[Lucien]
Before I even registered what I was doing, my body lunged forward, claws out, instincts snapping louder than thought.
Alarich twisted with that same infuriating calm of his, ducking low, catching my wrist, and using my momentum to hurl me clean over his shoulder. My back scraped gravel and I rolled, landing in a crouch, claws digging into the gravel to keep myself from being pushed too far.
I was up again in an instant, stretching my shoulders with an arm roll, not daring to take my eyes off my brother. He was quicker than I’d expected.
So that was the difference between me and the first son of Dorian Vargsward. Despite his broad, lazy posture and that dead-eyed look, Alarich wasn’t just fast. He was trained.
It made no sense. Why would our father elevate me and not him? Why
