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“Well, that may be,” Sloane recovered quickly from the shock admission. “But it was still a dick move,” Slone grumbled.

“Probably,” Cord shrugged, he had lost interest in the conversation and wanted to get the fire message off to his father. “Once we have done this, I want to meet her.”

“Tegan?” Sloane asked in confusion. “Why?”

“She’s your cousin,” Cord grinned at him. “Do I need a reason?”

“Because you’re you… yes, you do.”

Cord’s laughter was genuine as he clasped his brother on the shoulder. “I have missed you, little brother.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Sloane muttered as they ascended the stairs to the rooms above. “You sure you want the Castors Chamber? You can sleep in the family wing.”

“I don’t think I want to be that close to temptation,” Cord winked conspiratorially towards him.

Sloane slowed to a stop and he looked back at him in confusion. “Tegan?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” Cord scoffed. “Salem. I don’t want to put wards up in the night so I can sleep – it’s nice to have a full night’s sleep without maintaining wards.”

“He would never,” Sloane defended the Principal Elite Akrhyn vehemently. “He isn’t Cornelius.”

“True,” Cord conceded as he pushed open the door to the Castors Chamber. It was furnished with soft furs and velvets. He hated the room, it always seemed overly opulent to him. He was pleased to notice his younger brother look at the room with derision also. “Ugh, it’s so fake and over the top. No wonder most Akrhyns hate us.”

“Yeah, it’s your taste in furnishings that puts Akrhyns off,” Sloane mocked his brother. “Nothing to do with your creepy magic, blood sacrifices or love for the darkness.” Again, Cord surprised him when he laughed, it was unnerving seeing his brother carefree.Was this what selecting his Cast did for him?Sloane wondered, as he regarded his brother shrewdly. He grudgingly had to admit, a carefree Cord was better than the intense son of a Drakhyn he usually was. “You’re freaking me out being all happy and shit,” Sloane crossed his arms as he watched his brother.

Cord sobered as he looked at his little brother. “I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“I never said that, it’s just weird seeing you something other than moody.”

“You wound me,” Cord smirked at his brother as he started to pull powders and small bottles of coloured liquids from his robes.

“You really want to do this now?” Sloane asked, his voice betraying the fact he was resigned to it.

“No time like the present,” Cord answered distractedly as he sat down, sorting through his ingredients.

“I hear the past was a better time,” Sloane’s half-hearted jest fell on deaf ears however, his brother lost to his art. Minutes passed before Cord declared he was ready to send the fire message. Sloane kept his admiration at the speed and skill of his brother’s ability to Cast to himself – he didn’t need any more encouragement at being an overbearing, egotistical jerk.

“What are you going to say?” Cord enquired as he created a fire in the middle of the floor. Sloane watched the flames burn on nothing as the flames licked the air around them but gave no heat. “Sloane!’ Cord snapped at him, bringing him back into the present.

“Hey,dad, so Leonid Novikov turned up at Headquarters with Aunt Celeste’s lovechild, who is already an Elite Elder, and is possibly Heir instead of Michael. Okay, so yeah, congrats, you’re an Uncle. No need to visit Headquarters, bye.” Sloane sat down on the chair dejectedly. “What do you think? Needs work??

“I hope not, I sent it.”

Sloane froze. “Tell me you’re playing a joke of Velvore,” his rapidly beating heart was loud enough to deafen him.

“No, it was fine, said all you needed,” Cord dusted his hands and started to rearrange his powders.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Yet I did,” Cord looked up at him and grinned. “Don’t worry so much, brother. Cornelius will appreciate it without all the stuttering and stammering you usually do.”

“He’s going to lose his mind!” Sloane yelled.

“I would argue he lostthatalready, but you know, I’m maybe not subjective,” Cord shrugged like that was an actual problem.

“I cannot believe you sometimes,” Sloane slumped in the chair.

“His message is coming,” Cord warned quietly before the small magical fire in the middle of the room roared with intensity.


Tags: Eve L. Mitchell Akrhyn Paranormal