"What is it?" he asked, low enough that only she could hear.
"I don't know. The warmth—it's pulling toward you but also away from something. Something ahead." She looked toward the castle's main entrance. "Something in there."
"Perhaps we should—" Karse started, but stopped when they heard it.
Laughter from the great hall. Casual conversation. The clink of glasses. The sounds of court as if nothing had happened, as if their lord hadn't been gone for days rescuing a human from the Mountain Court, as if everything was perfectly, horrifyingly normal.
Eliam's expression had gone completely still and Briar's heart began to pound. This was a trap. She could feel it closing around them with every step toward those doors.
"Thaine, take Karse and Briar to the—"
"With respect, my lord," Thaine interrupted, "we should stay together."
Eliam looked like he wanted to argue, but another burst of laughter from the hall made his decision for him. Briar felt his hand curl around hers.
"Stay close to me," he said. "All of you."
They approached the great hall as a group, footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The warmth in Briar's chest twisted painfully, and she had to force herself to keep walking toward whatever was making it recoil so violently.
The doors stood open, spilling golden light and the sounds of revelry into the hallway.
The hall fell silent the moment they entered. Not suddenly—more like a wave, conversation dying as heads turned one by one to look at them. Dozens of fae lords and ladies, all watching with expressions of polite interest rather than surprise.
As if they'd been expected and this whole thing had been arranged.
There, sitting on the Forest Throne with the casual ease of someone who belonged there, was Malus.
Chapter fourteen
Malus didn't rise, he didn't need to.
"Brother." Malus barely looked up, his tone casual and disinterested. "And what a menagerie you've brought me."
"Though I suppose I should thank you," Malus continued, his gaze finding Briar with those green eyes that were almost Eliam's but wrong, too bright, too amused by cruelty. "Malachar's halls are miserably cold this time of year. All that ice and grievance. You've saved me from such a tedious journey."
The throne beneath him, ancient wood carved before the forest above existed, dark with age and power, the same throne that had accepted Eliam, that had recognized his claim when he'd taken it, Malus wore it like a second skin, every line of his body relaxed into its embrace as if he'd never left.
Where Eliam had commanded it, Malus simply... inhabited it, with the casual ownership of someone returning to their own bed after a long journey.
“Just what is it you think you’re doing, Malus?” Eliam asked, stepping forward to place himself between Briar and the throne.
"The forest recognizes its first king," Malus replied, addressing the assembled court. "As you all do. Don't you?"
The murmur of agreement was soft but undeniable. More than half. Enough to tip the balance through ancient law.
And then Briar felt it—a shifting at her throat, like something alive reshaping itself. The thorned vines of Eliam's mark began to move, writhing against her skin. The white buds that had bloomed along them withered and fell away like ash, and in their place,new growth emerged. Autumn leaves, copper and gold, unfurling along vines that darkened from green to deep bronze. The thorns remained but changed. They grew longer, crueler, turned outward as if to catch rather than protect.
"No." Eliam's voice was barely controlled fury.
"Oh yes," Malus said, watching the transformation with satisfaction. "The bargain recognizes the rightful Forest King. Look how much prettier it is now. Autumn suits her better than your eternal shadow, don't you think?"
The warmth in Briar's chest contracted violently, recoiling from the change, pulling toward Eliam with such desperate force she gasped from it.
"Come here."
Two words. Soft. Casual.
“Eliam,” she gasped as her legs carried her forward without permission. She tried to stop, to dig her heels in, but the compulsion forced her closer. Each step was a war inside her body, the warmth raging against the draw, pulling back toward Eliam while her muscles obeyed their new master.
