Ailuin grinned. “Sounds like words to me.”
Bernard grimaced. “Oh, shut it.”
The black elf laughed. “My reaction was much the same.”
“Teasing you makes him feel better.”
Ailuin rolled his blue eyes, then turned to his brother. “At least I know how to tease, Lamruil. I do believe I got all the lighthearted genes while you are all somber and boring.”
His brother’s silvery-blond brow rose. “One of us has to be good enough to rule and not resemble a court jester.”
Bernard shook his head, his previous inner turmoil dissipating as he listened to the antics of the twin rulers.
“You two are going to have to learn how to get along if you are going to be any good at ruling a bunch of unruly elves. You know that, don’t you?” Freyr grumbled as he entered through the arched door behind the empty dais.
“Where are your thrones?” Bernard asked, glancing at Lamruil, then his brother, noticing both looking a touch uncomfortable. When neither answered, he couldn’t help but press. “It isn’t a hard question, you know.”
“With those two,” Freyr said, “nothing is ever simple. They can’t seem to agree on the style, material, placement—hell, they can’t agree on anything.”
Bernard laughed.
“Lamruil’s design is too simplistic and boring—”
“Ailuin’s design is ridiculous—”
Bernard stepped between the two men and held up his hands. “Whoa, hold on. There’s always a solution if you will just talk things out. You two may be identical twins, but you are also two very different people...most times,” he said, ignoring the god’s deep chuckle behind him. “Why not design your thrones with similar features? Lamruil’s can be streamlined while Ailuin’s can have a few more flourishes. Maybe you can have gemstones set in a family crest to signify the co-regency and the same color cushion?”
The brothers stared at each other, their identical mouths curling up on opposite sides as they nodded. Ailuin stepped forward and clapped Bernard on the shoulder, a habit he wasn’t sure he cared for, but kept silent. “That’s a perfect solution! I told Lamruil we needed to ask you—you always manage to solve the problem.”
Catching Freyr’s curious look, Bernard shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.” He watched the brothers walk in sync toward the dais. “And maybe with a bit of common sense too,” he mumbled under his breath.
“I agree,” Freyr added, chuckling as he crossed his thick arms over his chest. “Oh, my sister is looking for you. Something about things going wonky on Midgard and the war. I thought all of that was over with?”
Some of his angst returned, and his stomach began to churn. “What do you mean?”
“She mentioned something about events changing that shouldn’t have and other things—all equally terrible, according to her. That’s her realm, not mine. Of course, I warned her not to meddle with Midgard’s timeline. When you change one thing, too many other things can be affected, both good and bad.”
A sick sensation stole through him as he digested the Norse god’s words. He could only hope the events Freyja was worried about were those she and the Night Witches had changed and had nothing to do with what he was doing, but deep down, he knew they weren’t. The nauseous roiling in his stomach worsened.