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The hug started off as equals, two brothers finding each other. But it ended with Kas as the patriarchal one. The father figure who’d assumed responsibility for Jareth’s well-being years ago. Who still took that responsibility seriously and hated himself for hurting him. “I need to make sure I didn’t break you.” Stepping back, Kas looked Jareth up and down. “No fractures? No nausea?”
Jareth smirked. “I’ll live. I always do.”
Kas flinched. “And the others? Do they live?”
Jareth went deathly still. “I don’t know.”
Kas tripped backward, breaking their hold. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Jareth zipped up his jacket, doing his best to ignore the obvious bruises beneath his clothes. “It means you weren’t the only one trapped for the past eleven years.” Brushing past him, Jareth tripped a little as whatever injury Kas had done to his leg either sorted itself out or he flat out ignored it. Moving toward his backpack, he hissed between his teeth as he slung it onto his shoulder. “I need to rest and inhale some painkillers. We’ll talk later.” His tone gave no option but to agree.
Striding into the darkness, heading in the direction of Fables, he didn’t wait for us to follow.