*~*Ryder*~*
I wait in my office for Ristan to answer my call, as I weigh and consider my options. It was a delicate situation, one I wasn’t prepared for, but one I couldn’t ignore either. I watch as Ristan sifts in, his mind elsewhere. He turns and takes in the anger I’m churning with.
“What’s up?” he asks, his silver and black pattern eyes narrowing as he watches me.
“Where have you been the past few days?”
“Alden used the link I gave him; he said it was urgent and I tend to believe him,” Ristan’s tone is even; unaware that he’s a few words away from being dead.
“He needed you directly after you sent Synthia to the throne room?” I ask, his eyes watching me as they narrow even further.
“Yes,” he continues. “What does it matter? You knew of this agreement, and you know Alden means a lot to Synthia, brother,” he says, reminding me of our bond.
“Why did you send her to the throne room?” I ask as my beast watches him for any sign of weakness, willing to rip his throat out if he lies.
“Because you told me to,” he says, and then he shakes his head. “I fail to see where this needed immediate response.”
“I’m giving you this courtesy because we are blood. You are my brother, and together we’ve been through a lot,” I say and try to word it correctly, since lying is something Ristan can do.
“What am I being accused of?” he growls, directly getting to the point, his silver and black pattern eyes swirl, watching me.
“You sent Synthia to the throne room, where she was attacked by Mages.”
I watch as the blood leaves his face and his eyes open wide and then he’s moving towards me. “Is she okay? Are the babies okay?” he demands. His voice filled with pain as he watches me. And then he stops. “I didn’t set her up, I’d never do that to her,” he assures me as his hands comb through his hair and he scrubs his face with worry. “Answer me, please, are they okay?”
“They are fine. She escaped and killed those who attacked her. The question is, why did you send her to the throne room and tell her it was at my request?” he falters for a moment and his throat works.
“Because you asked me to,” he says softly, very much afraid. My brother isn’t afraid of anything, so his fear is not for himself.
“I did no such thing, Ristan,” I say and watch him cautiously.
“You met me in the corridor on my way to see her and requested she join you in the throne room!” His voice is louder this time, as if he is trying to convince himself of what he saw. I reach out and feel his mind. Fear for Synthia and the babes is all I find at the forefront of his mind. I find the memory and it is as he said. He believes he met with me and I asked him to bring her. My brother didn’t betray us.
“No, I never asked you to send her there, which means the Mages are both braver and bolder than we had anticipated. The babes are fine; their mother is quite the little warrior Goddess, even pregnant. Thankfully,” I say.
“I would never harm Synthia or your children, Ryder. I’ve grown very fond of her in the time she’s been here, and even before. I promise you this now, I will hunt down whoever it was who deceived me and I will kill him for you as a gift.”
“That’s not our goal right now, but thank you. What makes this so disturbing is if someone could impersonate me well enough to trick you—I need to find Synthia,” I growl as I push away from the desk and sift to the women’s pavilion.