"Now, now," Malus chided, and his free hand came up to rest against Briar's throat, his thumb finding her pulse point. A single claw extended, just breaking the skin. A drop of blood welled and ran down her neck.
The scent hit the air, and Malus inhaled deeply, a soft sound of pleasure escaping him.
"Mm, I'd almost forgotten how exquisite you smell when you bleed," he murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate register. "Like copper and fear and that sweet humanity that makes you so... delectable." His thumb traced through the blood, spreading it. "I'm looking forward to tasting it again and discoveringeveryflavor you have to offer."
The promise in his words made her stomach turn. She could see Eliam's entire body had gone rigid, his hands clenched so tight the thorns were drawing his own blood.
"Weapons down," Malus said pleasantly. "All of them. Now."
One by one, they complied. Karse's flames guttered out. Arion's light dimmed to nothing. Even Veroc and his surviving warriors lowered their blades.
"Excellent." Malus's hold on her throat loosened just enough to let her breathe properly. "Now we can all proceed to the seal like civilized beings. Or at least pretend to be."
Chapter thirty-five
The forced march through the corrupted forest felt like walking through a nightmare that wouldn't end. Malus kept his arm around Briar's waist, half-supporting, half-dragging her over the uneven ground. His touch was casual, proprietary, fingers occasionally adjusting their grip in ways that made her skin crawl. Behind them, the corrupted guards herded the others like cattle, their synchronized movements eerily precise as they maintained formation.
"You know," Malus said, tone casual, as if they were taking a pleasant stroll through the rose garden, "I really should thank you.” Briar didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop Malus from continuing anyway. “For taking care of Ferria."
Briar stiffened in his hold. Behind them, she heard Halian's sharp intake of breath.
"What?" The word tore from Halian's throat.
"Oh yes," Malus continued, easily navigating the uneven terrain and lifting Briar with disturbing ease when she stumbled. "She'd become quite the nuisance. All that desperate pining, those constant demands." He laughed softly. "The poor thing thought she'd finally have her precious Forest King, properly broken and collared for her pleasure."
"You promised her—" Arion's voice was tight with barely controlled anger.
"I promised her many things." Malus's tone held genuine amusement. "She wanted Eliam so badly she'd have done anything. Betrayed anyone. And she did, quite effectively."
Halian made a sound of pure rage behind them.
"But toward the end?" Malus sighed theatrically. "So tedious. Always whining about when she'd get her prize, demanding reassurances that I'd keep my word. I was trying to decide how to best remove her—" He squeezed Briar's waist in mock affection. "—but this clever little thing solved my problem for me."
"Misplaced as it was, she loved him," Halian spat, his voice breaking. "She spent centuries loving him, and you used that against her."
"Love." Malus tested the word like foreign wine. "Such a dramatic term for what was essentially obsession. She didn't love Eliam—she loved the idea of possessing him. Rather like a child coveting another's toy." His voice hardened slightly. "At least she died believing she'd won something. You're still breathing and already know you've lost everything."
That did it. Halian lunged forward with a wordless cry of rage, his hands reaching for Malus's throat. For a moment, just a moment, it seemed like his desperate fury might carry him through.
Malus didn't even slow his stride. His free hand made a negligent gesture, and autumn wind full of decay swept toward Halian, hitting him like a physical blow before he could close the distance. Where it touched, his skin grayed and cracked like old leather.
Halian screamed, dropping to his knees in the rotted undergrowth.
"Halian!" Sian tried to run forward, but the corrupted guards blocked her path, moving in that eerie synchronization.
"Now, now," Malus said mildly, the decay wind dissipating. "That was remarkably stupid, even for someone grieving."
Halian remained on his knees, the touched skin on his face and arms looking aged by decades. Not fatal, but painful—Briar could see it in the way tears streamed from his eyes. Sian managed to reach him, helping him struggle back to his feet.
"The fascinating thing about decay," Malus continued, returning to his conversational tone as they kept walking, "is that it can be controlled so precisely. A little ages the skin. A bit more withers muscle. Too much and things start to crumble entirely." He glanced back at Halian. "Would you like me to demonstrate further, or have we learned our lesson about unprovoked attacks?"
Halian said nothing, his head hanging forward, defeated.
"I thought so." Malus's attention returned to the path ahead. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, gratitude. You see, dear one," he said to Briar, "you've been remarkably helpful."His fingers traced along her ribs, making her shudder. "Now you're going to help me understand exactly what my brother hid inside you."
"I won't help you with anything," Briar said through gritted teeth.
"Won't you?" His breath was warm against her ear. "We'll see. People are remarkably cooperative when properly motivated. And I have so many ways to motivate you."
