23
Dryas
After a little bit of wandering the cobblestone streets of Interlaken, glaring at my brother’s broad back as he speaks in halting German, we sit down for drinks at a beer bar. The barkeep sullenly sets two foamy pints of dark beer down and vanishes, leaving us sitting alone at the polished wood bar.
Damen sighs as he takes a sip of his beer. I look at my own glass, pushing it away from me a few inches. It is tempting, but I can’t self-destruct right now. There are too many things that depend on me being alert and focused, things like Rue’s safety and my revenge against that bastard Derrik.
Damen eyes me pushing away my glass and looks surprised. “What? You are going to make me drink alone?”
He speaks in Greek, our shared native tongue. It’s been so long since I heard it, and
