.

“Darius?”

The neko nodded, stepping out of the room momentarily. He returned, and silence took over the room, cutting off nearly five minutes later when the two elf guards who had dragged Jason to the palace stepped into the office.

“I was just informed that one of you referred to one of my people as a cat,” the king said dangerously, and the elf on the left paled, the two glancing at each other. “Which one of you saw fit to use a slur? I want you to step forward, if you are so bold, and call me a cat.”

One of the elves dropped to his knees, his head bowed as he shook.

“Forgive me your Majesty. It will never happen again.”

“You’re right,” the king growled. “Darius, see to it this elf is escorted off the palace grounds. He is no longer in my employ, and you will make it abundantly clear the king personally saw him fired.”

“Yes your Majesty,” the neko said, bowing slightly.

He was waved off by the king, and the three left the room, Darius’ claws digging into the elf’s shoulder.

“If you have trouble with any of the guards, you are to let me know. From this point on, you are under my personal employ,” the king added sternly. “Do not disappoint me, Jason Farin.”

DEVYN

Devyn sat in the car silently, a ribbon set next to him. It was the first of many, but at the moment, the wolf didn’t care about winning the race. All he wanted was to figure out where Jason was. Yet his mother wouldn’t let him track the scent.

He knew it would be dangerous to go after his brother, but if it was dangerous for him, then how much danger was Jason in? Devyn needed to find him, needed to help him, but his mom seemed insistent that talking into a piece of plastic would actually solve all their issues.

“I don’t care what you have to do. You get Lysander on the phone. I want to know what he did to make the guard take Jason!” the werewolf spat into the phone as they pulled into the driveway.

Devyn strained at his belt, but the wolf had no way to unbuckle himself without his thumbs, and he couldn’t change back now. He was trapped until Margaret let him out.

The door slammed shut, Margaret storming around the car. She threw open the back door, reaching in to free her son as she barked into the phone.

“I don’t fucking believe you! Richard and I settled everything, it is none of your business whether or not I am taking care of my sons!”

Devyn tried to bolt past his mother as soon as he was free, but she caught a handful of fur, holding him tight as a foot kicked the door shut.

“Yes, they were fucking guards! I couldn’t even get to him, they just grabbed him before his race and took him away! What the fuck do you mean you had nothing to do with them?!”

She marched Devyn into the house, the wolf still limping after his injury. He collapsed by the door, nearly wrenching himself from Margaret’s grip, and the woman stumbled, dropping her phone.

“Son of a bitch!”

Stooping down, she grabbed her phone, taking a moment to lock the front door and the wolf door below it.

“You’re not leaving Devyn. I’m not losing my other son today.”