“Vartok.” Her hand was on my cheek, turning my gaze to hers. “Go. Isadora will help Nan start the concoction while I check in on Avaleen.”

“But I can?—”

“You can see your brother and chief,” she whispered, a fond smile on her lips. She knew me so well. “Go, my Mate.”

Gods below, I loved this female. Crushing her to me, I stole a quick, fierce kiss, then set her away and turned to Kragorn’s cottage.

“It seems I’ve missed a few things,” I heard Torvolk mutter to someone—the Keeper?—behind me. “Vartok and Myra areMated?”

“Ye’d ken this, ye big idiot,” our grandmother announced, “If ye hadnae spent the last sennight in bed with yer own Mate!”

Briefly, I had time to wonder howNanhad known we were Mated—was that a guess, or had she known even before she sent us on this quest together? But then I was pushing open the door and inhaling my brother’s familiar scent.

“Kragorn!”

At my bellow, the mousey human female—whom I didn’t recognize—by the hearth dropped a bowl with a startled yelp, but I didn’t care about her. Because from the bed came a weary chuckle.

“Good to see ye, brother.”

“Palton’s Spear.” I crossed the room, exhaling, and feeling as if all the worries of the last months were leaving my body with my breath. “No’ as good as ‘tis to seeye.”

But when I reached the bed, I winced.

My brother was propped up on pillows, his torso bare. It allowed me to see the bruising across his jaw and shoulders. One arm was in a splint, and bandages wrapped around his chest. His forehead and chest sported new, ugly wounds, barely healed, and one eye was covered in a bandage.

But his lips were twisted into a rueful grin as he held out his good forearm for me to grasp.

I clutched him like a lifeline as I sank to the mattress beside him.

“Who did this to ye?” I whispered. “The Stormseeker said ye’ve been in the Tarbert dungeon?—”

“Ye’ve met the Battleborn chief?” Kragorn’s brow twitched. “Yehavebeen leading our people well.”

“I never wanted the position,” I hurried to assure him. “I’ve been praying hourly to the gods for yer return.”

“So ye could give up the responsibility.” His lips were still twisted as he closed his good eye and settled back against the pillows with a little sigh. “Only that?”

“Aye, ye fooking arsehole.” I nudged his thigh beneath the blankets. “Only that reason. ‘Tis no’ like I missed ye or aught.”

My brother’s smile grew, although he didn’t open his eye again.

“Of course. I did no’ miss ye either.”

“Liar.”

His smile fell as he looked at me once more. “I would no’ have wished ye there with me, for certes.”

Gods below, his gaze was haunted.

“That bad, eh? The Tarbert is no’ a welcoming host?”

There was a whimper from behind me, and I almost turned. I’d forgotten the little human woman—was that the prisoner Torvolk had mentioned? But I watched Kragorn’s gaze flick over my shoulder to land on her, and something in his expression…shifted.

Thoughtfully, I glanced back at her. Her head was bowed and her hands shook as she stirred the pottage in the cauldron over the fire. She was not the type of female whousually caught my brother’s eye. He preferred his partners curvier, to match his size. This mouse must be here for another reason.

When I turned back to the bed, Kragorn’s eyes were closed again, tight lines around them speaking of his pain.

“Nay,” he murmured. “Tarbert is a bastard.”