“Why are you telling us?” The Lucky King narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Because Azazil wished it.”
They all shared a knowing look, their lips curled in understanding. Trying not to think of Ari, or let his cocky smile falter, The Red King murmured dispassionately, “You know Father likes a good drama. You better choose your sides again, brothers. Our Father is not about to lose this one.”
Without even a ‘by your leave’, as if their minds thought as one, The Gleaming King and The Shadow King fled into the Peripatos. Ignoring the press of worry that gnawed at his chest, The Red King grinned over at The Gilder and Lucky King. “Well… in or out?”
“Still out,” they said in unison, although they couldn’t help but looked intrigued. They were of course their father’s sons. But with one last wary look, The Red King was unsurprised when they too stepped off into the Peripatos to return to their palaces to live out their lives away from the conflict.
Remaining before him was the brother who looked most like him. The Glass King. His deep, cerulean blue hair slid across his shoulders as he strode towards him. Unlike Azazil and the others, The Glass King favored stark leather vests that matched his trousers instead of colorful robes. He wore no earrings, no rings, had no tattoos. His eyes that could be mistaken for being dyed to match his hair shone fiercely out of his exotic face. He dropped to a knee, clasping his hands together, the leather cuffs around his wrists straining with his intensity. He bowed his head, his blue hair shimmering in the light from the fire as it fell over his face. Feeling less alone, The Red King placed a weary hand on his brother’s shoulder, silently asking him to lift his head. He did and they shared a long look of resignation.
The Glass King nodded in understanding, perceiving things within The Red King that none of the others ever had. His grim façade softened and he placed his own hand on The Red King’s shoulder. “How may I serve you, brother?”
THE END