His eyes met hers for just a moment, and she caught something there, a warning, yes, but also something else. Through the warmth, she felt his careful control and underneath it, that same desperate need from the morning, ruthlessly suppressed.
"Come," he commanded, voice revealing nothing.
She moved through the room using the liquid grace he'd taught her, letting the warmth guide her movements. The dress flowed like water, the dramatic sleeves creating an impression of something not quite solid. She was performing, just as he was, both of them playing roles while that warmth pulsed between them, secret and hungry.
A figure rose from Eliam's right—tall, white-haired, draped in layers that seemed to shift between gray and white like winter storm clouds. His outer robe was nearly translucent, worn over a fitted silver tunic and pale leather vest adorned with chips of ice-blue stone.
Multiple shimmering chains of different lengths hung from his neck, each holding pale blue crystals that caught the light like frozen tears. Where Eliam's style was sharp and controlled, Malachar wore his power loosely, carelessly, as if he might shed or add layers based on whim. When he smiled, it was all predator.
"So this is your latest acquisition." Lord Malachar moved toward her with fluid grace. "The rumors didn't do her justice."
He intercepted her before she reached the table, circling her slowly. His presence was different from Eliam's. Where the Forest King was dark earth and growing things, Malachar was frozen lakes and killing frost.
"Such fascinating marks," he continued, stopping behind her. "Still fresh, I see. How thorough of you, Eliam."
"I've always believed in attention to detail," Eliam replied, voice carefully pleasant. But through the warmth, she felt his rage at another male so close to her while exuding such thinly veiled intentions.
"Indeed." Malachar completed his circuit, pale eyes studying her face. "She seems different from your usual pets. There's something about her that's almost—" He paused, tilting his head. "Luminous."
The warmth pulsed nervously. Could he sense it somehow?
"Briar," Eliam said, drawing her attention. "Pour our guest some wine."
She moved to the sideboard, using every lesson about moving without telegraphing emotion. As she leaned to pour for Malachar, his fingers trailed along her bare arm. The touch made goosebumps prickle across her skin, she wanted to slap his hand away but she forced herself to remain still until the glass was full.
"Such warmth," he murmured. "One forgets how hot human blood runs. Like touching summer itself."
She kept her expression neutral as she pulled back, using every lesson about giving nothing they could exploit.
"Tell me," Malachar continued, though his voice carried to the entire table, "do all your pets dress so ethereally? Or is this one special?"
"Briar dresses as pleases me," Eliam's tone remained pleasant, but the temperature dropped a degree. "As is my right."
"Of course. Your rights in your own domain are absolute." Malachar's gaze lingered on her. "Though one wonders what inspired such an interesting choice. Neither your colors nor entirely neutral. Almost as if you're displaying something without quite claiming it."
The observation was too sharp. Around the table, courtiers watched with avid interest.
"You seem remarkably invested in analyzing my choices, Malachar." Eliam's smile was sharp. "Perhaps you should focus on your own domain. I hear the border disputes have been... challenging for you lately."
A ripple of tension passed through Malachar's entourage. One of his courtiers started to rise, but Malachar raised a lazy hand, stopping them.
"Indeed they have been," Malachar agreed without shame. "Which is why I've come to propose a mutual arrangement. Your forests border my winter reaches. Together, we could settle these disputes definitively." He smiled. "Unless you prefer to remain isolated in your sovereignty."
The threat was elegantly delivered—cooperate or face potential enemies on multiple borders. Eliam's expression revealed nothing, but Briar felt the warmth pulse with his controlled anger.
"We'll discuss your proposition after dinner," Eliam said finally. "In private. For now, enjoy my hospitality."
The next hour was a careful dance. She moved around the table, serving, feeling eyes track her movement but few dared touch. Malachar's courtiers were bold but careful, testing boundaries without quite crossing them. But Malachar himself grew more pointed with each cup.
"I notice you mark her quite extensively," he said during the fish course. "Is she so prone to wandering that you must claim every inch?"
"She's spirited. It requires proper handling."
"Spirited." Malachar's laugh was like breaking ice. "Is that what we're calling it? In my court, we find other ways to ensure loyalty. Less crude, more—" He paused, eyes finding Briar again. "Permanent."
The threat hung in the air. Eliam's smile never wavered, but Briar felt his control fracture slightly through their connection.
"Different methods for different courts," he said mildly. "Though I've heard your methods sometimes result in losses."
